Ella ROMM

To My Children

 

A book of poetryby Ella Romm

                                                                                                            San Diego, CA, 2024

                                                                                                                     © Romm Ella, 2012

 

About Us

 

***

I will hug the Globe with all my passion,

I will touch the rainbow’s beam

In my world of care and compassion,

Where you can be free and have a dream.

In this world, no cannons will be rumbling,

No guns will ever make a blast,

People will be lovable and humble,

And deserve humanity at last.

It will be a marvelous creation!

Everybody would agree, I bet…

It is only my imagination,

But, at least, I can begin from that.

***

 

In my not-easy everyday endeavor

I have a dream I wish to be fulfilled:

To stop the shootings at the schools

forever

So that no children ever will be killed.

I wish the wars to leave the Earth behind,

To end the disagreements in the world.

What can one mind do to other minds?

How can I use the power of words?

There is no hope but helplessness around,

Death can disguise itself in every place.

The morning news will always bring me down,

And bitter tears will never leave my face.

***

You say to me: - Don’t cry your eyes, my dear.

It is too much; don't shed another tear.

You better write about something sweet

Give us a story everyone can eat.

About good and not about bad.

Life is all right, but you are always sad…

Why should I lie? It's not like that at all.

When was the joy? I even can’t recall.

There is bad blood, hostility, and rage

Not everyone is on the same page.

The war is here; terrorists don't sleep;

And everywhere, you hear moans and weep.

The planet is a scary place to stay

You can one day become somebody’s prey.

Death pounds on the frightening tam-tam.

And I am petrified; yes, I am.

The breaking news is stressful and depressed

But I am trying hard to do my best.

The world is harsh and evil, I admit.

And I’m doomed to write about it.

***

I am writing about nothing,

But still versing a simple rhyme.

I am sobbing about nothing –

Crying never becomes a crime.

I am not in a rush or hurry -

But my time is passing by.

Even though I’m feeling sorry,

I’m saying to you - goodbye.

I am asking about nothing,

Fortune-telling upon a star,

And I feel absolutely nothing -

Just the loneliness so far.

***

I do not want to become somebody’s prey,

And to see the tunnel after I've been shot.

I do not want my body to be in blood,

Or to face the Last Judgment before my day.

 

I do not want a bomb to tear me apart,

The bomb does not know what is wrong.

I do not want to die under the rubles alone,

Because I am not ready yet to depart.

 

I do not know what to expect,

And it is so heavy and bitter inside my chest.

What will tomorrow bring? Will I be blessed?

We are all hostages, and that is not correct.

***

War is a skinny, disfigured woman.

She doesn't hear those crying in the night,

Because she lost her hearing a long time ago -

She will not respond; don’t shout.

War is hunchbacked and blind,

But she will not become weaker,

And she has only one job:

Kill, kill, kill, kill.

But if everyone around is killed,

Does that mean the closure of it all,

so shells will go out of fashion,

and bullets are no longer in demand?

The War will go away, perhaps, into the oblivion,

But at the end, she will say, “All die!”

Blowing up the unfortunate planet,

And there will be no Earth at all.

 

***

The daylight is dim, but who cares?

The nightfall is full of nightmares,

I try to survive in the darkness. 

What's wrong with the sky? It is starless.

I watched how a butterfly died.

It burned in the flame, I cried.

The scorpion made his potion.

I’ll drink it with no emotions. 

***

In the distant Heavens -

Yellow pond, the sun…

Dead are easy-goers,

Not the living ones.

Day by day is passing,

Vanity and bread.

Be afraid of people,

Not of those dead.

Say that I am silly,

Sigh, or even yawn,

Darkness haunts the living,

Not the ones who've gone.

Only with the living,

I am so tense,

And my friend - the Raven

lordly rides the fence.

 

***

What’s nostalgia? Have any idea?

In the morning, I woke up so sad,

Dreaming of my dear gran Maria

Coming home as if she wasn’t dead.

In this vivid dream, I was insisting

Intercept her gaze and touch her hand.

Saying farewell is so twisting!

Why’d we part? I’ll never understand.

Sorry, granny, I am not so clever,

No answer to the question, why?

Dear granny, will I see you ever

In the havens right upon the sky?

Here I am alone, without an answer,

Time is gone, and there is no hint.

Spinning Earth, the everlasting dancer,

Will you keep my very last footprint?

                                                     To Viktoriya

I have had red lipstick on my makeup

And I wore provoking little dresses,

I enjoyed to show off or act up

‘Cause I valued all the little stressors.

Cheaters and con artists loved my smile,

I was set to fall apart in vain

But I never stood a bitch, my style

Differs, I won’t say this word again.

