Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

A red cardinal got trapped In a green arboretum Among the lacy fern And blush cacti flowers It flew in a desperation Unique to all animals Who can sense death Then the red cardinal spied A man-made creek With fattened koi A precarious bridge And a cheap Grecian statue So it drank and made  Its prison into a home It learned it can live Off of tiny tangerines Produced in the Asian pavilion And ripened crab apples From North America Soon the cardinal forgot That there was a world it once knew One with sunlight  Dewy earth worms Domestic cats on the prowl The dome glass walls Became its home Is there even a life worth living Outside of them?

The tinsel on the tree Chocolate in the bowl Santa on the mantle Streets engulfed in snow This Christmas is a special One; I look back on a year Filled with bliss and chaos And pockets of despair I wrap my woe in tinsel Eat candy to sweeten My heart; look at the Snow out the window To drown in bitter cold I always thought I was Made of ice, and that Doom was at my door For who could love a frigid woman, who could Melt a polar soul? This Christmas is a special One; this Christmas I'm not cold This year I'm fuelled by Sparks flaming in my Chest; I'm heated by My will to move on To embrace the year ahead

In the end, it's all the same Every French kiss in the rain Every hand you'll ever hold Even when your heart is cold Every inch of skin you've felt Every sweet cologne you've smelt Every look's that made you melt Is made on a conveyor belt It's part of the same sorrow plan It's how God has punished man To make love like ecstasy To make you dismiss reality And to fall into a helpless trance Of laughter, chocolate, and romance You play with fire and you dance You know the odds, but take a chance In the end, it's all the same All the bliss and all the pain All the kisses taste so sweet We search until we feel complete Image source: https://falacarte.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/kiss-under-spring-rain.jpg

I Snowflakes Falling on tongue Like they did when I threw Snowballs at boys during recess Freedom II Her smile When I come home How was your day today? Kitchen smells like butternut soup Safety III Prancing In the backyard Catching red butterflies Then watching them flutter away Gently IV Fire Camp songs and s'mores Ashy smell on sweater Crickets chirp and coyotes howl In awe V Berry Patches outstretched Sun on back as I bend Strawberries staining my soft hands Yummy VI Kisses Smooth as chocolate The glee of being loved As we waltz by the candlelight Relax VII Bubbles In the warm tub The smell of apricots Sticking close to my heated skin Cleansing VIII River Rushing quickly Through the winding forest How safe it is to be on shore Watching IX Night time No mascara Just me and my inner Thoughts, memories, wisdom, and soul True self X Beauty All the senses Tingle when I breathe in Earth is in equilibrium Perfect

"Most of us, even if only for two minutes in our lives, have experienced at some time or another an inexplicable and random sense of bliss, unrelated to anything that was happening in the outside world..." (Elizabeth Gilbert) That moment of bliss happens from time to time It happened to me today when I was walking through the forest Fully feeling everything with my five senses Feeling the gravel and crunch of dead brown leaves beneath my boots Hearing the creaky moans of the old trees in the wind Seeing hues of fire, gold, and bronze Smelling the morbidly sweet smell of decay Tasting the moist air on this October day If October were a person, she would be beautiful But not beautiful in the mortal, conventional sense She would have chestnut brown hair, ragged Tangled with twigs and birch bark Her face would be hollow, delicate, like petals in the fall Her dress would be tattered, drooping at her shoulder Moths, caterpillars, and spiders caught in the fibers o...

I am so tired of seeing the same person in the mirror every day Roof over my head? Check. Water and food? Check. Family? Check. Healthy? Check. Stable boyfriend? Check. Check. Check. Check. Why does it not seem like enough... It is because I am an angsty twenty-something See, we were raised during an interesting time when flip phones were a luxury in the eighth grade And MSN Messenger was the way to communicate Now, do people even communicate? There was a time when jobs were a tad easier to find Now we sit in a lukewarm pool of our depression and sulk over the youth unemployment rate We believe in nothing, no god to save us, no future for the earth's creatures and plants We just wait for the sun to devour our planet and for the oceans to flood all the major cities like it does in the movies, a modern day tale of Noah We are pessimists, us twenty-somethings What do we believe in? We don't believe in love Love is oppression! Love does not comply with our overly...

There is something special about coffee shops. The ambience. The grainy smell. The chatter of young lovers and old friends in the background. The stability of it all. The simplicity. Most breakups take place at coffee shops (true fact). The sun blaring down, scalding coffee at my lips, trying to gulp it down to get the conversation over with quickly. Secrets murmured. Coffee cup left half empty (or half full, if you will). Reunions occur at coffee shops. Gift exchanges. Christmas time. New seasonal special: white candy cane mocha with gingerbread biscotti. The smell of creme brulee wafting through the air. Cheap tinsel on the walls. Hungover morning after New Year's Eve: a stop by the coffee shop, a large cup of roasted heaven. Injected like a drug, warming every vein in the body. Then there are days spent alone at the coffee shop. Bent over a stack of textbooks. Fifth coffee of the night, and not the last. First dates at the coffee shop. A mixed sense of hope, and despair in the p...