Emina Smajevic
Nov 30, 2013

Uranium

Poem Body

She could hardly see
her palms
in outspreading mountain fog,

while she was breaking her echos
through rocky hills
of a laugh
with a louder one.

He remembers of her,

she was running all over the sea surface
like a little witch
laughing and calling him:
''Look at me!''
and he was glad to see her happy

beneath the half moon light.

Her eagle, is now a lonely bird
that lives off a meat of weak ones
that he, without any regrets, kills, of course,
here in the darkness
we are not able to see the destroying wings or

the real, small, thin half moon,
at the bottom of his cup he has found,
as he moves it disappears.

But then he stares like a statue
only his eye balls are moving rapidly.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Country/Region: Sarajevo Bosnia&Herzegovina

More from this author

Comments

Roscoe Lane

Though grammatically incorrect, this is poetically beautiful. This speaks to me of a haunting loss, someone remembering a lost love. As he stares at the bottom of his cup he imagines her there, as she ran free and happy. A heartfealt welcome to Neopoet, and this is a beautiful poem to start with. Love Roscoe...

Ian.T

Ian.T

11 years 4 months ago

An excellent poem just the odd grammatical error but this will become better the more you write.
Little things like:- He remembers of her..
It just needs the of to disappear, or it could be written
"He remembered her" but the first with remembers is more gentle.
that lives of a meat of weak ones (first of should be "off the")
No9t to worry about these things it will come as you write more, we have problems with English as even I do when there is an accent it fuzzes the words sometimes.
Great to have you walk with us here, Yours Ian.T

E

well I don't live in English-speaking world so it's a bit difficult for me but after a while it will come as you say Ian

and thanks for compliments
;)

Race_9togo

One of the things I most enjoy about poems written by those who don't speak English as a first language is the unique way words and structures are often put together.
As they are in this poem. The emotions are clear and poignant, and the way you have put together the lines and cadence is sometimes startling, sometimes smooth and powerful, but always strong and delicious.
The only thing I didn't like about this was the use of "eye balls". It just seems a bit too out of place, to me. I think that the word "eyes" would suffice.

I have not read any of your poetry before; I will now, on that basis of how good this poem is.

Well done, and keep writing; I am looking forward to your next poem.

Esker

Esker

8 years 7 months ago

for me is like starched underwear
because I live...meaning I lead with my face
take the bashers and crash a foe
I keep goingl..
garrolous man
careless man

Your poetry is not the stick stone mortar
of comformity
See dick..See Jane
they bestoweth a trek
to hilltop take
to dip their pales for vasser...
boring..boring .boring..

I live for writing like this...
raw....full of such passion
and color and metaphor...
my god ..most sucessful
cutlures are brain dead
white bread of imagination
fried out with drugs booze
sex and over indulgence
not a spec of Imagination
or risk...NO DARE...
everyone plodding along
like a Fritz Lang Movie
(he was a geniuse though!)

I still secretly read all your
works.....the land of fairy tales
over there....the old Homelands
fatherlands..motherlands...

Wild places I would visit
not the tourist lands
No Paris for me
Wolves and conjectures

this IS a love story of
longing....pain..passion
and clear eyes..

and above all a rapture
of intellectual exercise..

my friends at present in
my town are...
low level crackheads
and...the supreme alphas
techs with honors
whom know tech doctors
airliner pilots..all female
my female who knows
these is crazy about
me...Why...I am a bum
a cretin and creep
but I have intuition
I see beauty
and reason
through all the
whiney wheels
of treason

your writing makes
me think of winter..
cold startling dayz
rivers and mountians
old spirits
and a dreadful
spooky romanticism

thank U....thankU
and ThankU for
your work!!

I bow..what a proper
gentleman would do!

but then I have been
groomed....
sat at those tables...
some are never
invited
..

Esker

Esker

8 years 7 months ago

like wind chimes
like the bulk of machinery sleeping
organic and stone
metal and use of water
birds...

amazing..But I said this long ago

its like a dream

thank U...again...