Made Sense at the Time

18th May, 1995

A note with tear stains on it,
heart-rending, in my mind.
Most probably, just cheesy.
I locked it in a case, thinking I hid it well.
It made perfect sense at the time:
my move, the note, its hiding place.

I never saw the note again,
I roughly remember what it said.
I saw deaths after that, but no one saw mine.
When I look back, it made perfect sense. At the time.
I still wonder where the note is.

(c) Mariya Koleva, 2017

This poem was written for Poetic Asides Wednesday Prompt # 419 – “made sense at the time”


Process notes? Not really. Who can say what it means, or what caused this? I can’t. Just read. Enjoy. I hope you can.

Melodrama is harder than death
Image by eltonfernandes


Death is not easy
Unlike melodrama
Silence is heavier
than hot teardrops.

©MK, 2014

Note about the image. I really like it. I often use images by artists on the Deviant Art to accompany my poems. I can only hope the words do them credit.

Down for Cocktails

Thinking while standing in the non-smoking “compartment” of a hard-smoking cocktail bar… I came into the “Down for Cocktails” piece. Later, I found a nice piece of art to go with it.

Image: suicidebysafetypin
Image: suicidebysafetypin

The first signs of novelty
and fresh coming
just bumped into me,
unawares of my presence,
surprised there’s something
in their path – a living thing
or else…

The first signs of delivery
crazily hopped in their
straight jackets,
hoping they have found
their new existence
after the decay of injuries
and stuff…

Decay followed all bursts of laughter
believing they will die
first thing in the morning.

© 2014, soul mary

Featured image: same artist

Like an Ocean

28 to Create, Day 24 – Like an Ocean

Like an ocean
spilling itself all over my fragile frame
not remembering,
nor bothering to do so.

Just pouring out all over
the past, the essence and the
that will go out in dimness,
when desire is dead,
instead of going out
in roaring flame
of falsified
stumbling in the asphalt road.

Like an ocean –
smooth and mellow,
blinding me with its salt
bellowing at my deafness,
catching my eagerness to take a rest
and tormenting it as fake
or irrelevant.

Like an ocean –
bury me in your abyss,
away from people’s eyes
and memories;
Deafen their yells
of gossiping sympathy,
of curiosity ill-fitted.

I want to sleep
and let go.
The water glides
along my cold silky fingers
Let go
of me,
my cool ocean.

© 2014, soulmary

Featured image: ranarh at DA

Cuddle your nightmare – NovPAD, Day 8

November Poem-A-Day Challenge, Day 08 – Inanimate Object Poem

Image by: ElenaDudina
Image by: ElenaDudina

Cuddle your cute teddy-bear
Never mind he’ll suck on your blood
Cuddling him, you feel not
how life flows away from you
and dreams come through –
they infiltrate,
soak in you,
keeping you breathing, but not really alive.

Cuddle your cute nightmare
to see your blood float out of your soul
Bodies matter not,
yet we cling madly to them.
All the death in the world
cannot take you,
if your time
has not chimed.

©2013, Mariya Koleva

Between the Empty Sheets, NovPAD Day 4

November PAD Chapbook, Day 4 – Empty Sheets

waiting for death
Image by: violettQueen

Between the empty sheets of coziness
sleeps my mind-beast
hungry for comfort
and blood.

Between the wet sheets of sorrow
wiggle my poor expectation skills
struggling to break free
and shake dry.

Between the dark sheets of consciousness
sleeps death
never letting go,
ever waiting
for my faulty little step.

©2013, Mariya Koleva

When He’s Gone

Day 9, the prompt is wonderful. And I decided to take a new look at it.

Image credit: Atlas Of The Universe


When he’s gone

There is that bright universe

Where starlets never die

When he’s gone I blink, not feeling sad,

Yet feeling somehow awkward for that,

I am fulfilled

For his wish

Lies within that remote universe

While I have nothing to offer instead.

© soulmary

Creation and Death

September Heights #15 – Creation


The stiff awareness

Of blinking and swallowing

Cherry tree in bloom 


Crescent moon weeping

Sad and mournful of the time

When stars will not shine


Night in the orchard

Bats whoosh to and fro in search

They hear the future

© soulmary


Poets United, Thursday Think Tank #86 – Rebirth

Rebirth will need
a death.
last breath
given away.
first gulp
taken in thirst. 

Recreate those gloomy
pieces of my way
where I stumble
for that breath of

© 2012 Mariya Koleva

Image copied from Poets United prompt post

friday, the thirteenth – small stone

The river of stones keeps flowing:

“it is friday, the thirteenth. who can ignore it. i heard a man of power speak rubbish and felt ashamed. i cried for the girl who had died in so much suffering and pain, who had met her end in miserable solitude in the cold company of wickedness. i hardly did believe it.”

© 2012 Mariya Koleva