Sporadic Poetry

Shock Waves

In the proximity of explosion
Light blinding, shrapnel lodging
Disorientation, head pulsating
Slow-mo without sound.

Shock waves breaking
Relentless surf upon shore
When the visible is no more
Pain to the core.

Insidious, radioactive
Unseen, searing from within
Forever carried, in ribcage buried
A mother’s death is mourned.

~ Eva Blaskovic, July 2017

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Past pursues me
Over landscapes fair or torn.
At last, breathless, I turn;
I smite him with my sword.

But through a spirit my blade only passes,
Sliced figure soon reformed,
Already moving, reaching, as I whirl–
At a run, flee on road unknown.

~ Eva Blaskovic, June 2016, April 2017
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Starfield, diamond white,
Indigo lake,
And I’m running.

Forest path, leaf-littered,
Backlit trees,
And I’m running.

Blacktop, crest of hill,
Mountain vista,
Where I’m running.

Not running from, not to,
Only with and for always;
Bird-light and free,
The young me,
Who still can, if in dreams,
Be running.

~ Eva Blaskovic, October 2017

Menace in the Sky

In stealth it approaches,
Charcoal face with blazing eyes
That flash and flicker in its fearsome fringe.
Low rumbling now escapes its throat;
Jowls billowing, it glides and creeps,
In hopes of catching unaware
The prey on which it’s set to pounce
In dreadful light and crashing snarl.

Deceptively, its pelt first soft,
But then a deluge, a wet embrace,
Heavy, dense, obscuring all,
No longer warning. With tongue on face,
The finality of its intent.

~ Eva Blaskovic, July 2016


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Our Squirrel

Our squirrel races up the branches,
Leaping fast from tree to tree;
Pauses just beyond the sprinkling
Of snowflakes gath’ring silently.

His winter stores now sit depleted,
Once plentiful in autumn sun;
Pine cones in September gathered,
Carefully placed, hauled one by one.

In bleak late winter, past our window,
White sun passes in an arc
Behind a tree yet bare of spring’s kiss:
Frigid days have left their mark.

~ Eva Blaskovic, February 2017


Monuments of Doom

We build empires,
Hearts a-flutter,
Bricks weightless
Upon wings of hope.

How heavy the bricks
And leaden our sorrow,
When brick by brick in reverse
We toil,
No longer raising legacies,
But taking down walls,
To free our flightless souls
From their oblivious captors.

~ Eva Blaskovic, June 2015

Ravages of Time

As Prairie grass, once green and lush,
Whose time has come, now withers and dies,
So a little home that once nurtured life
Now alone and hollow is laid to waste.

Dilapidated, forlorn, it fades into time
As the fields fade into murky fog;
The season carelessly marches on;
The old year methodically ticks away.

Brittle boards in relentless wind,
Brown as death, they shear and fall;
While the grasses sway until they snap,
Then on the cold breeze drift away.

~ Eva Blaskovic, 2006?/2015
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The Prophecy

When Thousand-Year Cycle at Summer Solstice ends
The Spirit renews and the Temperate Land mends
If the Spirit is freed from the Rosenthal walls
Prosperity returns, men no evil befalls

A Freer, in time, the Nine Crystals must choose
The Stone of Life the new Freer shall use
A key to the Chamber in light of Blood Moon
Before the Completion, lest Darkness consume

~ Eva Blaskovic, November 2014
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Fantasy Adventure

Cover art by Phobaphobia Productions

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CLICK HERE: When Snow Gets You Down, Write Songs


Doomed to Repeat

The aha! moment,
Instant of discovery–
We crave it.

To work through,
Discover on our own,
Is a joy—
An understanding
Like no other.

It is how we learn,
How we grow,
Become wise.

It is a strength
But also a weakness.
One lifetime is short,
And history is vast.

The knowledge of lifetimes
Is carelessly cast;
We repeat, repeat,
And never move past.

~ Eva Blaskovic, February, May 2017

Patience Is A Virtue

Have patience, chubby toddler.
Do you not know
That good things come
To those who wait?

Have patience, little schoolgirl,
For you are not yet grown.
What do you expect? Your best years
Are yet to come.

Have patience, dear young woman,
For your career is but beginning.
Work hard first,
And be sure to pay your dues.

Have patience, ragged middle-ager.
Your energy wanes,
But you must endure.
Sip tea to ease your hunger.

Have patience, frail old woman.
The turning point comes.
Success is near. A little longer.
A little longer.

Patient, still, on your death bed?
Yet you draw your final breaths.
The only thing that came in time
To save you–was your death.

~ Eva Blaskovic, May 2014


is like a fire
whipping ‘round
and reaching for the top
of the highest.

is a desire
to be
what you want to have;
but wanting to have
the best,
you acquaint yourself
with eternal quest.

~ Eva Blaskovic, 1979
2nd prize, poetry contest

2 Responses to Sporadic Poetry

  1. Enjoyed your poetry, Eva! Keep up the good work! 😉


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