Await
This white snow everywhere
and the solitude of everything
in this world of one color.
There are no birds in the sky,
no wind.
The naked plum tree, sad,
remembers how was with
the longing.
Time’s still slipping away
like a serpent…
And we sit together,
just like Li Po said,
the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
Above the Night
Darkness,
air filled with black atoms
like emeralds, moving,
spiraling around the great
center.
Everything else sleeps
in silence, quieter even than
a breathing snake, than
a heart that no longer beats.
No more harsh wind
to stir the leaves,
only the moon up there,
watching, listening,
with her halo of bright
dreams.
Oh…but listen!
Someone is talking.
So slow, so quiet.
And the silence of everything
turns into speech.
The Roses
Red roses
drinking the wine of the soil
under the yellow sun
roses
turning into blood
heavy honey for the bees
screaming open wounds
eating the wind
in small gulps
the only thing they fear
is the scissors of our
love
About the author:
Peycho Kanev is the author of 4 poetry collections and two chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hiram Poetry Review, Hawaii Review, Barrow Street, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, Sierra Nevada Review, The Cleveland Review and many others. He has three nominations for the Pushcart Prize.
