A BAD MERCHANT

A BAD MERCHANT

I was a little when they showed me,

the greatest treasure, showed it and took it away

and then buried it with you.

You don't hear me when I speak with words,

you don't hear me when I speak with a cry

now I know, that for a long, long time,

you will bear my silences and you will hear them.

There is no trade with conscience,

I am a bad merchant, and what was I looking for?

Unconditional love, and before all of that

and much, much more, more than life,

I looked for unconditional trust.

As compensation, I don't want to buy a dog,

because once upon a time,

yes, I was a little girl,

someone showed me the greatest treasure

and then buried it with you.

CONFESSION

The radius of movement is reduced to the narrow space

in which I have been staying for a long time,

I give my thoughts to others,

to keep them for me,

like a spindle,

the images from the past turn,

the betrayal that hurts like a purple - red bite,

which took away my entire heart,

I assemble a mosaic of colorful cubes,

which I collect along the way.

AND MAYBE JUST ....

In the suburbs of mind stacked

or in the mess scattered around

words, thoughts, all sparkles

which fire could be,

now quenched with a cold breath,

far from the people, I don't know you,

I wander through the maze of your despair,

because the human mind is a mystery

full of hidden drawers, which maybe

only love can open.

FROM THIS POINT OF MY EXISTENCE

I'm getting to the stage

when reality mixes with illusions

creating a visible atmosphere

of sweet but certain decay,

at this point, when I look at myself

I see the cosmos of my youth,

which has accumulated over the years

to a minimalist aspiration

of necessary existence.

REQUIEM FOR MY SOUL

All you people here

who are still rolling in the mud

want to drag me into your story,

so that I too can be like the others!!!!!

No never!!!!!

To disappear in a lonely wandering

to escape the framework of reality

to seek my day

in someone else's smile,

to fill my calendar

with colorful leaves and rainbows,

to tell a new story,

I play "Requiem for Dreams"

and I don't care about the rest of the world.

Tamara Pantović is a Montenegrin archaeologist, poet and essayist. She was born in Kotor, grew up in Herceg Novi (Grbić family), and today lives and creates in Berane. Her work represents a combination of scientific discipline and deep, introspective literature.