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Best Croat Poems

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Burning of a Croat Village by Bdosa, Vee

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Details \| Croat Poem \| THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL Giant ferry berthed in Mersey River : Tugs take the strain with a shiver, Ropes creak and we cast off - She timorously inches away from the wharf. Bow comes round and leaves the dyke: Lit buildings spin carousel-like - Strong currents have us in tow. Black vortices with bubbles below, Inkiness of river water stark: Hear it more than see it in the dark. Big crewman in black woolly hat Yelling to another in Serbo-Croat: Looks like mayhem but they know How to swing her into the river, so That ropes, men, machines, move in sync Floating her out on the ink. Liverpool fades in red glow; Stars emerge from hiding low. On the frowning wave We are alone in the dark, save Our own lights cast ghostly Into nothingness mostly. Go inside and shut out the night. In the morning Dublin in sight. Copyright © Sidney Beck \| Year Posted 2011
Details \| Croat Poem \| EMPTY APARTMENT EMPTY APARTMENT Paid the realtor’s fee Collected key and learned how to jiggle it - Some lock problem - corrosion in salt air. In the silence of my own thought Previous life in these rooms speaks of Views of the clouds and sea. Nothing much else to see, just think about Their own childhood memories. Drawers with screws nails and nylon line - That’s out - my own junk in. Shelves with a few books “Cooking Fish with an Electric Wok” and “Teach Yourself Serbo-Croat”, and one ice-skate. That lot goes in a bag for the junk store. Make room for my own geology maps and Collected Thomas Hardy novels. Cigarette ash, empty chip bag, crumpled chocolate wrapper. These people must have had serious teeth and lung problems. Kitchen cupboards with packets of soup and instant coffee - And yet they used a wok ?! ( Like Jeckyl and Hyde. ) Chuck out their rusty can-opener Put in my own rusty can-opener. Table will be better under the window. That round rug they could never decide where to put - I’ll put it in the back cupboard - hideous colour. Curtains have to go too - wouldn’t be seen Dead with curtains like that. Some people have the weirdest taste. Copyright © Sidney Beck \| Year Posted 2010
Details \| Croat Poem \| Burning of a Croat Village BURNING OF A CROAT VILLAGE Do you see the town that burns a flame always it burns, always the same, and has down through it's history it's burning will forever be. Can you hear the children playing here? they play with death, they play with fear, forever is their only game where life it burns a constant flame. Do you see the smoke that blinds the eye of all the world, as chances die? Always to burn, always the same always to be engulfed in flame. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet Copyright © Vee Bdosa \| Year Posted 2017

Details | Croat Poem |

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL

THE   LEAVING   OF   LIVERPOOL


Giant  ferry berthed in  Mersey River :
Tugs  take the strain with a shiver, 
Ropes creak and we cast off  -
She timorously inches away from the wharf.  
Bow comes round and leaves the dyke:
Lit buildings spin carousel-like  -
Strong currents have  us in tow. 
Black  vortices with bubbles below,
Inkiness of river water stark:
Hear it more than see it in the dark.
Big crewman in black woolly hat
Yelling to another in  Serbo-Croat:
Looks like mayhem  but they know
How to swing her into the river, so
That ropes, men, machines, move in sync
Floating her out on the ink.
Liverpool fades in red glow;
Stars emerge from hiding low.
On the frowning wave
We are alone in the dark, save
Our own lights cast ghostly 
Into   nothingness   mostly.
Go inside and shut out the night. 
In the morning Dublin in sight.

Details | Croat Poem |

EMPTY APARTMENT

EMPTY  APARTMENT   

Paid  the  realtor’s fee
Collected key and learned how to jiggle it - 
Some lock problem - corrosion in  salt air.
In the silence of my own thought
Previous life in these rooms speaks of 
Views of the  clouds and sea.
Nothing much else to see, just think about 
Their own childhood memories.

Drawers  with  screws  nails  and nylon  line -
That’s out -  my own junk in. 
Shelves with a few  books  
“Cooking  Fish with an Electric Wok”   
and  “Teach Yourself  Serbo-Croat”,
and one ice-skate.
That lot goes in a bag for the junk store.
Make room for  my own geology maps and 
Collected   Thomas  Hardy   novels.

Cigarette  ash,  empty chip bag,  crumpled chocolate  wrapper.
These people must have had  serious  teeth and lung problems.
Kitchen cupboards with packets of soup and instant coffee -
And yet  they used a wok ?! ( Like  Jeckyl and Hyde. )
Chuck out their rusty can-opener
Put in my own rusty can-opener.

Table will be better under the window.
That round rug they could never decide where to put  - 
I’ll  put it in the back cupboard  -  hideous colour.
Curtains have to go too  - wouldn’t  be seen 
Dead with curtains like that.
Some people have the weirdest  taste.

Details | Croat Poem |

Burning of a Croat Village

       BURNING OF A CROAT VILLAGE
Do you see the town that burns a flame
always it burns, always the same,
and has down through it's history
it's burning will forever be.

Can you hear the children playing here?
they play with death, they play with fear,
forever is their only game
where life it burns a constant flame.

Do you see the smoke that blinds the eye
of all the world, as chances die?
Always to burn, always the same
always to be engulfed in flame.

© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL

EMPTY APARTMENT

Burning of a Croat Village