Showing posts with label K. Pilapovich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label K. Pilapovich. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 8, 2009


These are my words

Still filled with longing

Yet no longer fueled by passion

These are my words

Hard and cruel to silence your lies

You the fair haired boy

I the dark maiden

These are my words

Strong the spell now broken

When I listen to yours

There is only the occasional dream

A shadow song

A field on a summer day

And the passing of time

K. Pilapovich

:image here

Friday, August 28, 2009


my mother (on the left) and aunt (via naomi rose)

I cannot remember loving you

Certainly the events

But never the feelings

They pass through my mind now as a question

What is true

How did I let this happen

Is youth really an excuse

The memory of you has faded

How could I have accepted so little

I blame myself

You were only a willing participant of a made up love

In a mind, fanciful and full of longing

It was settled long ago

And what remains is history and regret.

K. Pilapovich

K. Pilapovich is an unpublished Ukranian artist/poet. All poetry is translated from Ukranian. Secret, fragile skies is happy to introduce her work to our readers.

Photo: here

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Amor Fati

The stars foretold your coming and so I waited

Looking for auspicious signs of your arrival

But are the Fates playing with me?

Laughing, laughing

Silly, mortal woman to believe in love and fairy tales

And happily ever after

The secret ingredient tossed in on a whim

A chance meeting, the missed train, a look

The simple bits and pieces of alchemy that is the magic

They have grown tired of their folly

And cast only the occasional glance my way

As I search in vain for what is lost and never known.

K. Pilapovich

A Very Long Engagement

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Queen of Swords

Dreamlike and appearing to me
the queen of swords.
Her card is one of truth
My cards are wrapped,
boxed in wood
How has this message come to me
Years ago
I wanted to be the queen of wands,
fair, bestowing blessings
but I was her,
dark and ready to do battle.

K. Pilapovich

Queen of Swords

Thursday, January 8, 2009

The Studio

In the end
it was an act of conscience
that ended it.
I fell in love with your colors
and you were entertained by my innocence.
It was only a moment and
seldom do I remember the smell of paints
and the warm, city night.
I was not the young girl you thought me to be.

K. Pilapovich

Tuesday, January 6, 2009


I put my head down and waited for sleep
and waited.....
Wishing for dreams to reveal the answer
But sleep did not come
Only fitful tossing and the dreams
Had monster heads
And luggage to be packed before moving on
I thought I had let go and sleep would finally come
but the monster had a different name and spoke my fears.

K. Pilapovich

: magpie-moon

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Lost Mittens

My voice was not strong
Perhaps that is why you did not hear
I called your name but it was so cold that winter
I remember I wore mittens but chose to forgo the hat
We didn’t speak much after that
a word or two, some written cards
and you were gone
I don’t remember much more
except the color of the mittens.

K. Pilapovich
via: flickr

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Message in a bottle

trip to the rainforest [19/365] by holly.skye.
For Bob

That summer will always remain
so very still and close
I was afraid to breathe lest everything would dissolve
before I could take hold of your hand
and you would pull me back
to walk along that dusty dirt road
kicking up the stones with the tips of our boots
I can remember our laughter, giddy yet nervous
so frightened by the uncertainty of bits and pieces
of our lives falling apart
We sat on the old wooden bridge you and I
and the hours passed
our words drifting out into the river
like a message in a bottle
Hoping someone would save us.

K. Pilapovich
: flickr


© All rights reserved.

We buried him in the yard
only his ashes mind you
Now blown by the wind
and washed by the rain
Are you still hiding there
little pieces of bone
He would have wanted something else
No matter, he is gone
He loved open spaces
the sky, the west, cowboy boots and planes
The questions have ceased only
where was that secret place?

K. Pilapovich
via: flickr