Thursday, September 29, 2011


When you died,
for several days the very depth of my eyes
was haunted by a dove,
white, restless, easily frightened.
No sooner did I catch a glimpse of it,
than it took wing, fluttered away,
and disappeared into the grayish twilight.
But my heart knew: It's you. Your soul.

And it was good, that sad yet radiant knowledge.
Autumn can be at times like that:
the quiet light, transformed to wisdom,
holds up to earth a sky wide open,
just like a mirror. And you can see the most minute
bud of emotion, quivering in your soul.
All is so clear it hurts:
the sky, the earth
and you yourself, lost in between,
yes, even death.

What you were I know and never shall forget:
A dove. White, easily frightened.

Jurgis Blekaitis

(1917 � 1997) ©


Saturday, September 24, 2011

My Better Half

I want to compliment my wife
Whose kindnesses, have charmed my life
And though her patience I have tried
Yet, much on her, I have relied.

Many is the time when I needed talk
We two would wander, for a walk
And as I opened my heart to her
She'd disagree, perhaps concur.

Argument’s, our bond did strengthen
And now, as shadows start to lengthen
I think I must, bespeak my love
And laud thee as, my treasure trove.

In silence I, my wife have cherished
And failing her, could well have perished
She's been my sustenance, my pride
A golden girl there by my side.

So darling, speak I now at last
In tribute to our precious past
I know we have a future too
For without you, what would I do.

Eric Valentine Feb ©