КОГАТО СЛЪНЧОГЛЕДИТЕ ИЗПРАВЯТ ГЛАВИ

Безкрайните жълти полета от цъфнали слънчогледи са като покана за полет и за вдъхновение. Те са като отражение на слънцето, като материализирана безгранична вяра и оптимизъм. Жълтото говори толкова силно, че аз се покорявам без колебание. Слънчогледите са навели главите си надолу, но не като знак за послушание и подчинение.

Когато слънчогледите наведат глави, това е защото те не могат да понесат тежестта на слънцето, което носят в себе си. Това е защото никой жив не може да понесе погледа на слънчогледа, излъчващ слънцето. Никой смъртен не може да издържи да гледа директно в очите малкото слънчогледово слънце. Когато слънчогледите наведат глави, това е не защото те са покорени и победени, а защото те са пълни с любов и милост към ближния. Милост да не го изпепелят, а да го предпазят и той да остане жив.

Аз съм биологично състояние, отворено към новото, различното, към промяната, отворено към любовта във всичките ѝ прояви. Но аз съм и свободна от всичко това. Аз съм готова да започна отначало, готова да отразя слънчевите жълти полета, които ще разсеят мрака в мен.

Ти ми казваш, че аз съм вече завършена и че няма надежда за мен. Ти се опитваш да ми внушиш, че съм завършена погрешно, така че да се впиша само в твоя свят, където ти си господарят. Ти ми казваш, че всичко в мен е вече приключило и не е възможно да бъде развито в посока, която да води до моето освобождение. Според теб ти не виждаш за мен посока на развитие, която да води до моята свобода. И ти наричаш това любов.

Ти искаш да ми внушиш това, за да завися от теб във всичко. Да зависят от теб моята болка, моето страдание, моята радост и надеждите ми. Ти искаш да си мисля, че съм пречупена и че само ти можеш да ме научиш как да бъда отново цяла и независима. Защото това е, което аз искам – да бъда цяла и независима. Да бъда като бял лист, на който да мога да напиша своя живот отново. Да бъда като слънчоглед с изправена глава.

SPACE

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

When you look at the night sky, what do you see?

Stars upon stars,

Suns upon suns,

Galaxies, black holes, the solar systems,

Mercury, Venus,

Earth and Mars,

I can guarantee,

That you already know the rest!

Though it may seem queer,

I think I can trust,

To tell you that we’re made of star dust.

Loads and loads of years ago,

When we had just started to grow,

The star dust started to flow,

Through our blood.

Making us good,

Clever, kind, and happy.

EASTER

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

E- Everything is growing, without any reasons,

A-After the hard, wet, cold seasons.

S- Spring is in the air,

T- Together say a prayer,

E- Everyone, pray for your friends.

R- Remember to be kind and nice,

MIDNIGHT PARTY

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

When midnight strikes,

The house is eerily silent.

My tin soldiers begin to stir,

And my stuffed white cat starts to

Purr,

O, the toy dollies,

With trollies and trollies

Of food.

They creep downstairs,

Along with the toy bears,

They choose a table,

And soon they’re hardly able,

To stand from all the food!

GOOD HEARTS

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Underneath the Christmas tree,

I saw a young lad, who was three,

He opened his present,

Which was very pleasant,

I am sure you will agree.

His name was Paul,

He’d received a ball,

But he groaned and groaned,

And he moaned and moaned,

Because, alas, the ball was too small.

A girl in the corner,

Received a Transformer,

But she cried and cried,

And sighed and sighed,

Alas, the toy was not right for her.

Then they saw,

On the floor,

A scruffy young girl,

Who was named Pearl,

She had no present and she was only four.

CHRISTMAS

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

C - Church bells ringing.

H - Hugs all round for everyone.

R - Reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh.

I - Interesting presents.

S - Season’s Greetings, everybody.

T - The tree packed with garlands.

M - Mistletoe hanging all around.

A - All ready for a

S - SNOWBALL FIGHT?

(Emma Dimitrova (my 10 year old daughter), 11/11/2018)

HIPPOCRATIC OATH

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Hippocrates, Hippocrates,

Good old Hippocrates,

The father of medicine, and such.

The medicines!

Oh! There’s so much!

Antibiotics, Paracetamol,

And lots more,

I’m sure.

QUIET

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Snore,

No more,

I’m telling you brother,

It’s such a bother!

There’s lots of dreams for you to dream,

Football, Rugby, Cricket teams,

Beautiful dresses with splitting seams.

