Three Poems by Francisc Edmund Balogh

 

Silenced 

 

I buried  

the poem that I had written for you  

as If I was burying a beautiful  

little bird 

silenced by a slingshot, 

by the careless fist of destiny’s 

hand... 

I buried it 

under the first layer of wintery 

silence, 

under the moon rock heavy burden 

of the seasons going by. 

The dark, star filled sky 

was my witness, my only relative, 

to whom I could confess, 

the wilderness was all around  

open as an abyss, 

each of my breath was tightrope 

balancing on the abyss edges, 

at one end the twilight,  

at the other end the dawn. 

I buried  

the after silence- 

the sharpest edge 

of the poem I had written  

for you.

 

 

Loneliness ended up in the city  

 

The walls were looking at you 

with their unidentifiable, shy, hurt 

beast of the forest eyes, 

that once you fed  

from the purity of your youth, 

you felt they wished to caress you- 

their long time, childhood 

companion 

when both of you were so light  

and easy  

as the spirit of the spring. 

You grew up together  

as brothers of the same bloodline,  

children of the same father, 

Time. 

Those walls saddened,  

longing for you -  

now, a lost member of a lost tribe, 

dislocated creature   

of a torn down home, forest,  

that ever since  

cannot find its place in the world, 

ended up  in the city,  

sad on the inside,  

smiling on the outside  

as a circus animal performing  

for applauses that cannot take away  

the insatiable hunger  

of the loss. 

Loneliness ended up  

as a circus animal in the city 

where he can trust only his mirror.

 

 

Sunday afternoon  

 

You sipped  

from your coffee  

the blue of the sky 

brushed smoothly by 

the flight of a white dove, 

the gentle caress  

of the foamy waves 

over your playful steps, 

the over ripen peach flavour 

of the sun melted dreams  

of the city, 

you sipped from your coffee 

a break in the flow of time, 

so badly sought after 

by all, by philosophers, 

you sipped from your coffee 

the melancholy  

of an un-kissed afternoon, 

you sipped  

in the cool shade of your verses 

that filed the space like  

climbing plants, 

in the background 

minimalistic jazz tunes-  

butterflies of the void.

Francisc Edmund Balogh  is a Romanian poet and musician residing in  the UK. He works as teaching assistant in London. He writes mainly in Romanian and English and occasionally in Spanish and Hungarian.

In the last 3 years, his writing peaked as he received  3 international prizes: 1st place at “L'Olimpiade Mondiaux de Poesie” contest, 2020-2021, organized by World Poets Association, The best foreign author at the 2022,  “I COLORI DELL’ANIMA” contest, organized in Italy and The best poem at Cultural Fiesta’s cultural group "Days turn into night" poetry competition 2024 from India. Two of Francisc’s poems were published on the award winning french litterary blog „ Lettres Capitales”, published in the "Vort Vergessen anthology from Germany and in the "Azahar" Spanish language magazine. Also, two of Francisc’s works were published in the “World Poetry Tree” a contemporary anthology including poets from 105 countries, presented at World Expo Dubai 2020.