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Best Poems Written by Meadow Kurova

Below are the all-time best Meadow Kurova poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

Eggshells

From a mouthful of this morning’s eggs,
I pull bits of char from yesterday’s breakfast.
‘I had no chance to scrub the pan’, I plea with myself-
But I still smash it over my skull
like a cartoon.

Every morning I wake up 
feeling last night’s feelings,
thinking last night’s thoughts,
about what’s happening 10 years ago, 
and what happened tomorrow.

If you add up every 
simultaneous
suffocating
moment 
I fight through- 
just to say:

‘i love you’

It would stretch for longer than I’ve known you,
which is longer than I’ve been alive.

There was no ‘today’ in my broken egg. 
No difference between coming or going,
to an automaton in purgatory 
who saw life through the pinhole eyes 
of a cardboard mask won at a birthday party 
I never asked for.
The sky looked like the ceiling of a small, dark closet.
and flowers looked like plastic bargain bin decor 
coated in lead paint, the kind left on roadside graves.
I used to count those as a child,
on the way to destinations 
I still dread my arrival to.

If I were brave enough to show you my awe and my terror
of loving the one who revealed 
the world as something real, all this time-

I would sink face down in dirty bathwater 
choking on wet, laughing sobs
until my fingerprints wrinkled away
and tear at my clammy skin 
until my soft nails bent backward
and paint red bruises all over my trembling body
that would spell out a primitive language 
neither of us had the chance to learn. 

This is my best guess:

‘i am just a bad thing that happened
a book of false memories and blind feelings. 
You are a very fast reader,
You’ll soon reach the end of me.’

I remember drawing a map in crayon 
of every ditch I saw myself lying in
strange, unnatural positions.
Like I'd been struck by a car,
and someone shoved my body away
so I wouldn’t mess up the next one.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

You First

The Unknown never 
introduced itself to me.
It whispered-  'you first.'

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Kept By the Promise

Coffin lungs unhinge a chest open bare, 
fragile skin ripping thin as bat membrane-
flutter in waves of vapor, from the heart that beats itself,
                        exhuming an illusive space...
                                       defined by all that never was. 

      The only promise left unbroken,
             held against all petty wills,
      is the nothingness that eclipses the tangible- 
      contoured by chaos, it stands tall and futile,
            leaving no shade for the shelter of lost dreams.

And so let the old void fill the new,
      where Only Hope's clumsy shadow filters in,
      and Fear blows every breath of whim,
                   Asphyxiating in this open cage,
                   for too long I chose to stay and wait
                   for empty promises to take,
                                                    and take,
                                                           and take.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

Unicorn Dream

Life’s been weighing on my soul,
and happiness feels intangible.
Alone, curled up in bed I weep
until my tears put me to sleep.

And in my dreams, I see him there,
with lion’s tail and gold-white hair.
Unicorn, will you set me free?
I have no reason left to be.

He stops and gives a dreamy stare,
I wonder what he knows or cares?
His deep blue ocean eyes aglow,
pierce the gloom of my shadow. 

I turn away, he wanders near,
till his warmth melts my icy fear.
His healing horn restores my light,
and tells me I will be all right.

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Acceptance

When, at last, you're loved
Mirrors tell the truth, and you
Remember yourself.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

The Ballad of the Blossoming Bull

foggy spirits unfurl from his flared nasal crypts,
with each snort and snarl and curl of his lips,
the bull stands before me, unshakably strong-
he knows who I am, and I must prove him wrong.

i’ve beaten and shoved him, though I trip as I try, 
but no matter my method the beast never dies,
he’s bitten me, trampled me, bruised me and gored
and for each scar inflicted, I’ve evened the score.

I kicked at his hooves and I’ve slashed him with knives,
we’ve bitterly tousled for most of our lives-
he bellows his bluff, stares me down with daggers,
but I’ve grown unmoved by the force of his swagger.

for the ways that he’s hurt me are nothing compared,
to the time that I’ve wasted feeling rageful, and scared.
it could go on forever, or end the next moment-
in this sick stalemate, will we live to have known it?

at the brink of my gumption, I’ve no choice but to try-
picking sweet smelling flowers as small as his eyes,
a concilate crown, wide enough for his horns,
he eyes me uncertain, yet bows to be adorned.

tho we won’t be fooled into thinking he’s tamed,
for now a respite has been put to our game-
i’m no longer his hostage, his master, his whore-
while the flowers are nourished by his violent allure.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

How To End What Never Began

My eyes can see,
but not understand.
This is my last effort.
I must swallow myself,
and feel forever, for now.
A person can only feel so far
until reality becomes impossible,
and I may never be a person again.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

The Stranger

the dogs pace in their cages
and bark a frantic warning
at any approaching footstep 
or knock at the door.

but if they freeze to attention
as if afraid to be detected,
then I heed their judgment-
the stranger is near.

the streetlights in my eyes
flicker off where he passes. 
and the rivers in my veins
hush their babbling.

my lungs fill like balloons,
for the air forgets to move.
and the rain in my head
turns to silent, dry ashes. 

if I've ever met the stranger,
I can't recall his visits.
only how the world returns
the moment he departs.

the dogs shirk their duty,
and shrink into the corner
of my ribcage, exposing
a new impression where he tread.

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Sacrificial Bond

the bubbling bleat of a slit throat goat
its waning heartbeat drips and drones
with the heated thrum of jugular hum
soul distorted, unborn, aborted.

lungs expand and collapse in unison 
the pan and cage adjourn their union
yet an orgy of the senses progresses
orchestral symphony within symmetry.

a mistaken mosaic of wounded shapes
connected by drooling ichor, grey bile,
belly heaving with ungodly burden
darkens with seeping rot, film of filth,

hanging tongue too stiff to catch the drip
that falls from the mirror below this gift,
still anoints its brother’s broken bones
in perfect ruin, the sacrificial bond.

Details | Meadow Kurova Poem

Sky

When I look at the world upside-down,
it feels like it could go on forever.
But when I see it the way it's
"supposed to be seen"
I am reminded of the word 'never'.