Freezing rains, hails, and whiteouts, 

Even when the problems came together

I felt sorry for my men, no doubt.

Naked nerves and naked knees presented,

Falling down, rising up so quickly,

I was never easy-oriented,

But in love, I always felt so sickly. 

So, I have become an ancient lady 

As a turtle, giant, smart, and great.

And my daughter wears my wings already.

Let her fly and always be au fait.  

Let her smile and delight the crowd,

Wearing skirts that barely can cover.

We’re the same, and my only doubt

That red lipstick she had not discovered. 

 

          

                                                  To Nicole

Spring was in the air, below and above,

The little fifteen has just fallen in love.

She played with her dolls, but as time flew by,

The different games she was dared to try.

The girl didn't know the ordinance yet,

And how the love she’s supposed to get.

She felt so lonely she bitterly cried,

And, little by little, her optimism died.

She needs to remember excitement and fun.

The boy she was hurt by -  he wasn’t the one. 

The happier days will appear once more, 

The tears will get dry, and the wounds not so sore,

She will be in love not just once, not just twice.

And so stop crying - my piece of advice.

I envy this girl; I should tell you, my friend,

Let's wish her a journey without the end.

Poor me, I cannot fall in love anymore,

Like little fifteen, who is crying next door.

 

***

The sailors stand on solid land,

The days at sea are gone.

They've met by boiling summer sand,

The jelly of the sun.

But something was in error there:

The grass, the trees, the heat,

The hound howled at the air,

The feeling of defeat.

They are like Martians on Earth,

Where all appeared wrong,

And nothing ever will be worth

The sea where they belong.

                 

 

                                  

                                                  To Nicole

 

I will never be ready to tell you goodbye,

Please, don't take off your childhood yet.

Crazy mother, without you, will not survive,

And she will not be happy, you bet.

How instantly time has flown away,

Ripping you from my sorrowful heart?

You’re the last of my children and, sure, I can say - 

Life without you seems so hard.

Well, I still have your diaries, childhood stuff,

Plushy cat from the earlier days.

You are my antipode and my valuable half, 

You’re my air, my wind, and my blaze.

Don't be sad while standing with me at the door

Let me hug you, my bliss and my pride. 

I will kiss you goodbye, and as never before

Joy and sadness will tangle inside.

***

I was staring tiredly at my note-pad

Tired of thinking, I decided to draw.

I found the brushes but not the paints.

The blue one is the only one I saw.

Well, let the house, the road, and the garden be blue.

I am not an artist - I hope you'll forgive me.

After brief doubts, I dissolved the blue paint in water

Making it light and dreamy.

The poppy and the poplar are blue on the white as chalk paper.

The blue ship is in a dark blue sea.

The very blue cat is on the porch.

The cat pokes its nose and paws at the blue milk in a sapphire cup.

The road is blue. The woods are blue.

People are saying the blue words.

And with the blue paint, everything turned blue.

Even eyes are shining with blue sparks.

However, my neighbor-boy laughed hysterically:

Who drew such a terrible scribble?

I do not feel sad or knit my brows.

I am not an artist - he will forgive me.

 ***

The pieces on the board are set to start the
                                                          Game.

Each has its own way; each has a lot of guts.

The bishop told the pawn: "How dare you,
                                                              insane!"

"Get lost - the pawn replied – it’s you, not
                                                me, who’s nuts”. 

Now, here comes the Queen. The pieces kiss
                                                          the ground.

They cherish hope at heart and only wish to win,

They can’t approach the Queen; they just
                                            can’t get around –

She is the only one, which means - nobody's Queen.

 Well, pawns are only pawns, and they are not that clever.

They scribble happy rhymes, enjoying them, it
                                                                  seems,

And hardly realize they will be lost forever. Don't ever try 

                                          to fall in love with such a  Queen. 

I’ve played the wild game (I could have
                                                    done it better).

Someday, I was the Queen,
                                  someday, a little pawn.

The chessboard lies aside, but does it
                                                      really matter,

If the result is here, this straightforward

                                                                    song?

 

 

About love

 

***

It is a fog before your eyes,

And everything is fake.

You think you drank a bottle - lie,

It was a wine lake.

 

I know what you came for

So go ahead - your call.

For you, the guilt was never sore,

Was not the guilt at all.

 

Your pupils are a giant hole,

That’s squeezing as the ring.

I am a helpless little doll

You only pull the string.

 

The humid night is sticky sludge.

Left nothing of the day.

The fire burns. Don't ever touch.

Don't ever touch, they say.

 

The fire bursts inside of you

As candles in the dark

I was resilient, but I knew -

My soul needs a spark.

