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Vera Dike Poem
To see a beauty and misery
of the World
The conflict, the fall
and rising of a Man.
To Feel the urge
set Yourself on the fire
and put the whole struggle
into rhymes.
The joy of life
and sometimes senseless effort
when - the more You try
the less You can gain
the tenderness of love
the biterness of hate
the cry of tormented soul
and its pain.
To be wide awake
while You keep the power
and the fragile beauty
of your dreams.
When
To dream means
staying alive.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
In my soul I belong somewhere...
I don't know where I belong to.
Maybe somewhere to the distand land
where cacofony of voices
sounds at market place.
Where air is full of scent of thyme,
sandalwood and yasmine.
where the Moonlight
shimmers on the sand
when warm blood of setting sun
soaks into the night.
and Wood is cracking in campfire
while the flames dance
with sworm of sparks
where A storyteller
spells the otherworlds
accompaniend with the voice of the drum
The Sea sounds with eternal song
Under the starlight
the desert rose grows.
There I belong .
But now am homesick, yet at home
dinning with family, yet alone.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
I hate You and I love You
with the same power
Yes,You- my dear
my joy, my happines, my strengh
my grief, my weakest point, my doom
My point of no return
You, The source of my peace
as well as my rage
my safety, my pervert beauty
of a Golden Cage.
Because I am shaking
like river reed in the vain
yet, here is certain sweetnes
in Your chain
I wear armor
anytime you lit
your overwhelming passion
and - as black velvet
Your eyes are soft and dark
and because
I am afraid of the darkness
and scared of the light.
This is why I hate myself
when I love You
and hate You
when You love me
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
Behind the barbed wire
Behind the barbed wire a cherry tree blooms:
bustling petals in the land of death.
Behind the barbed wire a gradient runs
between the scent of flowers
and the omnipresent stench
of burning flesh
wafting from the crematory furnaces.
And I wonder:
if there are pillars of clouds by day
and pillars of fire by night
and loud cries
and pleading prayers,
then where is God ?
Where, behind the barbed wire?
Does he know about žthe walls of Treblinka
and Osvetim?
Does he know that Arbeit macht frei?
Does he know about the Final Solution and
forced labou
and the horror of the Holocaust Trains?
Is he, too, in the gas chambers
gasping for breath?
Is he, too, starving to death,
wishing nothing more
than something to eat?
Is he, too, behind the barbed wire ?
And I wonder:
despite the machinery of brutal killing
in staccatto of bullets,
could they not kill humanity
to the mass graves
could they not bury hope
Because cherry trees bloom
even behind a barbed wire.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
ate summer - gipsy violinist
In the immense mass of a green leaves
flashed the red and yellow ones
The promise of a change
messengers of the Fall
In the air floated certain undertones
of a melancholy and decay
The melody, as a raging river
owerfloaded from a trembling strings
The Violin sobbed with a plainitive note
its voice, penetrating
as an eye of a Sphinx
sent the shiver down my spin
and left the rest of me afloat.
The gipsy man drove his bow
as if it was a Devils tool
an arrow shot from the Hell
The moves stabbed to the heart
and pierced humans soul
and he kept playing
for few coins and understanding smile.
The whole day resonated with the joy
of a meadow if is filled
with the music of birds
and humming bees.
and with griefs
of dusty roads and endless journeys
With a passions
of the night under twinkling stars
with the beauty of a nomad life
with the secret of a fortune teller
with an eternal damnation.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
The Dreamocracy
Spread the message
far and wide
Spread the message
in the carpet bombing.
Now comes freedom.
Surrender and forget about pride
Messengers of liberty
are thrombbing
and hurtling head - long to the ground.
You can enter your dreams
and You don't need visas
You are free to spell
Your home, Your family, or ice cream
or soft breeze.
While You were passing
through the hell.
You can dream
that your and wife
ans kids
are still alive
they are on a way to the school
or they are playing around
laughing.
You are not a fool
when You strive
for the vengeance.
You too, You are human being.
You can dream
that there is not poverty
and You drink pure water
not the mud from the hole
while Lady Liberty
( the wicked whore)
and so - called democracy
( the bastard she bore)
are falling from the heaven
and landing in the spray of the blood.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
I sat alone in a crowded coupe
lonely among others beings
Behind the window snow fell
Which alegory..
snow flakes and people,
they are all same
yet they are different,
beautiful and ugly
their own way.
Somewhere there,
behind another window
which always shines
in the darness of the night
like a lighthouse
Lighthouse of my life.
The same snowflakes dreft
twinklin' images.
The light is waiting.
The light is always patient.
I will be there and wondering
how beautiful is
the dance of cold gems
under street lights
and at the moment the silence will fall
and covering the whole world
with solitude.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
The heart of a poet
is winged crystal bridge
marked by stomping boots.
The world in rush
Bloodthirsty army of conquest
never has enough.
Ordinarines is the Colosseum.
With a naked soul
You stood barefoot in the sand.
You fight, You write
with pounding heart
and trimbling hand.
The word is Your shield
The Ideal is Your sword
You are all alone
against the whole world.
The Emperor in laurel crown
His thumb up or his thumb down?
You are waiting
Devoted to Your muse
thrown to the lions
released to the crowd.
by Vera Dike
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
Under The Black Feathers
'Why
here will be feelings
around me
anytime I set my eyes
on You.'
You said
and You covered us
with a black feathers
With no fear
you walked through
my darkness
and fought my demons
with the light
instead of a steel
aware that
we both have wounds
to heal
yet we both wear
our scars with a pride.
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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Vera Dike Poem
The Reverenge Of A Poet
There is not harm in his lines
but no one can say he's harmless.
He stabs You in the heart
He gives You wings to fly
.. and You are lost
Your soul pierced with his word
You are lost
in his Labyrint of multiple senses,
hidden menings, comparisons,
aphorisms, archaisms
and the metaphors.
Thou shalt seek.. and ask
Thou shalt never know..
God cursed him
and this is his reverenge
to the World.
by Vera Dike
Copyright © Vera Dike | Year Posted 2017
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