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Tadej Blazic Poem
For lost I am in my dreams of terror
- ring the bells of ghastly churches made
of iron! And flee the nightly tremor
from memories of children at play.
These sweep the mind in most pleasing ways,
like specks of tulips on gentle winds borne,
Futility, my dear, hides the Sun’s rays
and closes the door to memories adored
and I weep in my dreams for happiness no more.
Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014
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Tadej Blazic Poem
Here we are, amidst
the roaring chaos,
Amidst the turmoil
of a sanguine sea
Where lightning
strikes furiously
across
Encumbering clouds
of serenity.
The wind has torn
your bones to white
splinters
And left your hearts
to the mercy of
Death,
And as the last
surviving light
withers,
We shall persevere
with each failing
breath.
Behold! The Ocean's
Womb is wide open!
The Terror of the
Depths beckons
tonight!
Your wives shall
smile for your
courage is proven.
Let us strike the
waves with ardour
and might!
Only a tombstone
over the cliff
perched
For Man had defiled
what was already
cursed.
Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014
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Tadej Blazic Poem
Bring me dawn, soft
like the first
breath of Spring.
Bring me dusk, brisk
like the Morning’s
fresh cry,
like the Ocean’s
spray caressing my
skin.
Bring me voice,
shaped into a
lullaby,
dampened with cars
and carts from Old
Shanghai.
Bring me time, so we
can be older,
right here, right
now, watching the
seconds fly.
Bring me love, when
my heart grows
colder.
And she wept oh so
gently upon my
shoulder.
Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014
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Tadej Blazic Poem
Ah, let come this stiffling breeze now to ye all!
Such sweet sap envelops my every pore,
Shall I await for the ever fresh rainfall?
For I fear the amber of daylight no more.
Dormant they recline on fields of white cotton,
while Hermes pulls his cart from the House of York,
and though worries of the day are forgotten,
they tackle me with ever increasing torque.
Dear Lord! The sun, as the Gods, knows no mercy,
it strikes common men on green parks all the same,
the same as the priests from Westminster Abbey,
wildly wields and waves it's scorching blade of Flames.
Ah, let come a fresh breeze to the grass of Hyde,
and may it blow through the city, far and wide.
Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014
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Tadej Blazic Poem
A soldier lain in pools of blood,
A soldier of no name,
A dying soul face down in mud,
His mercy is to blame.
Now booming blows are deep below
The Emerald River
In visceral form and bellows
Travelling in shivers
Across the vibrating granite.
Your heart will stop, dear friend,
And you shall see no holy light,
Just darkness with no end.
Now sleep, poor soldier, sleep softly again,
For I shall weep for you and the sins of Man.
Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014
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