Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010


by Antonio Vrsalovic

Burned canvas where she sat
Weary little ragged doll pool like thing
Now hollow without any tempting
The endless depression I soaked my tears
Dropping like flies in hot July
I dried them with August sun
I have no fears, I have no easy dreams
Except death dressed in velvet black
standing, talking, shouting in the corner
You are my friend I hate – the opposite
Still I invite you over for warm and afternoon
I wish I could love you dearest
and play your stories backwards stretched on bed
What grand voyage would that be!
Sweet reminiscence of possibilities never forgotten
despite the effort to build a shortcut I conclude

Vainless in vain…
As ship lost in a fog…
Futile prayer of old…
The loneliness I cannot bear pressing my heart!
Push me aside you Baboon, a Mirage!

Secluded in my own prison cell, a personal hell I chose for myself
Nothing to gain nothing to lose, life turned into
brutal struggle, a war between mind and emotions
pulling my limbs killing every resistance …
Face red and scared from wrinkled bed sheets
those tears and wretched sullen looks like witchery! 
I almost suffocate! I vomit my misery!
Strength to live on dirt floor found
O How I rolled in the dark!

Added: 28.04.2010