Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

My mom used to say: that ’s the way the world works, hun You can’t make friends with everyone Some will love you, some will pretend Others will be with you right ‘til the end That’s the way it all works, dear Friends close, and enemies near But even when everyone around you will say That you won’t make it, that you haven’t the brain Even when one hundred people will boo you away You’ve got to believe in yourself, that’s the only way The self-preservation, the fight in you, you see You can’t let them tell you that you’re not free You’re an artist, a scholar, you’re special to me You are incredible, but not everyone will agree Though it’s not fair, that’s the way it all works Some slave away and then the others get perks You don’t get to choose where you come from, you know But you can decide where it is that you want to go You are a sunflower, you just need to find the right rays That will set your true glory ablaze You are a bluebird, but you’re ...

Watching the VHS of my parent's wedding day for the fifth time brings a smile to my face, but a pang of unsease to my stomach. My mother has told me the story a million times: about how she met my dad in school through mutual friends, about their early dates at the movies, their inevitable falling in love with each other. The grainy image from the '90s video tape shows my mom, in her long-sleeved, lacy white wedding gown, a giant smile plastered on her face, and dad, who to me looks the same as now, but with fewer grey hairs. The event takes place in a beautiful cathedral in my hometown in Poland, my mom and dad surrounded by family and friends. A happy occassion. A momentous occassion. So why do I feel uneasy? Well, it might have to do with the fact that my parents have been divorced for the past 15 years. You can't blame me for having a pessimistic view on marriage. Did you know that Canada has one of the highest divorce rates in the world? Yet, I tried to suppress these ...

I'll never forget the warmth of my grandma's old gas stove In the cramped two-bedroom apartment that always smelled like smoke My grandpa would sit in his room with a cigarette in his left hand Stroking his coarse grey beard while solving a crossword puzzle My grandma would be shuffling around in her kapcie , house slippers Baking and cooking and frying and banging pots and pans Boiling strawberry jam with fresh fruits picked from her dzialka , yard And pickling cucumbers and cabbage and mushrooms in glass jars I'll never forget the sweet smell of nalesniki wafting from the kitchen In my paternal grandfather's loft, up on the fifth floor Cottage cheese crepes fried in oil, dipped in jam It was my favourite breakfast as a kid My grandpa's dog, Grot, would wag his tail and beg for crumbs Then we'd go for walks to the old town  Strolling along the cobblestoned streets of Olsztyn, my hometown The sun warming me up on a bright summer day I'll never forget my gre...

Looking out the window, I see peoples' lives In tiny lit boxes, apartments in the sky Everyone surrounded by four white walls Walls which have no emotions at all Walls which have kept us so disconnected Not a single soul has not been affected By the loneliness, the frustration The tech divide of our generation I see people on the platform, eyes on their phone Crushing candies, texting their partners back home What if we stopped and decided to be here? To be present and sober, mind in the clear? To be rid of the walls and free of the screens To remember what true happiness means The people living in apartments in the sky That is all of us, that's you and I What's the meaning of it all? Are we alone? We won't find the answers to that on our phone Google can't tell you if you've found the one You can't game away your anxiety none You can't binge watch your emotions away Sooner or later, you'll have to pay To leave the walls, to take a risk To see all th...

When life gives you lemons, make a lemon tart Put your soul into it and devise a new art Always thought I was brave, I was smart Now it feels like I'm back to the start Now the anxiety, it comes in big waves The pity, the anger, the blame that I crave To my heart and emotions, I am but a slave Tail 'tween my legs when I misbehave Whose love it is that I seek? When I'm senseless, drooling and weak Last night I was there, on the peak Now I'm a nobody, a freak, a geek A sad ol' person who can barely speak A mouse that spits a barely audible squeak I squeeze sour lemons into my eyes To eradicate all the parts of me I despise The squabbles, the indecency, the lies My heart rate soaring up to the skies Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone But what if I am the fool, alone? The thoughts in my head, a dull drone Talking to myself on the phone Life gave me lemons and I ate them whole Now I'm paying the price with my soul An anxious wreck, shipwreck, on the tide ...

Remember when life was a dream Sweet as cookies and cream Sticky summer days lasted forever I remember your hand in mine A puppy love so divine We could travel wherever Remember video games on the couch Adults telling us not to slouch Each day happier than the last Listening to our iPods We would live forever like gods We didn't feel as each year passed Now every day is the same Be it sunshine or rain Eyes aching from the screen Oh to go back to those days When nights were a haze And we all ate cookies and cream

Idle hands are the devil's workshop Or so I've been told My idle hands have been baking, Writing, reading, typing, clicking, Cooking, cleaning, washing Themselves into a slow oblivion The hands on the clock stand still Yet my hands and mind cannot Idle hours are precious when scarce But a curse when in abundance