WIPE OUT THE CITY STREETS
POETRY
By Larisa Leonidovna Drozdova, Athens
When I was 9, my world smelled good. It was clean. No smoke. No tired faces. When I: ME: LARISA LEONIDOVNA DROZDOVA was nine ... I am older and write poems to go back to then.
There was a book, I had it for ages. It was a way to wipe out the city streets. In the book we are in the mountains.
DO YOU HEAR THE MOUNTAINS OR THE CITY STREET ?
Larisa ? . .. YES: My tree some say it was born before time was counted. My tree - yes LARISA LEONIDOVNA DROZDOVA has a tree.
DO YOU HEAR THE MOUNTAINS OR THE CITY STREET ?
Larisa ? . .. YES: My tree some say it was born before time was counted. My tree - yes LARISA LEONIDOVNA DROZDOVA has a tree.
Play play o-play. Music. Play. Please. Pay no head to the wind or the sea. Play without greed. It were a sweet and gallant pain
To be a sea apart; in the distance Dorothy Parker. Who is this person you ask. Who indeed ? But another poet.
I hear the music.
To be a sea apart; in the distance Dorothy Parker. Who is this person you ask. Who indeed ? But another poet.
I hear the music.
Rise rain the trees. Rain I hear on the news bad words about you. Floods are not your fault. It is the ground. Rain my love.
I read. I do not write. So silent I when Love was by
He yawned, and turned away; oh .... His presence in the woodland,
How little has he left to learn
Of self-defense! My good land!
He yawned, and turned away; oh .... His presence in the woodland,
How little has he left to learn
Of self-defense! My good land!
So simple .... Whatever our faults, we can always engage someone to write a good review.
Soon spring with COLOR will arrive !
Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say—
You spoke from that flower on the window sill and the hills became green. It was too lonely for her there,
And too wild so I closed the window. Strange now it is all grey.
Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say—
You spoke from that flower on the window sill and the hills became green. It was too lonely for her there,
And too wild so I closed the window. Strange now it is all grey.
You can move onwards. I can ... let us go. Thundering the train moves and we can hear out own windy voice. All we can do is raise our hands and move them in signs.
Big field: it was my garden. OH my garden.Murmuring something quiet in her breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye; my garden in view !
One bird begins to close a faded eye; my garden in view !
DO NOT
wait the unfailing gray.
