Poetry and Short Stories 
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Poetry on this page I set up for my friends Brian and Di Groves from Willunga, South Australia and I'll keep setting it for them and for my friends Verica and Graham Peacock from Harlow, England.
Poetry Ennobles
Every lyrical poem ennobles both author and reader. Exceptions are those ungainly formulated ‘poems’ which call to hate and intolerance, under the slogan of patriotism or even by glorification of one group of people and putting down another.
A poem is to be written or read when the heart is full of emotions. Love for a woman or a man, mother, God, beauty of nature, homeland, flower or animal, all the world – is the most common motive. The word poetry is for many people the association for love verses. However, apart from love, people are fulfilled with other emotions which ask for an affirmation. Sometimes, we are simply bonny, playful, bursting with wishes and burst out laughing. But sometimes, we feel passion, longing, sorrow, despair, loneliness. Every one of these feelings can invoke in us the aspiration to read, or maybe write, a poem, giving ourselves an outlet. A poem is some kind of vent to allow the accumulated emotions exit from a fulfilled heart and in the search for ‘victims’, these would move in.
When I set my first poetry page on the internet, I was afraid that I was alone in the world because, in times of ‘sex, drink and bloodshed, the romanticism, sentimentalism, poetry and love are badly represented in bookshops, speech, and, as I guessed, in hearts. What a mistake it was! The poetry pages soon became my most read pages. Many of the visitors come back, many copy them to their pages, forums, blogs, many save them to read them again. This is the same as with paperback books on shelves. For that reason, I'm sure, the lyrical poetry ennobles even this newest, in appearance the least human, medium, the internet, and all of us through it.
Ivica Smolec, published in The Inn Scribers Antology 2007, "Reflections And Shadows"
c Content
No Title (thinking about the war) The Very Best Coffee in My Life (short story)
Is this your scream, sir? Oh, yes, thank you, I didn't notice that I let it loose!
© Ivica Smolec, 2003
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The Winter Longing B
Again I'm sitting in Esperanto alone. Through the whirlpool of smoke Chinese lanterns are glaring, above the table mottled balloons are hanging, the faces I well know are on them.
At seven, when the orchestra utters a sound and "The Lilies' Of The Valley Time" pours out through the hall, I'll tell a story about my little flower to my glass of beer and my cup of still-hot coffee.
In my eyes there is the Chinese lanterns' shine, my heart is behind the blue mountains. In my breast, herds of wild horses are galloping searching for my native country.
© Ivica Smolec, 2003("Poems Afar", Strumica, Macedonia, The New Year Reception, 1979)A letter to Sonja)
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Made of smiles, by squeezed lips I'm shielding myself from rain. Sky is flowering inside me and countless little happinesses are making me myself. A woman was born and is living somewhere in the city. I want to find her. I know, I'll pass through some clouds of sorrow, without wandering, apace, because she's waiting for me somewhere in the city. A river has stopped and wait for the sea. From my little happinesses I'll build the most beautiful smile on her face and I'll turn her eyes to the east where the sky is burning.
© Ivica Smolec, 1973("Wind, Organ And Blood",to an unknown girl)
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Like a Black Bird
like a confused bird searching for food and water warm earth and a living grass hidden beneath the snow
like a bird which lands on your frozen window and waits and waits quietly in loneliness for crumbs of your love
like a bird longing for sun's rays it pushes itself through clenched teeth of winter through thick oppressive fog
like a bird which dreams how during warm summer evenings a happy song of life emanates from along the leaves a rapturous song of love
like a blackbird black
© Ivica Smolec, 2003(published in The Inn Scribers Antology 2007 "Reflections And Shadows", Harlow, GB, 2007)
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the address so much longing in the tremble of a pen the whole soul in the two words a thousand hills in only one breath the love will cross
© Ivica Smolec("Poems afar", Strumica, Macedonia, 1980)(A Letter To Sonja)
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look at the water look at the water water is watching you water’s alive
from the ancient water which’s rolling away from it’s dark depth reposes arrive
listen to the water listen to the water water is calling you and you’ll be lured
in the ancient water which’s rolling away you’ll find the oblivion at the bottom obscured
sense the water sense the water water is cleaning you relieving your woes
in the ancient water which’s rolling away there’s a fortune for the one who chose
© Ivica Smolec, 2004(Introduction poem from the awarded novel "Vode teku dalje" (Waters Run On), 2004)
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The War
It was just a war. An ordinary war. Like so many before.
Good people keep loving beneath the sun. Those who weren’t gone.
The evil men are hiding now waiting for their new turn. Will they never learn?
I hope their turn never comes, neither their sons’ nor their guns’.
But a new war will come. ‘Cause our cries seem mute. ‘Cause to VIPs it’s suit.
As a bee has to fly. As grass has to push its blade. As a flower has to fade.
As a cycle has to be closed. As the sun has to set and everyone will see that
before the next blind night.
© Ivica Smolec, 2005
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thinking about the war I think about a boy who lost his leg close to me on the battlefield the leg found the mine
and a tide raises my pain and a fury eclipses my brain and then I begin to cry
I who’d never trample an ant hate the beasts which made the war or any ever war on the planet preaching about an unavoidability lifting their fists and shouting let’s go standing safe behind mikes standing on both of their legs
and a tide raises my pain and a fury eclipses my brain and then I wish to die
© Ivica Smolec, 2005
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Tell Me
Would you like me to prepare dinner or to kiss you? The evening is drawing near - you will leave and I will miss you.
