Emptiness in the crib, bedroom door – ajar.
The bedding is warm, her scent retaining.
On the couch, forlorn, is a lone guitar,
Books - on the floor, and outside – it’s raining.
Emptiness in the house, body frame shakes.
Silence reigns sovereign. The faucet, dripping,
With the regular calm of a metronome, breaks
Time into segments that are quietly slipping
Through my fingers. Hollowness - in my chest.
Gone is the bell, though the echoes follow
In my temples, resounding with distress.
In my throat - your absence is hard to swallow.
Your hands are steady…
Your hands are steady, it’s the bridge that’s shaking.
A step to hypothermia, two to incoming traffic.
It’s already late and the landscape’s breath-taking -
Monochrome, through the lens of your photographic
Memory. Deconstructing pain to its pixel details -
A grain of salt that stretches and clings to your chin…
The incoming headlights blind you, and then unveil
A little more of the scar, a little less of the skin -
A fine balance. You could have been on a tight-rope,
A speck between towers, with the sky to traverse.
An impossible act, if not for the slight hope
That, in the desperate moment, luck was still yours
For the taking. For some, there’s solace in rain,
As it drowns the murmuring, splintering heart,
But you’re taking it in, for if it wasn’t for pain,
What would bring tears, where would love start?
Much too much has been said…
Much too much has been said, it’s a sorrowful story,
And a joyful ending is too much to feign,
I wanted no more than for you to restore me,
Paint over my pain
When the morning light comes it’s too pale to heal me,
And grief’s slender fingers pick the guitar,
I wanted no more than for you to conceal me
Like a scarf on a scar
Learn from toddlers…
Learn from toddlers - chew - for flavor -
Books - for comfort. When your gums
Open, splitting, try to savor
Sentences like final crumbs
When you're starving. When you're craving
All the safety of the crib,
And your stomach walls are caving
In and up against your ribs,
When your tears well up and swelling
Eyelids - saturated - burst,
When your pain is too compelling,
Sink your teeth deep into verse.
When you're lonely, when your lover
Fails to satisfy your need,
Don't go searching for another, -
Learn from toddlers how to read.
Emptied sky
Emptied sky -
Your eyes of blue -
Milked it dry,
Soaking through.
Opalescent
Colors blaze
Omnipresent
Is their gaze!
All devouring -
Wring them out! -
Overpowering
Is their knout!
It's genetic -
How they flare! -
So poetic
Is their stare!
Oh, be merciful, -
Heavy freight! -
Irreversible
Is their fate!
Life’s a game…
Life’s a game and she leaves it to chance,
Floats along, dressed in black in July,
Sees the world through her camera lens,
And she watches it quickly pass by.
She was pushed into math, into science,
By her parents, by money, by class,
Till she learned to abhor all compliance,
And refused to succumb to the mass.
Now, she crops all her photographs short
So the focus falls right on the frame,
In this way, she partitions the world
Into cages where time can be tamed.
She takes stills of wind-ruffled birches,
Blinks in sync along with the shutter,
She makes prints in which order emerges
From her personal life, full of clutter.
Just a click, it’s so instant and painless,
And she’s gone without leaving a trace,
Blending into the pixels of grayness,
Like her subjects, who’ve fallen from grace.
About the Author
Andrey Kneller was born and grew up in Moscow, Russia. In 1993, when he was ten, his family immigrated to United States. He started writing and translating poetry from Russian into English soon after. His work has appeared in a number of literary magazines and journals, including National Forum, Gentle Reader, Unlikely Stories, and the Hypertexts. He has also published several books of poetry translations, including the works of Vladimir Mayakovsky, Boris Pasternak, Anna Akhmatova, Marina Tsvetaeva, and Alexander Pushkin. Andrey currently lives with his wife in Ashland, MA and teaches high school mathematics.
Thank you for taking the time to read my work.
My hope is that this book will lead you to explore my other books of Russian poetry translations. For a full-list of my books, see the following page.
If you enjoyed my work and have a moment to spare, I would really appreciate a short review. Your help in spreading the word is gratefully received.
Also, I would like to invite you to visit my new website dedicated to Russian poetry translations: Discernible Sound. As always don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions and/or comments.
Sincerely,
Andrey Kneller
Also by Andrey Kneller:
Wondrous Moment: Selected Poetry of Alexander Pushkin
Evening: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
Rosary: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
White Flock: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
Final Meeting: Selected Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
My Poems: Selected Poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva
Backbone Flute: Selected Poetry of Vladimir Mayakovsky
February: Selected Poetry of Boris Pasternak
Unfinished Flight: Selected Poetry of Vladimir Vysotsky
O, Time…: Selected Poetry of Victoria Roshe
Discernible Sound: Selected Poetry
The Stranger: Selected Poetry of Alexander Blok
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends