These solitary hills
have always been dear to me.
Seated here, this
sweet hedge,
which blocks the distant horizon
...opening inner silences
and
interminable distances.
I plunge in thought to
where my heart,
frightened,
pulls back.

Like the wind
which I hear tossing
the
trembling plants
which surround me,
a voice from the inner depths of
spirit
shakes the certitudes of thought.
Eternity breaks through
time,
past and present intermingle in her image.
In the inner
shadows
I lose myself,
drowning in the sea-depths of timeless love.

by Giacomo Leopardi

Socialite, a poem

Socialite

Rum-raisoned socialite stumbled
Gucci footed first into a puddle of promises.
Lifting herself from obscurity
she puckered up but missed the mouth of opportunity.

Waging war on ascots and aristocrats
stuck up her nose into the stale stagnant boardroom
of deals dealt on false fiscal dreams.
Dow Jonsing it up and down down and up
like a sorry spinning wheel of fortune
spreading herself thin till she was well spent.

Lucya W.K.Lebid @2010

© 2010, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

A Reflection by Taras Shevchenko

A Reflection

The river empties to the sea,
But out it never flows;
The Cossack lad his fortune seeks,
But never fortune knows.
The Cossack lad has left his home,
He's left his kith and kind;
The blue sea's waters splash and foam,
Sad thoughts disturb his mind:

"Why, heedless, did you go away?
For what did you forsake
Your father old, your mother grey,
Your sweetheart, to their fate?
In foreign lands live foreign folks,
Their ways are not your way:
There will be none to share your woes
Or pass the time of day."

Across the sea, the Cossack rests --
The choppy sea's distraught.
He thought with fortune to be blessed --
Misfortune is his lot.
In vee-formation, 'cross the waves
The cranes are off for home.
The Cossack weeps -- his beaten paths
With weeds are overgrown...

Taras Shevchenko
St. Petersburg, 1839.
Translated by John Weir Toronto

Purge....a poem

Purge

The need to purge the urge
to let out a primal scream deemed
necessary for survival
of the species sees
seafoam spit
on the sidewalk stressed.
Dressed to kill in
stillettos still
waiting for the
pop to drop and stop
the senseless beating
of a different drum
that goes up
in smoke signals most of the time.
What a waste of prime property.
The liberty and the pursuit of happy nest.
Go west young man and scream dream beam your love
on x-ray eyes
that are blinded by the light
bright and clear
only to fear your tears away or
play the brain drain game and stump the snob.
Snip the significance down to size and
win the prize that
dies a slow death
with one last
breath.

Lucya W. K. Lebid @ 2009
12-14-09
© 2009, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

When Man Enters Woman - Anne Sexton

When Man Enters Woman
- Anne Sexton

When man,
enters woman,
like the surf biting the shore,
again and again,
and the woman opens her mouth with pleasure
and her teeth gleam
like the alphabet,
Logos appears milking a star,
and the man
inside of woman
ties a knot
so that they will
never again be separate
and the woman
climbs into a flower
and swallows its stem
and Logos appears
and unleashes their rivers.

This man,
this woman
with their double hunger,
have tried to reach through
the curtain of God
and briefly they have,
through God
in His perversity
unties the knot.

Cheeky, a poem

Cheeky

Self absorbed in herself,
she danced alone in front of many.
Not thinking thoughts that
would end this madness.
In her mind she deserved
the praise and applaud.
Feeling cheeky in the moment
checking her image in the mirror
so satisfied and smug
she smiled and danced away
into her dream.

by Lucya W.K.Lebid @3/09

© 2009, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

The Poverty Diet...A Poem

I could buy
99 cent bread and milk
or a few gallons of gas
to go to work or pay
for a bus ride to nowhere or
maybe even keep my job but
then my family doesn't eat because
I needed to get to work and
use the money for gas but
then i get fired anyway cuz my kids get sick and
I had to stay home and
get medicine with my last dollar and
then the man comes to turn off the heat and
my kids have to eat a cold can of soup.
The man decides,
the man decides when I work,eat,heat my house.
The man decides.
He pushes the buttons,
he pushes my buttons,
he pushes me to the wall.

Lucya W.K.Lebid @2008

water lily reflections

waterlilies

purple and green lilypads

orange lily pad

orange lily pad

Dreaming in Green, a poem

poem

“Dreaming in Green”
In the dark you
cannot see lumps,
bumps, cellulite
or scars.
Only two souls
intertwining
dancing deliciously
till dawn.
Delving deep into
mirrored moonlit waters
coming up only for air.
Transported to a
netherworld
of nothing
but us.
Encapsulated in
a bubble of this one
moment
drunk on dark delights.
Time stops
while
listening to music
meant for only the
moon to hear.
The silent branches
of the trees outside
swaying
back and forth
to your whispers.
by Lucya W K Lebid
@25 May 2010

© 2010, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

little one...a poem

little one

Mucho many moons ago
in a languid liquid lava flow
of love. A little blossom was born
and syrupy sweet
in disposition.
Delicate in demeanor
flitting flower to flower
in her fishnet feet barely
pausing to pollinate.
Oblivious to the
looming legacy that was
hers to keep.

by Lucya W.k. Lebid @ 4 Jan'10
© 2010, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

Seeing Red, a poem

Seeing Red

As Madame Keravona's perfume wafted past my desk
my mind drifted from conjugating French verbs.
To think...I had the audacity to wear my
Little Red Riding Hood
poncho in public,
made in my 7th grade sewing class
strutting out of school
not realizing that the 7th grade brain
was not ready to accept
the redness, the roundness,
the pom-pomed perimeter of my poncho.
I ran down the street hoping no one would notice
the red-faced tear-stained
poncho-girl. And
all the while the pubescent boys
pointing and laughing.

Lucya WK Lebid
31 Jan 2010

 © 2010, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved

"according to Vedanta, is that God is both transcendent and imminent."

“I am immanent in every being. People forget Me, who is within and without them; I am the inner core of every being, but, they are not aware of this. So, they are tempted to believe the objective world to be real and true, and they pursue objective pleasures and fall into grief and pain. On the other hand, if they concentrate all attention on Me alone, believing that the Lord has willed everything and everyone, I bless them and reveal to them the Truth that they are I and I am they. Thousands have been blessed thus. They are the seekers, the aspirants, the Mahatmas, the Sages, the Divinely Inspired, the Manifestations of the Divine, the Guides who show the path. They have acquired the experience that Truth is Dharma (sacred duty).”~the DNA of God