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Andrej Barovic May 2020
Oh, dear Luna!
In thy light through the night
I follow ‘til come the morrow
When embarked through the dark
Thou reside by my side
So bright! Thy holy lume
So sacred! Thy godly rule
For no God hath before
Brought light to cursed night
And upon its undead shore
Spawned life from Heaven’s halls
O star of eternity
O queen of divinity
May the mortal man ne’er know
How among immortals
Thy crown glows!
The night sky's brightest "star". A beauty of the dark, a goddess of the light.
Andrej Barovic Apr 2020
I had a dream
One ever so daunted
By your presence haunted
There a child unborn
Ne’er to see no dawn or morn’
It is not before it was
A child, our love
Its grace ne’er to be felt
Its gaze ne’er to be seen
Its death an omen
Of what could've been
Semi-adaptation of a dream I had.
Andrej Barovic Mar 2020
On this bitter morn’
At the passing of the night
Inclined I am by the crack of dawn
On white paper rhymes to write.
These days spent in solemn peace
Had emptied my mind of thought
I could not see just how it is
‘Till this poem to me was brought
Once again rustled was my soul
Stood still did my heart
Blood in my veins icy cold
In this peculiar month of March
What hath been forsaken
Presumably by my mind
From ignorance was awoken
To haunt these very lines
To haunt or to bless
Whichever it may be
I call upon forgetfulness
For only she can save me
I never should have met you
Not here, not now
Yet the Lord had a different view
High above this petty ground
Though to Him, I pray
Every night, and every day
Keep her eyes bright
And send me on my way
Allow me to forsake
These memories of her
Allow for her just the same
May our souls no longer hurt
Call upon the weavers of fate
So our destinies may realign
And each other we could find
In a better place
At a different time.
Don't you ever just wish you could forget someone entirely, only to meet them once again and feel that sensation you once did, or so you thought.
Andrej Barovic Feb 2020
what is the boiling point
of the human soul?
  Feb 2020 Andrej Barovic
Bella-Lee
And if you look,
Hard enough.
Poets never get famous,
Unless they die...
Or,
Commit suicide.
Andrej Barovic Feb 2020
a kiss
so small yet
so painful
on lips of mine
naught but ash
on my mind
the lips of hers
of lipstick red
with cherry taint.
Andrej Barovic Feb 2020
Oh, if only you knew
What I saw in your eyes
If only I could tell you
And touch your very soul
Perhaps the skies would clear
Perhaps the Angels would not weep.
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