Do It
make your confession alone
before yourself
'in front of a mirror
you man weak
with the will, and the act,
do it
make your confession alone
before yourself
without the priest
put the candle
and beside mirror
even rather small
clean your conscience
more lightly
for you will be
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Direction Beach
I am walking along a street, on soft asphalt, and
I am sticking heels into the zebra.
of the marquise on the other side firmly heated up.
the crescent shaped bun stuffed with the chocolate
is swimming in the shop, from the warmth,
one moment, and I will wet my legs at the edge,
and then, I will catch myself crests of wave
swimming of up on down, and I will feel blissful chill.
now, one bend and...welcomes me auriferous familiar
sand.your glasses, are covering with half a face.
but I can see the smile, from a distance, it is not...
a duplicate...
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Delay
now, we have the September.
is clear and solar
but he likes the July,
not to say the August.
then everything is so kind,
all warm and cosy.
oh well, a September
it is a September.
doesn't worry about it
isn't taking over.
is taking the other
wall diary out
of the drawer is.
he is hanging up
and he is placing
the appropriate date still
and is raising
oneself spirit.
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Three Angels
on the Christmas tree
three angels are squirming
on the Christmas tree
three angels are dancing.
and long sweets chocolate
with the orange, of average,
size under the Christmas tree
shed the creche and presents.
the grandfather is remembering me
himself, and I have the intact
wafer in the memory.
all moments are flying away,
as butterflies, but privately
the ones which are giving
us joy, on the Christmas tree.
stay three angels are squirming
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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And I Will Wait...
the September sun,
and the September rainy weather.
then again morning fogs,
the nonsensical passage of time.
drooping flowers,
and my longing.
time of the mushroom picking,
trips to forest.
I am leaving sadness,
behind the iron gate.
alone I am going,
on the road of nobody.
and now I can se,
myself in thoughts.
and I know how the life,
costs a lot of money today.
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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An Ending Of The Sad Story
it is such sad history
that even I am noting have
the strength to describe it
our country star, moved to the city
and were missing fresh air,
one meadow, water and fields,
not mentioning forests which
we seated - a long time ago when
not yet was our children
and this way, we were full of hope,
that will grow out of the star, super star
and the village will get well-deserved
bonuses like the most however,
our country star, moved to the city
and we ran short of words in order
to stop her a village, administrator said,
but alone she came back longing
behind the fresh air, one meadow,
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Guess Me
obliquely from under cosmic eyelids
is beating by eyes sneer of pupils
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
is bringing the dislike of rays in the gift
the silver October chilled the night
with autumn breath hardening
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the bare limbs of trees peeping
it is hard to forget these premonitions
what else are living, it ache with memory
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
greedy nature with one's dream
bad charm of the stifling hour
with billowy cloud are heaving our dreams
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the question or you it really is you
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Answer A Question...
the grandfather 'frost' wanted to hug still
who will be of given, and it what, is of giving...
he didn't know that the winter had recognised him,
although he put the cap of the clown on.
it is an exceptional scoundrel, a winter said
till spring. but you, 'don't worry, be happy.. '
he is as the coward which is afraid of his own
shadow.
I will dropp the snowstorm, and what's more,
he will be enough, when it covers, a strong wind up,
he will be escaping there where sun
isn't reaching so quickly - hahaha.
the spring smiled radiantly, talking to the winter:
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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The Last Border
it brimmed over goblet of the bitterness
the worm has turned
and are scatter crumbs of the
life like the poppy of the grain
but I, I am not a Cinderella,
to gather them together I am not able,
I cannot. I, poetry of the life and growth
differently from you I understand.
and don't tell me that I don't feel!
tasting, I am savouring.
and you, you are knowing nothing about it,
because to know nothing you can.
in the glory and glitter, with joy
today you are ploughing your land.
and I, surely I am crazy?
oh no! I other I am collecting crops!
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Close Goodbyes
behind the third ocean it was miraculously
the life alone passed without pushing
making the bed gravel footpaths with white shadow
of box trees in length cut
on their background colour umbrella
it decorated grass green
flirting with blue of water like the painted flower
with bizarre colours gathered
from the rainbow ribbon stuck in my hair
your eyes as ever carefully expected
gathering clouds on my forehead
in order in time to save it what delicate
before the approaching storm
you weren't only able in them to stop lightnings
and me when I came back up to own wings
it was behind the third ocean better
now I am here where your music of words
for me is still heard even though surges
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poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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