Tears from Heaven: Poem

"Tears from Heaven:” Poem

Every breath I take, every move I make

You're the man that I won't ever forsake

My dreams said you can feel this heart

Not even our universe can pull us apart

Your name on the melody sung in spring

Our ecstasy spilling from an angel's wing

Falling kisses worship flesh born unto sin

Recall each memory & remembering when

Shooting stars, chasing tears from heaven

Love letters sealed under heart's confession

Horizons await for romance to save the day

Not even the strike of midnight could betray

Meadowlarks singing our favorite love songs

Caught between the lines etched in our palms

When I say I love you I know that it's not wrong

Every minute in my veins is where you belong

We don't have to kneel down to say any prayers

Because together standing forever always pairs

Please place our infinite kiss softly upon my lips

I will thank God & the stars for granting my wish

The Punk Poe…

Always Be Punk…

Always Be Drunk…

(On Poetry)

The Balts or Baltic People: History

 The Balts or Baltic people (Lithuanian: baltai, Latvian: balti) are a group of peoples inhabiting the eastern coast of the Baltic Sea who speak Baltic languages. Among the Baltic peoples are modern-day Lithuanians (including Samogitians) and Latvians (including Latgalians) — all East Balts — as well as the Old Prussians, Curonians, Sudovians, Skalvians, Yotvingians and Galindians — the West Balts — whose languages and cultures are now extinct, but made a large influence on the living branches, especially on literary Lithuanian language.

The Balts are descended from a group of Proto-Indo-European tribes who settled the area between the lower Vistula and southeast shore of the Baltic Sea and upper Daugava and Dnieper rivers, and which over time became differentiated into West and East Balts. In the fifth century CE, parts of the eastern Baltic coast began to be settled by the ancestors of the Western Balts, whereas the East Balts lived in modern-day Belarus, Ukraine and Russia. In the first millennium CE, large migrations of the Balts occurred. By the 13th and 14th centuries, the East Balts shrank to the general area that the present-day Balts and Belarusians inhabit.

Baltic languages belong to the Balto-Slavic branch of the Indo-European languages. One of the features of Baltic languages is the number of conservative or archaic features retained.

The Balts or Baltic peoples, defined as speakers of one of the Baltic languages, a branch of the Indo-European language family, are descended from a group of Indo-European tribes who settled the area between the lower Vistula and southeast shore of the Baltic Sea and upper Daugava and Dnieper rivers. The Baltic languages, especially Lithuanian, retain a number of conservative or archaic features, perhaps because the areas in which they are spoken are geographically consolidated and have low rates of immigration.

Some of the major authorities on Balts, such as Kazimieras Būga, Max Vasmer, Vladimir Toporov and Oleg Trubachyov,[citation needed] in conducting etymological studies of eastern European river names, were able to identify in certain regions names of specifically Baltic provenance, which most likely indicate where the Balts lived in prehistoric times. According to Vladimir Toporov and Oleg Trubachyov, the eastern boundary of the Balts in the prehistoric times were the upper reaches of the Volga, Moskva, and Oka rivers, while the southern border was the Seym river. This information is summarized and synthesized by Marija Gimbutas in The Balts (1963) to obtain a likely proto-Baltic homeland. Its borders are approximately: from a line on the Pomeranian coast eastward to include or nearly include the present-day sites of Berlin, Warsaw, Kyiv, and Kursk, northward through Moscow to the River Berzha, westward in an irregular line to the coast of the Gulf of Riga, north of Riga.[citation needed]

However, other scholars such as Endre Bojt (1999) reject the presumption that there ever was such a thing as a clear, single "Baltic Urheimat":

'The references to the Balts at various Urheimat locations across the centuries are often of doubtful authenticity, those concerning the Balts furthest to the West are the more trustworthy among them. (...) It is wise to group the particulars of Baltic history according to the interests that moved the pens of the authors of our sources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balts

map is Countries with a predominantly Baltic population

to be continued...

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The Day I Went Away: Story

 

THE DAY I WENT AWAY.

The day I left, I heard you cry, but I could not console you.

Forgive me, I heard you were begging me to stay.

I heard you got angry; I heard your pain. Forgive me for causing you such a great pain.

I had to leave, even though I didn't want to leave, I love you and I always have why would I leave? I cried too, watching me walk away from you, but then, I looked ahead and, you can't imagine how beautiful it is what I saw.

Someday you will see it, with your own eyes, you will see the beautiful place where I live.

Neither you nor I understand why we had to separate, I've seen your tears, I've saw your sleepless nights, I've watched how you look at my things and miss a hug from me, but you know? I'm closer than you think. I am happy.

The only thing I'm missing to never stop being, is to see you smile again.

P.S Your angel from heaven, smiles....

When I come to the end of the road

 

When I come to the end of the road: Poem

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little, but not for long

And not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that once we shared

Miss me, but let me go.

For this is a journey we all must take

And each must go alone.

It's all part of the master plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the friends we know.

Laugh at all the things we used to do

Miss me but let me go ..

Christina Rosetti

What about Tulips? Poem

 

What about Tulips? Poem

Roses are red,

The violets are blue.

The love never stopped for you.

What about tulips?

They capture February

As someone has to be fairy

And first to capture the change.

It is not strange

When I sit on the bench

To captivate nature's masterpiece

And tulips' dance in the breeze.

The graceful whispering

Of the symphony rhythm is swaying.

Only God knows how to bring joy

Out of grief and ashes, o' boy!

Tomshinsky@2025

The Inner Creative Process

The Inner Creative Proces: Story

Why does an artist want to present his work to the world? I sometimes think about this question. Do I want to know? Do you want to be applauded? Tell me how talented I am? I sure do. But is that the whole story? Or maybe trying to present my work in the world is the desire to feel that I have a place in it? In some way majority artist is a lonely person, the creation process is personal and there is a lot of loneliness. Perhaps an artist's desire to share his work with the world is out of a desire to feel understood, to feel smooth. To feel that he is seen. When the audience out there appreciates the artist's work it's like saying "You have a place here, you are important". Creating without presenting is a bit like living in a cage. Like writing poems for a drawer. When the world meets my creation, it gives it some meaning. On the other hand, this is tricky. Because the crowd out there too, it doesn't have any real essence, it transitions and changes and it's even fictitious. And the fact that some people looked at my work is not a measure of its value or quality. Really, creation has its own existence. Even if it's a poem that stayed in the drawer and no one ever read it. The inner creative processes that take place in the artist's mind have value, existence and fulfillment even if no one outside will ever know about them. And deep down the artist doesn't need external approval, or recognition. The creation itself has truths even without the applause of the audience.

So, this is the kind of dance that the artist dances, between the desire to feel like he belongs to the world, the desire to be seen, and to remember that deep down he does not depend on it, and there is always value for his existence.

Sleeping Alone: Story

 Sleeping Alone: Short Story

Once you get used of being sleep next to someone you loved, sleeping alone in your own bed really sucks. Honestly, sleeping to someone you love and know is the nicest thing. When you are half awake, let say, at four in the morning, and squeeze the hand next to you; or when your loved one moves tighter to you to keep you warm and safe, are the best feeling ever.

I never was sleeping alone. It is strange that the other side of the bed is empty and cold. You just lay in bed and wait when the sleep kicks in. Daytime is different, it looks like my love just is somewhere around, doing something, busy with something, and will be back soon. 

And then dark nights are replaced with daytime, it is the natures' law, every twelve hours comes night of sleeping alone and mornings of living alone. Days without voice talking. Music, coffee, and poetry help. Keep you occupied. And repeat. Routine, necessities, and one long-time promise of continuing to live and breathe. People who know life say that only strong humans survive. You listen, and you are learning to sleep alone, cooking for one. You try to work hard and keep yourself busy all day long to fall asleep faster, reduce the feelings of depression, and continue to live. You try your best. 

(IT@2025)

Review by Mattew Addo. I can relate to what you’re describing about the difficulty of sleeping alone after getting used to the comforting presence of someone you love. It’s strange how that emptiness in the bed can feel so loud at night, even when everything else around you is still. The warmth and safety of knowing someone is just there, even in those half-awake moments, is something that’s hard to replicate when you’re on your own.

It does feel like you go through a routine, filling the days with distractions to keep the loneliness at bay, but the nights always seem to stretch longer. Sometimes it’s the smallest moments, like reaching out for a hand in the dark or just having the comfort of someone else’s presence, that make all the difference. And yet, over time, you learn to adjust, to find comfort in your own company, and in the quiet spaces that once felt so heavy. It’s a slow process, but it’s also one of growth, learning how to navigate solitude while still holding on to the memories of love.