Writes before thinks, changes with every new dress, makes loud sounds with her high heels therefore she is - Viktoriya Gaponski
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Hey world,
What more have you got for me?
How many ahas! How many alas
Will I grasp you whole at last?
Must I revolve along with you
Round and round
Revising the past?
Or run against the wheel of wonder
Setting off sparks
Creating a thunder.

Dear world,
Would you be so kind to give me insight
And a beautiful mind of a child
To keep
To enjoy the rain and not join the army of rats who run away
To a hiding place where the flowers don’t bloom
World, I’m asking to please keep me full
With what I am
And rise above grudgy old men
Who too once were ten
And wanted to be astronauts because the earth wasn’t big enough
But now the universe feels claustrophobic
For self proclaimed heroics

Oh world,
You put many wonders, hungry eyes and a big soul in a small girl
Giving her constant lessons to learn
So when they ask who’s responsible for this unsettled thing
I point to you
And mother.
The town where she was born is shredded to last stone
She may have died along with it
If it wasn’t for the storm in her
The house where I grew up is tumbling apart
The art of leaving safety nest is planted in my heart.
World, I ask of you one thing
To keep me on my toes
And stir of those who have you figured out
Because you are a chaos
As soon as one is standing on two feet
You shake the ground.

Falling Off A Horse

Oh, mighty animal that stands on strong and steady feet
No matter how much they feed you
From their bare hands
You won’t allow to scratch the top of your proud nose
Your philosophy is strange to those
Who give to get
Who will climb on your shoulders to pet your head
Throw over you a saddle
On your back to settle.

For every man who tries to take you with a force
Ends up falling off a horse.

Twenty Years From Now

Tell me, will you be where you say you will in twenty years from now because
Your word is concrete
Even if you meet a girl of your dreams but
she flies along with the wind and invites you on a journey
Will you take her hand and follow
Or stand on your ground, marked with CAUTION yellow paint and dance inside instead?

Tell me, am I not enough
To shake the ground beneath you
To take my hand that may not lead to a pit of gold
But with me you won’t be bored
And with me you will never grow old
Am I not enough to hold for one night and to never let go out of your sight?

To The Seagull Who Stole My Fig

When you wave your hands in delirious motions
Be cautious
There’s a seagull behind you, alert
Waiting quietly
Not seen nor heard
With a practiced routine that’s clever and quick
He’ll fly from the back and steal your fig

The Coldest Morning

Almond eyes, one said
Jasmine scent, another whispered
So many things to each
And none able to reach
I’m going too fast
Clasping tight to aeros
Becoming my own hero
Reddest knees ever
And not from pleasing a man
Nor from the coldest morning
But from sunrise reflection at the shore
Sure, I strive for more
Than this sore body can deliver.

But then up the hill I saw a deer
Racing at same speed, in fear
I told him - dear it will be alright
Taking harder way may suck
But look at beauty of this sight
Is that not enough to swallow?
As an energy infusion
Mind nutrition substitution
Run along with me wild soul
Where the finish line is not conclusion
Where there’s neither to or fro.

Ancient Science

Along somewhere you gave up
It’s not the distance, nor the job that mess up relationships
But people do
This is ancient science shit.

And don’t think me selfish, I understand your passions
Think of me naive, for living in your promised mansions
I just wish you weren’t such a coward
And at mere sight of defeat, move silently onward.

You closed the door, but door remains unlocked
For ifs and maybes come a knock
Don’t go on wasting another year or few
A poet never puts a comma where period is due.


Why is our hearing selective?
Why are our hearts destructive?

Why are thoughts impure?
Why is faith the only cure?

Why does our vision do us wrong?
Why do we feel we don’t belong?

Why must our emotions be disciplined
when we are promised the unlimited?

Why is there a set pace for us to follow
when we’re overwhelmed with sorrow?

Why is kindness mistaken for weakness?
Why is shyness mistaken for sweetness?

Why do we compromise to get nothing in return?
Why do we feel that there is nothing left to learn?

Why do sinners bathe in the Greek temples of the immortals when
saints suffer the fiery pits of the infernal 9th circle?

Why are our actions driven by lethal instincts?
Why can sins be repented within certain precincts?

Why are our complaints endless?
Why do we accept being left breathless?

Why do we have these questions?
Why did I head in this direction?
Why is this my perception?

Maybe I’ll leave an impression.
Could be a cry for affection?
Freedom of self expression?
A simple, yet life changing confession?
Don’t mistake this for depression.
Just a morning of decompression.

But why is the question.

- by Lara Atalie Hoff Smith

Spring fling

He’ll come around
when circus comes to town
He’ll come around
when clowns come out
He’ll come around
to have some fun
He’ll come around
but I’ll be gone

My friend

My friend,
She’s not for rent
Nor has a dent
In her soul
She’d rather sleep on the floor
Than in warm arms of a fraud

My friend,
There isn’t cure for the hopeful, the loving, the pure
And I admire her for keeping the smile on
When she’s misread, mistreated, and filed
In the cabinet of desired
But never granted

My friend,
I love her
I’m fond of her
She’s the one in fine crystal slippers
Riding carriage past the midnight
With me by her side
Letting the moon light guide

Lovely nothings

The clouds above us
Scattered cotton balls
Absorbing world’s thoughts, love and fears
And then dissolving, down they pour

While people hide under umbrellas
From their own recycled tears
And stain their skin instead
With lovely nothings from their dears

Photo by me, January 2014