Best Sarajevo Poems
Sarajevo - UNDER A LINDEN TREE
The morning lights and to another day
a pirate's chest you've found but will not stay
for longer than the blinking of your eye
from troubled sleep to wake wherein you die
through every ticking second where you are
as dense and far away as any star
you sit and let your life and time run out
and have become what others talk about
You search to find where you can sit again,
under a Linden Tree, like it was when
the need for firewood made it days gone by
but still you want to hear how love can't die.
from time to time you'll always hear a clue
between each word that's meant for only you
coincidental to what you have seen
you take it in as how each word must mean
and this will guide you through the whole day long
as certain as the hearing of "Our Song..."
just at the proper timing of your need
and then your thought will soar, it has been freed
you cling to it and make it what must be
the fabric of your life and prophesy
and it will carry you from here to there
into another day that goes no where.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
We spoke in images
Our hands our mouth pieces
Oiled by plum brandy
And the certainty
That what I said
You understood,
Or wanted to
Which is all that you have to do
To make an outsider feel welcome.
SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet1
BRIDGES OF SARAJEVO
So stirs the heart of man, the great delight,
to raise a banner high, the march of fate;
to lead the way, where only dark of night,
might find a way to quench the thirst for hate;
and lessor men will follow any call,
of self appointed leaders of the day,
the good, the bad, the dead, but butchers all,
some crowned in light, the others in decay!
To follow is the way, if wrong or right,
determined by the ones who stand at last,
we hold this judgement as if heaven might
just comprehend the end that binds us fast.
Our bridges to be crossed, are Hate and Death
Protected by our foul and Balkan breath.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
SARAJEVO-1995 Another Cease Fire
As old as death and cold as nevermore
all set to stone, by those who've died before;
the acts of love, though viewed a falacy
reveal the truth of what has come to be
and given to what friendship has in store.
This city with its palaces should die
though all the world would come to wonder why,
for better off the world would come to be
than letting blood to flow so fast and free
in gutterways, where life lives on its' lie.
There'll never be agreement, in our day
for east is east, and west, the other way,
and taste for blood is strong and long and deep,
from promises that time will never keep,
and all the world has nothing more to say.
Who'll end the peace so fast we'll never know
enough to place the blame where it should go?
There's always time to bury those who've died
but not enough for helping those who've cried,
and peace is what the reapers never sow.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Sarajevo - Death Comes
For Sarajevo, death is never known,
to bring an end, to what the body feels,
in love or hate, together, or alone,
death has no mercy for one's last appeals.
Death never fails to bring the solitude
those living on in pain, would surely bless,
though we don't always want it to intrude,
death comes no matter what our happiness!
Death's kiss is not a thing to worry of,
it all belongs to you! No other's claim
can steal away your very greatest love,
and not one love in life is near the same!
Death comes from out of hate and Balkan clay
to those who've never found another way.
© ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet
SARAJEVO the peacekeepers
Tomorrow there won't come a morning bright
filled with a hope that peace has come at last
and smiling girls can't dance out of a night
that's been too dark and too long in the past;
from out of troubled dreams, peacekeepers dare
to bring an end to hates' eternity
not knowing it is roots that brought it there
they stumble in the cold and misery,
they'd surely dance with all the girls they find
except their worlds are separated by
the ways that time's erased from their own mind
and so they scratch their heads, and wonder why;
an understanding never comes around
and so they leave it all the way it's found.
© Ron Arbuthnot
SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
SARAJEVO the safe zone
The missiles come down from surrounding green
hills made for home, but now are turned into
the hiding place for death that's always been
a part of life as life they always knew,
and when the sound of it comes to the mind
all Sarajevo hears the boom it makes
and wonders if there's any way to find
some hope, a bit of peace, as morning breaks;
the children close their eyes and make the run
not caring where their feet are running to
as shots ring out--some fired in just for fun
not caring what a little fun can do.
And all the world it watches in surprise
if any falls, or any stops and cries.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
VRBANJA - BRIDGE OF DEATH - SARAJEVO 1995
You steal the light when there is none to see
when there is nothing left, you take it all,
For Sarajevo. just the shell of we
stands mesmerized; and backed against the wall.
Our Balken moon's behind some branches bare
We watch it move so slow and lovingly
until it leaves the trees behind, and there,
is just the shadow of its smile to see.
No one may loose the power of ones dreams
to bathe in sunlight of a brighter day,
we stay to die where love's not what it seems,
you speak to us in words you never say.
Our sniper waits, across the Bridge of Death
in air so cold, we only see his breath.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa
BIRDS OF SARAJEVO
It seems the birds of Sarajevo
are gone--where did they go?
Some only say they've flown away
or scratch their heads, and just cant say.
It seems the songs of Sarajevo
are stilled--where did they go?
Some only sigh, while others cry
that all the songs were just a lie.
It seems the youth of Sarajevo
has died--where did it go?
Some only say it's hides away
from all the pain of yesterday.
SARAJEVO - THE ANXIETY
A wave that grows from deep inside of me
to bring me down I feel it start to grow;
its' only name--is called--anxiety,
where it comes from no one could ever know.
As tiny needles prick my skin, I feel
sensation of a drifting tenderness
that goes from here to there, and so un-real.
It leads my mind to only second guess
at what's invading to the soul I own
fortelling what has been and what must be
from Sarajevo where my life has grown
into the death I recognize as me.
I'm but a vagrant never meant to know
too soon forgotten like a Balkan snow.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
SARAJEVO - Trolls
In time we know what life is coming to,
and what is real is what we never see;
without a trace, it stops all we can do
to bring about those things we thought could be!
And in it all, there never comes around
a single thing to ever have and hold;
as gentle as the love we never found,
nor harsh as feeling we are growing old!
The bitter fruit of disappearing youth,
have played the joke upon our vagrant souls,
and all to soon, it comes around as truth,
all bridges out, are occupied by trolls,
whose sight is but a bullet's deadly aim
and Sniper Alley has become their game.
E Ron Arbuthnot aka ron wilson
SARAJEVO - CITY OF PALACES
Each hall in every palace is a death
that's been for cen'tries; never ask it why;
it leads the hearts of men, in ev'ry breath
to join the call to arms, and go to die.
and what has led them on is what's been willed
to handed down, and what's been going on;
the shackles then are forged, the cup is filled
to overflowing with each troubled dawn.
Why else but Sarajevo is the cause?
Division of a way of life they live,
if you should ask them why, they say it was,
and so it is; it's all that life can give.
The beauty that was Sarajevo's charm
will come and go with every call to arm.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
Sarajevo - DEATH OF A BELIEVER
In Sarajevo, death, down through the years
is fog of mind not meant to ever be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all too few can ever see.
It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.
Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.
Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
and no one cares for all your sweat and tears,
your rest is not until it's done in death,
but keep the faith in what you've done for years.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet