John gave me a strawberry
and told me to lift it up
high and think it
a star.
Look at its points—
its spots—and watch
it glow bright
red. It will fall
anytime soon.
Musicophilia

Picture taken from the wall of The Mind Museum at BGC. The blog name "Poetophilia" was inspired by Oliver Sacks' book Musicophilia.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Friday, December 28, 2012
Only Too Soon (Free Verse)
at
12/28/2012 07:20:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
I.
I
always loved the sound of the opening door…
Because
when I would hear it opening before,
I
used to see you come in, and you came with everything.
Now
you are only but a memory—a memory that the sound brings.
The
door opens with a screech that reminds me of you—
You
were the one who always brightened up the blue;
You
filled the corner that was devoid of life.
II.
You
said that men are torn from civil strife,
But
now I am torn apart to endure every listless night!
I
sleep in this closed space with no one in sight.
The
door opens. The door closes. The night is as empty as ever,
But night would always be night, even if man should live forever.
As
I stand by the door each afternoon,
I shall
remember the day you left only too soon.
A Remake of "Untitled 1"/Comatose
at
12/28/2012 07:19:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
I
think of how you lay still on your bed
With
only fragment pictures in your head.
No
thoughts were expressed, and no word was said.
Long
silence endured as the skin was fed.
I
saw the needle and wire at your side.
I
saw that sickness was one you cannot hide.
As
soft as a feather, you lay unmoved.
How
were you that night and what had improved?
By
myself I could only hope and pray
And
wish that you’d wake up again someday,
But
your stillness fills my heart with much pain.
How
is it that my heart can still regain?
Will
it be enough to ask and not see?
Or
will this be the way things always will be?
Because I Have You
at
12/28/2012 06:01:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
You have someone who loves you—
me. I'm passionate about you
and jealous, too,
because you have me,
a person who wants
you
desperately.
So why can't I be you
and be longed for
by someone
who loves you
like me?
That's because I have you,
and to love you is to be with you
in my dreams.
I need not to be jealous of you just
because you have me
because I have you—you
to love in secret, you
to be with in my dreams, and you
to dream of in my sleep.
I have you to hold
in my heart. I do not need
to be you because I'm in love
with you. Because I'm in love
with you, we are
never apart.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Said the Moon to the Sun (Part 1)
at
12/27/2012 07:37:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
You said unto me that I
am the moon to your night sky.
But what is the moon but a disc of white,
a single rock in space, a satellite whose light
does on the sun's light depend?
If you should say, "Shine, moon,
and go without the sun,"
I would say it cannot be,
for the moon shines from the sun,
and from the sun its life and beauty.
Lest the sun would gravely cease to be,
the moon would lose its face,
its light...
its entirety.
And I am your lifeless,
faceless moon,
thrust into space,
magnified by the light that comes from you, my sun.
So shine, my sun,
and fill this moon with the light that comes from you
that it may forevermore shine through
in the nighttime where darkness is due.
am the moon to your night sky.
But what is the moon but a disc of white,
a single rock in space, a satellite whose light
does on the sun's light depend?
If you should say, "Shine, moon,
and go without the sun,"
I would say it cannot be,
for the moon shines from the sun,
and from the sun its life and beauty.
Lest the sun would gravely cease to be,
the moon would lose its face,
its light...
its entirety.
And I am your lifeless,
faceless moon,
thrust into space,
magnified by the light that comes from you, my sun.
So shine, my sun,
and fill this moon with the light that comes from you
that it may forevermore shine through
in the nighttime where darkness is due.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Remind Me Again...
at
12/18/2012 06:02:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
Remind me again
of how we used to sing together
Show me the picture
of the time we held each other
Tell me the story
of when we first met
Bring back the time
you said, "I won't forget."
Do you remember
what you whispered in my ear?
Did you see that
my happiness came with every tear?
Will you tell me again
how much you need me and love me?
Should I listen to you,
or should I set my heart free?
of how we used to sing together
Show me the picture
of the time we held each other
Tell me the story
of when we first met
Bring back the time
you said, "I won't forget."
Do you remember
what you whispered in my ear?
Did you see that
my happiness came with every tear?
Will you tell me again
how much you need me and love me?
Should I listen to you,
or should I set my heart free?
Monday, December 17, 2012
I Think About Tonight...
at
12/17/2012 05:58:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
I think about tonight and wonder why
I had ever been in love with a man
Of his type--responsible, mature, smart,
Versatile, and a good leader...who drinks
A lot and cusses a lot, and I guess
Tonight had just made me lose all my mind
And respect for him and regret having
Given it to him. He was wild last night.
I regret having done the things I did
Just so he'd say, "Hey, she's quite apt for the
Job!" And I regret feeling the way I
used to feel, which made my feelings go 'round.
I just don't like the way he is. He's of
A strange culture I cannot adapt to.
I had ever been in love with a man
Of his type--responsible, mature, smart,
Versatile, and a good leader...who drinks
A lot and cusses a lot, and I guess
Tonight had just made me lose all my mind
And respect for him and regret having
Given it to him. He was wild last night.
I regret having done the things I did
Just so he'd say, "Hey, she's quite apt for the
Job!" And I regret feeling the way I
used to feel, which made my feelings go 'round.
I just don't like the way he is. He's of
A strange culture I cannot adapt to.
When With Him
at
12/17/2012 05:52:00 PM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
To be in love
and to be loved back
are certainly two very
different things.
I'm wide awake remembering
the last most visible memory
I had been in love
with a man who cared
no more than I did,
and it was when stealing glances always
seemed the hardest thing to do,
and avoiding each other's eye
was as painful as painful could get.
I know he couldn't love me.
He's got scars. I've got mine too,
But feeling the painful is like nothing
when with him, and doing the hard
makes life easy when with him.
When with him I am entertained
Though he utters not a sound.
I feel light though silence
is his tone and key. When with him,
I don't even think of myself because when with him,
I feel that he is myself and myself he.
Yet to be in love and not loved back
is beyond painful and beyond hard.
It leaves scars that hurt very much.
I know he couldn't love me.
We've both got scars, and it's painful,
Unbearable, and especially not as pleasurable
as when with him.
and to be loved back
are certainly two very
different things.
I'm wide awake remembering
the last most visible memory
I had been in love
with a man who cared
no more than I did,
and it was when stealing glances always
seemed the hardest thing to do,
and avoiding each other's eye
was as painful as painful could get.
I know he couldn't love me.
He's got scars. I've got mine too,
But feeling the painful is like nothing
when with him, and doing the hard
makes life easy when with him.
When with him I am entertained
Though he utters not a sound.
I feel light though silence
is his tone and key. When with him,
I don't even think of myself because when with him,
I feel that he is myself and myself he.
Yet to be in love and not loved back
is beyond painful and beyond hard.
It leaves scars that hurt very much.
I know he couldn't love me.
We've both got scars, and it's painful,
Unbearable, and especially not as pleasurable
as when with him.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Because of Some False Tale...Because of Some Wretched Story...
at
12/16/2012 02:22:00 AM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
I am troubled
by the things
that dance inside my head,
with the words that tell me
"you're not good enough"
"you're not going to be okay"
I am deeply bothered
by the sound of the thunder
that rolls inside my heart...
Will it yell at me louder?
Will there be no stop?
I hear every distant cry
from a hazy world deep down inside.
I look around me and see nothing but dancing lights
and skies of orange and pale purple
calling me
to look up
and gaze
and cry
(Oh,
'tis a sad world...
and a lonely place...)
I think of you and of how happy
seeing you happy made me,
and just so you know,
things are quite different now.
I hope you hear the thunder inside
because it pains me to think that we can no longer speak
the way we used to
because of some false tale
because of some wretched story
Can't you see, I'm not happy inside
I'm not happy because it's reality I see
I see you thinking the wrong way about me
I see you not the way you're supposed to see me
and it worries me more
why?
because we can no longer be the "good friends" we once were
because of someone's false tale
because of someone's wretched story
by the things
that dance inside my head,
with the words that tell me
"you're not good enough"
"you're not going to be okay"
I am deeply bothered
by the sound of the thunder
that rolls inside my heart...
Will it yell at me louder?
Will there be no stop?
I hear every distant cry
from a hazy world deep down inside.
I look around me and see nothing but dancing lights
and skies of orange and pale purple
calling me
to look up
and gaze
and cry
(Oh,
'tis a sad world...
and a lonely place...)
I think of you and of how happy
seeing you happy made me,
and just so you know,
things are quite different now.
I hope you hear the thunder inside
because it pains me to think that we can no longer speak
the way we used to
because of some false tale
because of some wretched story
Can't you see, I'm not happy inside
I'm not happy because it's reality I see
I see you thinking the wrong way about me
I see you not the way you're supposed to see me
and it worries me more
why?
because we can no longer be the "good friends" we once were
because of someone's false tale
because of someone's wretched story
Monday, December 10, 2012
Life is an Angry Maze
at
12/10/2012 01:14:00 AM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
I
used to like to trust man.
I
used to, before,
and
I did, once more.
I
thought that men would keep
when
you say keep and not give away
what
are yours
because
it’s mean
and
it ruins relationships,
breaks
things apart, and kills things that
cannot be brought back to life again.
cannot be brought back to life again.
Worst
of all, people believe too much.
“Don’t
ask; just believe.”
Anyone
could tell that this
has
been going on for years.
People
believe
without
asking
and
sometimes without verifying if what they’ve heard
was
the truth.
And
then they sound off mindlessly,
aimlessly,
looking toward
nothing
so that nothing would
look
back toward them,
and
life after all is a crazy chase
after
something too far to reach,
something
too fast to capture,
and
something too impossible to find.
It
is a crazy search, too,
for
something longed for
for
so long…
so
long that you can no longer recall how long
and
you would eventually forget you had wanted it because it’s
just
not always there to see.
Life
is an angry maze where you
are
in the maze and you
are
the maze itself. It is a crazy
“looking-for-something”
kind of game, and
you
are in a maze that’s also within
yourself.
You know what you want,
and
you know where to find it.
You
just have to get there
and
figure out how you’re going to get there.
Sunday, December 09, 2012
Light from the Cold
at
12/09/2012 07:33:00 AM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
From a balcony where strong winds did blow,
I gazed at
the dark orange sky so bold,
Looking
down at the big wide world below,
One
evening, I stood alone in the cold.
When I
thought that stardust had no more hope,
And that
the world only brightened at day,
When
certain mishaps never changed lone scope,
I stood
shivering to hear what he’d say.
One sudden
ring had tuned my heart to sing,
Having ten
minutes to end in a swish.
Cold,
unusual, strong—and what did it bring?
A surprise
for me and a granted wish.
It was a
glorious night indeed, and I,
Returning
to the room, gave a deep sigh.
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
Seeking You
at
12/05/2012 03:14:00 AM
Written by
Pytha Platota Pripravovat
This poem was turned into a song
and was entitled "Non Chiederti Perche." :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOw8AURFCe4
I need you
because I'm lost
and I'm never sure
what wrong I'd do or
what mistake more
when you
don't come
here
now
and help me out tonight.
il cuore mio vuole soltanto te
ma poi non so parlare
non chiederti perche
I miss you;
I'm all
alone
and I seek the voice
that once carried me
in my sadness.
You are
my dream;
you
wake
me up when I'm asleep.
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