(CYCLE : STIGMA OF OUR SOULS )
You’re young miss, riding trough forest
On horseback, far away to school
You have a revolwer in your pocket
At an unexpected attacker to schoot
You are cute blond hair, blue eyes
In boy’s outfit you are dressed
Your horse quick,well-groomed, gray
You come back to manor every day
And then, my young miss, a war
Suddenly takes from you it all
Parents, horses, youth, manor
You are left alone in cruel world
Your fortidude, beauty and grace
Give you husbands and many kids
I’m delighted once to see you in cafe
So elegant,in wide-brimed hat
With your two daughter cokiet eat
Girls have long blond braids
Years later when in hospital,my lady
Someone leave a newborn baby
You raise this girl and adopt
She call you no grandma but mom
*****
You’re too a lady cute, great
Always effective, warm-hearted
You support every around, help
As child you saw in war poverty, death
When your kids already are grown up
You give them a good start in life
Your husband cheating you, sad tell me
You go to church to pray for him
And when suddenly he dies
A large stone you order to find
To cut in half, to write : you and me
And you help others still long time
*****
You are too a lady cute, great
Must live with cripled stepfather
You’re dilligent university student
You love secretly a certain lecturer
You distribute anti-goverments leaflets
Are in demonstrations, in hunger strikes
Dancing, reading, photography you like
So delicate, beatiful, green-eyed…
In misterious circumstances you die
*****
I’m sleeping this night in room of great lady
She lived here in youth,great lady of poetry
In the large window her curtains hang still
Upon a timeshe sewed it, white with frills
Her white, iron bed, art noveau, sisterly
The poet was driven outhence by war
Here her cups in deteriorating house
Large, neglected garden in outside
In old trees sleeps her childish voise
( November 27, 2024 )
