Thank You Sparky Flames!

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The crowd stopped roaring, all silent and still
Our season has ended, I thought it’s not real
Hard to believe, sad but true
All of these moments I’m presenting to you.
With sweaty t-shirts and achy bones
We marched forward to take our thrones
We fought hard and fast we skated
Last game on our hands, score overrated
Carving the ice with every foot race
Not giving up, keeping up with the pace
In the last moments, eyes on the clock
Just 50 seconds to never look back
Alyssa flew past all the enemy lines
Juking and swerving like she do it for #Vines
Beauty was witnessed, a goal was scored
Miracles happen as the crowd roared,
These are the times we can never replace
It’s like winning gold in the Olympic race!
In dog-pile embrace with excitement we fell
The rest of story is yet to tell.
With glossy eyes, the clock ran to a stop
We looked at ourselves, but could not go back
Last game of our lives seemed so crazy as spoken
We laughed at the irony of my stick being broken,
But it was a blessing to play with you ladies
Wise little beauties, fun and such crazies
You guys have taught me so much through these years
Drugs are bad, frozen ice is water, i’m Russia Fierce.
As a senior I would just like to say
Live simply and more words to pass on your way;
I hope you find beauty in all that you do
I hope you see things that are bigger than you
I hope that you travel to many new places
Always looking up and meeting new faces
I hope you remember the moments we shared
The times we were laughing and times we were scared
I hope that you never let fear hold you back
If you know who you are then get on track
Youth is short so make it the best
Because honey, the truth is, these moments don’t last
So I give up my pen, please write your own story
From Russia with love, just Go For Glory!

Feb. 23, 2015
1:21 am

Where Adventure Hides

In the moments of absolute happiness
In the curious smiles of children
In the broken paths of the woods
In the steps of our feet
In the questions to our answers
In the abandoned crevices of old buildingstumblr_mldask92JP1rjv16co1_500
In the rusty cathedral bell towers
In the endless fields of scattered flowers
In the dark corners of our basements
In the print filled pages of our libraries
In the smell of pine needles and cookies during Christmas
In the freedom of music and dance
In the laughter of those who have known pain
In the scent of white birch forests touched by morning dew
In the first twenty seconds of courage
In the forgotten silence of the wind
In the graffiti painted walls by the train stations
In the sounds of flipping pages through the isles of a bookstore
In the multi-cultural inhabitants of the loud cities
In the poverty-stricken cottages of a lonely world
In the eyes of forsaken children without mothers
In the noises of the occupied playgrounds
In the piles of multicolored leaves in October
In behind the fences that we climbed
In the puddles of last evenings rain
In the golden glow of the moons face
In the bitter cold air after a laden snowfall
In the rush of sledding down a huge hill
In the fragrance of fresh watermelon on a summer’s day
In the words and paintings of long dead artists
In the photographs of dusty, old scrapbooks
On the streets where we grew up.

Do you remember…
Do you remember…
That?

February 10, 2013
6:08pm
(unedited draft)

The Author to Her Book

Please whisper,
Whisper in my ear
Because it’s your words
That I long to hear
Please tell me,
Tell me we all have a voice
Because we were lost
But then found by choice
Please take me,
Take me far away from here
Wrap me in your arms
And let me disappear
Please write me,
Write me what was said
So that when memory escapesimagination
You won’t leave my head
Please fill me,
Drive me to be mad
Engulf me in adventures,
And passions that I never had
Please keep me,
Keep me close to you
So when I have no words to say
Remind me that you do
Please be there,
When I am old and gray
To speak about the story
I never had a chance to say.

November 21, 2013
4 pm

Childhood Forest

ImageWe walked in the wild
Galoshes on our feet
More than one child
Marching by the beat
Smiling faces
Wondering eyes
Galloping from places
Caught up in surprise
A trip and fall
A snake or two
A distant call
Like in a zoo
A howl, a hiss
Is not absurd
The arrow missed
Pull out the sword
A drink, a splash
A sting, a bite
No need for cash
Can fly a kite
A jump, a shout
It’s all it is
Imagination played out
In the wilderness.

May 3, 2012
12:24am

In Words

When the world turns oh, so bitter
And tears start pouring down like rain
I hope to find i’m not a quitter
By the words that will remain.

Hundreds of years, a thousand faces push

Stories of passion, dreams, and time
From all around in different places
Beauty reveled in every line.

Alive he wrote the books we save
Now to the memories we’re bound
How still he lies within his grave
Speaking words without a single sound.

Yet, life he loved at its best
And closed the darkest door
Forgiving days of old past
Into the words of poetry he’d pour.

Love was a topic much admired
He brought a piece of it to earth
The only wish he had desired
Fragmented by the sin at birth.

I whisper words with admiration
In the filled pages of his book
Such pure and honest  inspiration
Gives my life a brand new look.

July 24, 2011
11:55pm
(Inspired by poet Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin)

 

 


Walking with a Dead Poet

If I had another momentpot
Just to bring you back to me
Then the story may be finished
Out of this world we could flee.

Run our feet beside the sunset
Lie beneath the bright blue sky
Hand in hand we’ll be together
Hand in hand we’ll say goodbye.

In the night we’ll reach for stars
Sit for hours by the ocean
Moonlight will guide the way back home
Forget about the worlds commotion.

Speak of poetry we will
Create dreams of oceans deep
Your timid love, so true and real
With open hearts we then shall sleep.

Slowly we’ll drown within our passion
Never will I leave the arms of your embrace,
And when I gaze into the mirror
I wish to see beside me, your charming, perfect face.

July 26, 2011
2:41pm

Месяц

Речка золотая
к месяцу плывет,
Теплыми ручьями
месяц обоймет.
Глянет вниз наш месяц
теплым, теплым станет,
свет его лучистый
до земли достанет.

2002 (Russia)
(original version)
~Алёна Комарова

Stream gold
to the moon floats,
Warm streams
month horror shall cover.
Would look down our monthly
heat, heat will,
light of his radiant
to the ground reach.

(English translation)