Five Poems
by Tamara Pantović
A SIGN ON THE FOREHEAD
I wear a sign on my forehead,
a wanderer between worlds,
child of dark abysses,
the king and his madwoman,
unfaithful in pain and happiness
persevering in suffering,
minds poisoned by doubt
black books write,
the bird flew away
to the unknown sky of tomorrow,
cloud of happiness hidden in her chest
from a sinister look
not to overshadow her love.
FRAGMENTS OF A DREAM*
In abandoned house, abandoned room
scattered bed without sheets,
overturned chair and chaos,
on the wire, children's underwear has drying,
I don't know where my father is now,
screaming in agony,
destroyed by that thought,
dirty road and an old fence,
in the distance are the green meadows,
black sky as before the storm,
strong winds began to blow,
in the purple twilight of my lucidity,
the wild geese soar in the sky.
I JUST SAY SO AND I THINK*
You do not need a shell of a woman
to bend over their grief,
nor emotional debris from someone else's table
tiny crumbs of someone else's happiness,
nor a new enthusiasm, a glimmer of hope born
which returned the faith that there are both-
- beautiful and ugly,
because everything you could imagine
if you have enough dreams.
This late hours, rain and winter
new morning will give rise
and you will know everything will be the same,
nor inch to move from dream
from reality even harder, densely compacted
long time ago with loneliness poisoned words
they beat, they beat in your pulses,
even stronger if you remain silent,
if you're keeping a secret hugging it jealousy
in big mesh you voluntarily fell, not by your birth
but by your choice, with awareness, clear
and without a fear, and be still, be still there now,
do not move your shadow ,
'cos somebody with only one view could freeze it,
do not move your thought, numb smile
for the happiness that someone will find out.
MODERN NOVEL*
You give me only action and nothing more
just like in a modern novel,
we live in a gallery of characters
that are reduced to a straight line
that gives simple forms,
something cold and monotonous while I look.
And I know that you will never let me
wander through the regions of your soul,
I see that there is no description there,
your expression is without stylistic figures
not even simple extended sentences,
I guess that is why I keep
even those few words of yours,
as the greatest treasures.
That is modern and that is right,
to hide yourself behind the terse sentences
of concrete answers that you have for everything,
because you are so smart and wise
and you handle matter and life well.
And I am having a hard time
getting used to it
I, who scatter feelings like snowflakes
in millions of hints that can associate with love
– a word unknown to you.
And I don't know if it exists in your world,
whether it's what you call habit,
that strange perennial connection of our minutes together,
because "loving" is an outdated category.
And so. I'm standing there in the rain,
with a bunch of old and boring writers under my arm
that I wanted to bring into your world,
I look back and look for the path
I'll take to you and your emptiness,
because that's what I need,
and you don't care anyway.
TIME OF AFFILIATION*
Time will come when there will not be
names for anything,
nor the memories or the love,
when the curse will roll
stones in front of him
for those who once
used to be called a people.
And I still remember,
all persons who have touched
the childhood years of mine,
quiet noises of my youth,
peace among the branches of wild oranges,
'cos the child were climbed high,
almost to the clouds, to defy the gods.
Summer afternoon,
touch of the warm sea
and hot stones,
and strong sense of affiliation
long time ago lost in sinister silence.
Is that what I am so desperately missing
and searching in vain for all those years
among the rocks that were once people called?
*Originally published in the Greek magazine Vakxikon.gr
BIO: Tamara Pantović is the author of the poetry collection "Shadows of our Shadows". https://montenegrina.net/tamara-pantovic-sjene-nasih-sjena/ Her iconic essay "I am not my hair" was published on the Montenegrina.net portal. https://montenegrina.net/tamara-pantovic-ja-nijesam-moja-kosa/ International presence: Her poetry is included in the world anthology on Amazon (editor Ligia Wahya Isdani) http://www.amazon.com/A-Collection-Poetry-Various-Poets/dp/1493696688/ref=sr_1_1