 

***

I'll take each rain, every leaf,

And every lonely day,

The bright moon - your only gift,

I’ll bring with me away,

The bloody berries in the snow,

The snow on the ground.

Goodbye, my love. I let you go.

I never turn around.

***

My soul is a mess. I’m not afraid of scandal.

I like the crowd to yell and grumble right at me.

I tear my heart apart. I burn up like a candle.

That’s why you are still with me. That’s why you are still with me.

 

If you’re afraid, don’t come or even cross my road.

I won’t ever ask, and you will never try.

But if you brave enough, we’ll take my paper boat,

Or my tinfoil jet to sail or to fly.

 

The moon above my roof is just imagination,

And I don’t know what I’m really sleepless for.

You want to leave my home without hesitation,

But there are no windows, and there is no door.

 

***

January - is the perfect month for romance

Especially for the Ice Queen.

I stare at you through the glacial lens. 

And I don't care who loses, who wins.

Blindness is what I actually need,

I am shutting my predictive third eye.

Even if my heart shell bleed

I am not scared to break my protective ice.

 

***

You can't understand my soul -

It's not your fault.

Try to it from my bowl -

The food is cold.

It's cold as a stone

And as my heart.

I won't ignite by my own -

Please make me hot.  

***

His image won't pass away,

It’s in my head: the mid-July,

His smile, and the Milky Way,

The honeybee that came by.

 

I left my soul in his hands.

I lost my sight inside his eyes.

He wouldn’t give me any chance -

‘Cause he is wise.

 

***

Don't let my love spill from your hand.

Sip it, or drink it up.

Give me some time, and you'll understand

The flavor of the very last drop.

Don't let your dream simply fade away.

Lock it, or set it free.

To be able to breathe, I need you to stay

At least in my memory.

***

Yes… My soul is dying, but I feel no pain.

The fall is a folly, and the rain is sad.

I invited my friends for a glass of champagne

To mention my soul, that is practically dead.

Someone will say that my soul was flying

Even when the sky was not so blue. 

Only You will be standing in the corner, lying

How much my soul did not love you.

I cry in the empty room, drinking my tea -

This is the end of the game.

Because my soul and I are the same

I am dead too, and all that talk is about me… 

***

By the wave of the wand

Or Creator’s command

Over our goodbyes

I will walk till the end. 

 

With someone or without

But not cautious at all.

I will try to forget you.

And I won’t recall.

 

***

The room smells of sandalwood,

It's early winter.

Ash and maple trees are sad,

A snowdrift rises fast.

His name is Pygmalion

And she is Galatea.

The gods are deaf to Pygmalion’s prayers,

He is a fish that hits the ice,

And now and then, there are rumors

That he lives with the statue,

That he's an unfortunate pervert,

And that he does not care about morality.

Despite this, the baby sleeps in the cradle.

And the baby is a stone, as the mother.

***

Touch me, my dear, touch me! I’m putting away my jacket,

Unbuttoning all my garments, unzipping my tight jeans.

Touch me, I have a ticket, the ticket is in my pocket,

It’ll bring us to Hell or Heaven, whatever the journey means.

 

Playing with my brassiere, flirty, alive, seductive,

I know you want to follow my steps in this risky game.

However, the act of stripping, forbidden yet so attractive,

I’ll play all the way this evening. Don’t blame me, my dear, don’t blame.

 

My blouse is slipping down, revealing the skin like marble,

You touch it, and then, lightheaded, you’ll want to enjoy the play,

But sooner rather than later, you’ll stumble upon a hurdle -

You won’t get me that easy. Today, I will sleep away.

 

I’m fish in a glass aquarium; you can not bring me aground,

So go and drink some water, cool down, I’ll go along.

And try to release your envy; pretend you unleash a hound.

Today, I will stay unchallenged, not theirs, not yours—my own.

 

About Autumn

 

***

I walk on a yellow carpet,

On the short path,

Just to watch

The autumn play.

I hear rustling leaves under my steps.

And the air is so pure!

The maple leaf floats,

Forgotten and silent.

It floats as if it is weightless.

We burn fires,

And in the sky,

The autumn smoke rises.

 

***

Sunny days are over.

Everything is down.

The unfriendly snow

Falls upon the ground.

 

Snowflake has died

On the soil frame.

Everything is white,

Everything is the same.

***

Endless summer suddenly flew away.

I am taking a deserted train without buying a ticket.

This train will crawl tiredly down the railroad.

And it will be impossible to tell where the beginning and the end of the way are.

Nights are becoming longer - and days are chilly. Don't blame yourself for maples being yellow.

The yellow color of the leaves is like uncleaned dust -

Thus, the fairy tale is over, and the true story starts.

What marvelous yellow colors around!

The burned-out days turned yellow. Fall is everywhere.