Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a very small privately owned website. Our primary means of support comes from revenue generated by advertising.
We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep PoetrySoup free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker for PoetrySoup only, while keeping your ad blocker active. How to do it. Thank you!

Best Famous Sasha Skenderija Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sasha Skenderija poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sasha Skenderija poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sasha Skenderija poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Sasha Skenderija poems.

Search for the best famous Sasha Skenderija poems, articles about Sasha Skenderija poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Sasha Skenderija poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...


Written by Sasha Skenderija | Create an image from this poem

Weirdos

Deep and unreachable in their darknesses, 
capriciously childish and tender
when we write to each other,
while we talk about one of us
who is not around.
I grew up with some of them, others, who I met as grown-up people, I could unerringly pick out in their photo albums on group pictures of their school classes.
They've always been like that.
They remember every detail I've ever told them about myself, and even some I left untold.
There's always one of them around to remind me of important things about myself when I sink or soar too high in my petty existential delirium.
Some of them had nearly given up on themselves and on me: they fell in and grew together with their own lunacies pulling me and lifting me up as a magnet picks up iron filings, or a comb torn bits of paper.
People that I love, scattered along the meridians and along their abysses: among monsters of normalcy.