© Ivica Smolec, 2005(published in The Inn Scribers Antology 2007 "Reflections And Shadows", Harlow, GB, 2007;(declaimed on Radio Martin, in English and in Croatian, 2007)
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Knight of Love
He’s crucified by his passions that keep him in the sweet eternal sorrows dipped in a coctail of acid and honey, mostly too proud to discover his bubbly soul. He’s a Knight of Love. With his warm heart he atacks towards a sword until the sword bends. He’s not one of noble blood - his blood gushes red as dense as strawberry syrup. And he doesn’t have his Sancho, he’s streches his hand out like a sword of sugar, his shield a smile, and his lance a fishing rod. He tries to catch the stars riding on his dreams.
© Ivica Smolec, 2004(published in The Inn Scribers Antology 2007 "Reflections And Shadows", Harlow, GB, 2007)(introduction poem from the unpublished novel "Akvamarin" (Aquamarine)
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For My Friends Afar
In Willunga are my dear friends, seldom I find time to contact them, the life is fast and everything blends - till I write poem, Brian facets gem.
When Brian put up with a terrible heat and in his greenhouse carnivores pets, I'm frozen 'cause some awful colds beat, the wild nature our dreams always bets.
My dear and good South Australian chums, celebrating the forty years of your jointly life, till I'm waiting for my better health comes: love your Brian, Di, and, Brian, keep loving your wife!
© Ivica Smolec, Croatia(2008, to Brian and Di Groves' 40th Anniversary)
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alone
and I’m flying in circles above the asleeping lake and the moon is watching me silently and my black shadow's across the glossy water gliding
and I’m leaving out the cry of woe and despair
‘cause in the white winter night to be alone ‘cause to be alone above the waters ‘cause to be alone beneath the stars
‘cause... to be alone...
© Ivica Smolec, 2003
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Notturno
In these dead hours when fair people eden dream, a comet is rising from water not rending its peaceful gleam. The forest is black of leaves, warm 'cause of feather and fur, restrained moan is heard, the nightmare of magpie on fir.
Upwards the trees and water, moon smiles, quite still, because of his generously brush, all paths with silver fill. On his tenacious bosom, humpy hornbeam hugs a beech, with help of tiny breeze, she listens his leaves' mild speech.
This night, comfortable, soft, is petting the sleepy wood, it glued foliage by darkness, its touch on neck's so good. On doughy water, its coiffure's checking the ancient oak, slopping above the edge, dropped mellow acorn to soak.
I'm sitting leaned on the oak, with my eden dream's syndrome, wonderful forest's embracing me, I'm yearning for my faraway home.
© Ivica Smolec, July the 28th, 2008
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© Ivica Smolec, March 2008
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FOUR HAIKU ON A RAINY DAY
With the thunderbolt, a playful nature promises the rain.
A bang of shower. Hay on the medow has a warm fragrance.
Rising rainbow waked up wishes, then disappeared.
On a muddy path, in a warm puddle, a sunray.
© Ivica Smolec, January 2008(published in Haiku Magazine "Iris" Nr. 1, proofreading Elizabeth Harrison)
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© Ivica Smolec, 2009.(2.40/3.00 points on WHA Contest, March 2009., judged by Kuniharu Shimizu)
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Kiro
Kiro rolled close to me on the little wheels attached to his leg stumps. A wide smile of recognition, a bonny voice. - Hey, chief, have you got a coin for me today? - Sorry, Kiro, I’m skint today, another time! I’m hungry too, I don't even have money for a sandwich! And don’t "chief" me, I already told you that! - I exclaimed loudly through the open window of my old “Kia”, to override the traffic noises. - Listen, chief, turn into that parking area, I must tell you something important! I’d first met Kiro at that crossing and used to give him a coin through the window sometimes. I hadn’t any idea what was so important that he had to say to me, but I turned into the car park as soon as the green traffic light allow me to. He used the consecutive green light for pedestrians and rushed over the street, pushing himself on his gloved hands. Practice had given him the speed of motorised transport. He stopped close to my car, signed to me to step out and went on ahead to a wooden bench in the shade. Now I hadn’t any other choice except to follow him and sit on the bench. He pulled off his “driving” gloves and put them on the bench. Then he slipped his rucksack off his shoulder, took out half a loaf of bread and unfolded a piece of paper with some German salami. - Here, chief, be my guest today!
© Ivica Smolec, November the 23rd 2005(In Croatian printed in my book "About Love and Sadness – Poems and Stories")
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THE VERY BEST ESPRESSO COFFEE IN MY LIFE
( A long lasting memory )
I was studying last night. That’s the reason why I’m so tired and drowsy this morning. I’m looking forward to have a cup of espresso coffee in the coffee bar nearby my school, before the education begins. At the stepping out from the tramway – an outstreched hand. I’m touching four coins in my pocket, it’s all that remains of my last allowance. When I take my coffee there won’t be money for the break time sandwich. I’m separating one coin, remained three of them should be sufficient for the coffee in that other bar, not so convenient and placed rather remotely. The woman in rags is saying: “God bless you!” I’m walking towards my school and puzzling: “Maybe she is a defrauder and is exploiting easily convinced people as I am. Maybe she has more money than I have. But, maybe she hasn’t. Maybe a hungry child is waiting for her at home. Maybe my coin will provide him half a loaf of bread. And what if she has two or three children?” I’m back and shaking out all of my remaining coins on her palm. She’s watching me bashfully, speechless, she isn’t closing her hand. I’m turning my face from her and leaving, I’m shaming to wait for her thanks. I’m full of adrenaline and feeling happy. Maybe I’m double crossed, but probably I’ve just made the very best of all good deeds - helped a neighbour. So, that cup of coffee I didn’t have was the very best espresso coffee in my life.
© Ivica Smolec, Springtime 2005.(In Croatian printed in my book "About Love and Sadness – Poems and Stories")
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