Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Start of an urban drama


Start of an urban drama


Lover, he which it is not, or hardly so, boundlessly loyal, to her, which required numerous lovers, to, at least for a moment, escaped from her unhappy marriage. All miserable. He, and her husband, as also she. But she does not have the courage to cut off this agony, that now live, and which they will in the years to come simply call their previous life, and of which to their children will not tell anything, leaving them confused, to thinking about why their parents are so long wait to start a normal life together.

And maybe it is just that - the thought, what keeps her lover so humble and submissive to her beauty. But that we will not find out, because narrator, for the reader unknown reasons, right here, will stop the story which just started.

... with the promise that tale will once to continue ...

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Redhead



Redhead


Roses is difficult to be unnoticed - not among the flowers, nor among humans. Even when they are far away from those who yearn for them, even among the other flowers, their intoxicating scents attract variety of bees. Among the people the picture is the same... just less bees drink nectar... Behold, I know a rose that stands away from those who yearn for it - separated from the crowd, but not lonely, attracting to herself views and sighs various.
Invisibly she could not be - red as blood, red as passion, red as yet not extinguished weevil - trace of the fire that still smoldering...
She does not need rose petals scattered on the grass - mistaken they who rose petals spilling where she go - red rose standing on her head - views of men and sighs lures.
Far away, from somewhere... from various places... sometimes I sigh at the thought of a red rose, and then I look toward a mountain, on which again rises the most beautiful of all red roses...
I looking for her for a view, and she only occasionally, answers...
Standing away from those who yearning for her, and I belong to that group... I am not an angry and do not care... as long, at least sometimes, my view caressing by wind scattered her hair...
My eyes looking for her, and she replied by beauty... and lonely heart filled with joy...