Category: Writing

Let Not the Words of my Silence

Valery Chichkin - At the end of the day

Let not the words of my silence
engulf you with thoughts
that I am gone—

I am here

Despite the absence
of the warmth of my palms
upon your face

I am here—

Though my song is only
palpable in the coolness
of the summer breeze,
caught in the scent
of flowering meadows

I am here

Through the stealthy moments
while the verdant
leaves turn
from emerald to garnet,
topaz to platinum,
silver to earthen dust—

I am here,
I am always here.

by D. G. Vachal © 2014

Photography by Valery Chichkin – “At the End of the Day”

“Love Letter”

by D.G. Vachal

At the end of winter daylight
when lemon passion glows
with the ardor of periwinkle,
at unexpected moments
I remember

a melody long forgotten,
jubilant as a nightingale’s song,
that led my fledgling
heart to soar
towards the blazing stars
once upon the sands of time —

Now, when it matters no more,
I recall the scribbled ink upon the paper,
a voice that called my name,
at twilight’s edge
when my heart beholds the colors,
the warm farewell
of the setting sun.

D. G. Vachal © 2014

Archipelago

Archipelago

Between now and oblivion
lies an archipelago
infinitesimal
as a grain of sand,
expansive as the universe
of my remembrances:
where lost loves wander
stranded,
entangled,
enslaved.

The islands are mine:
the ylang-ylang,
jasmine and hibiscus —
let the florid scents haunt
my shipwrecked loves
as taunting ghosts warble
melodies of our laughter —
let parrots recite my poetry
from parchments drenched
in perfumed
tears.

O Archipelago!
for the leaving
I cannot leave,
for the weeping
I cannot weep —

tidal waves do not
wear you down,
nor the anger
of volcanoes —

you are always there
between now and oblivion.

by D. G. Vachal © 2012

* photograph: Archipel Sulu, Phillipinen by Volker

… an edited version of the original poem written in 2012

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“Of Bread and Hunger”

by D. G. Vachal 2
The days ride the chariot of the whirlwind:
tomorrow’s sun is yet to be appointed —
you hold this moment’s gold, this second’s gem.

Today is bread that feeds your hunger,
strength for constricted hands
that throb to open to those in need,
(always, there are those in need)
bestow kindness even to those unkind.

Give, give of this bread,
this bread of today,
each broken crumb of every fleeting second,
scatter with abandon to reach
the hungry mouths,
even the birds of the air,
the beasts of the field —

As you give of your daily bread,
verily you will be fed.

D. G. Vachal © 2014