A Selection of Poetry from Borris Iver Kortrevich - Vol. 7

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 7

[!] A portrait of teenage Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

17th of Msitza and Dargund, 418 E.S.

 

 

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“Sunflower”

 

As golden the afternoon sun, you outstretched 

Yourself high into the air. Tall and beautiful, you

Tower above everything and everyone. Green 

Leaves topped with a yellow brimmed hat. 

 

 

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“Friend Lost”

 

The wilting of a flower, ever doomed.

Sprouted from seeds of a ignorance

And morphed into a beautiful bloom.

Yet deep inside lies the insolence.

 

Taken from thin air, this wisp of rose

Stands before the rest in glorious display

Yet approached, only further does it expose

The glinting of hurt under, chaos and disarray.

 

Molded despair which has been wrought,

Agonizing venom seeps through veins,

Seeping, grasping, clawing its way out.

Then spews around in deadly rains.

 

Unintentionality reeps the same bitter seed,

Arising from such meager beginning to this,

Inevitable destructuction, choking weed.

Harvest sown greets only with an abyss.

 

Everything has been broken, bits and 

Pieces scattered about across the dirt floor.

 

 

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“From Cracked to Shattered”

 

Below the stars, before the window pane,

I long for you but you just break my heart.

So why oh why do I hold in this pain. 

A delicate piece of glass, work of art. 

Sculptured with care, encased by the rampart

Brittle in nature, when dropped it shatters

I try to keep it safe, out of harm’s sight

Grasping it for dear life, holding it tight.

 

 

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“Hands of Healing”

 

I was nothing, sunk into by fangs 

Yet you took me from that

Terrible disposition, melding 

Everything back into a whole. 

 

You lead me away from such 

darkness and back towards light.

A hand guiding me from afar. 

One I despised turned to greet me.

 

When I was at my lowest

This hand carefully brought 

Me back from my depths and 

Sprouting within me hope again.

 

Friend! Friend! I will call you.

I see you standing at the gates

And so a move to meet you again

I shall always do that now.

 

Talked for hours, catching 

Up on every little detail.

We laugh, we cry, we rant, 

yell, and share our lives.

 

You show me how to dance,

Though I step on your toes.

We spin, again and again,

Nervousness turns to enjoyment.

 

There is a warmth felt inside,

Different from a romantic fire.

A care is exchanged, a mutual

Understanding of each other.

 

 

 

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Signed,

Borris Iver Kortrevich

[lalo 297]

Eileen Baruch read through every line of poetry all the way to the end - frowning as she couldn't wait for the next selection to come out!