So, I suggest

HALLOWEEN

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Trick or Treat

On the street,

Witches, Wizards,

Sun or Blizzards,

Pirates, a Ghost,

Jam on Toast,

Zombies, Skeletons,

Daughters and Sons,

Fright Queens, Mummies,

Sweets in our tummies,

Chocolate bars,

Little blue toy cars,

Jack-O-Lanterns,

Spooky Phantoms.

PRESENTS

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

It’s one of them Christmas eves,

When Santa heaves,

All those presents kids love

Gloves,

and hats,

pats from plush cats,

wooden airplanes,

Some of Rudolph’s reins.

CURRY

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Most mums don’t like tricky sums,

But my mum does.

Most dads like sipping beer,

But mine prefers skipping.

But as for me,

O, don’t you worry,

Just you wait and see,

PERFECT

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

No one’s perfect,

Not on every subject.

You want to be perfect;

You want respect.

You might be great at Maths,

English – too,

Might be rubbish at Art,

Although you’re smart.

Perfection steals your joy,

And everything you’ve got.

It will annoy

You a lot.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

However old you are,

Whether or not you drive a car,

Born at daytime or even night,

These who are tall, or lack in height.

Today's the day,

To wash your worries away.

Today you're full of joy,

Perhaps you've received a favourite toy.

Now is the time to celebrate!

There's your yummy cake, sitting on a plate.

Then, the party that follows,

Is sure to erase all your sorrows.

MORNING RUSH

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

It’s the first day of school,

After the holidays.

And I am late,

It isn’t great.

Pulling up my socks,

Toast in my hand,

I’ve woken up later than I’d planned.

Brushing my hair,

Revising for my test,

Thinking very hard cause’ I know it’s best.

Mum and dad are rushing, too.

Crunching apples,

And shouting, after you!

Running up the stairs,

Running down again.

It’s chaos, but nobody cares.

IF I WAS A WIZARD

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

If I was a wizard,

I would conjure a blizzard,

So, we can play in the snow,

Or talk to a crow.

I could make a blue fire,

I could fly, getting higher and higher,

I would be able to make it dark or light,

I would change it from day to night.

MY LITTLE FRIEND

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

I know a little bird,

Who sings so nice it can be heard,

Miles and miles and miles away,

He stays with me every day.

In the winter when I go out to see him,

The chances are pretty slim;

That he won’t be there,

Singing in the cold, frosty air.

He ignores the biting cold,

And with his heart of pure gold,

He sings a tune,

About winter ending soon.

THE CHAOS QUEEN

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

Hair on the floor,

A crown on my head,

Pictures on the door,

Clothes on the bed.

Books on the table,

Making it quite unstable,

Apples cores in the corner.

My friend comes in,

But I have to warn her,

To go to Berlin,

To escape her sin,

Of getting lost in the rubbish bin!

DANGER! WAR!

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

The deadly bomb aiming

Splashing onto the shore,

Like children paddling.

Beware!

The heavy, bulky gas-mask aiding,

Saving millions of lives,

Like a doctor in a critical situation.

Hoping!

The enormous tank towering.

Shooting at the enemy,

Like a watchful spy.

Caution!

THE UNLUCKY SAILOR

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

There once was a sailor who was very sick,

Because he swallowed a pointy stick,

Which went down his neck,

He simply couldn’t get back onto deck,

Poor old, poor old Nick.

When the ship arrived at the harbour,

He met a barber,

Who offered help.

But Nick gave a yelp,

So, he went to an archer.

The archer was called Mark,

In his shop it was very dark,

Mark handed Nick a bow,

Which Nick dropped on his toe,

So, he went to a lady called Clarke.

FRIENDS

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

When you’ve got a friend,

You’ll always lend

A helping hand.

They’ll be sure to give you a smile,

Every day when you walk a mile.

You keep our memories in your heart,

Such as enjoying some pretty art.

We’ve been together day after day,

Spring,

Summer, when we both play.

Why not listen to nightingales sing?

Because soon comes…

Autumn,

THE MAGIC GARDEN

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

I know a place,

That you can’t replace.

Now see what things are done,

In my garden.

During winter it’s cold,

But behold!

The beauty’s still there,

In the fresh misty air.

Look out, and you’ll see a snout,

Poking out,

It’s a squirrel!

The wind will rattle,

The trees, sending them on a battle,

Against each other.

When it’s spring,

I like to sing,

And the garden sings back.

I might hear a ‘quack!’,

From a baby duck,

So, I wish it luck,

And send it on its way.

BIRD CHOIR

 (a poem by 10 year old Emma)

What is that sound,

That I can hear?

It isn’t a hound,

Or a deer.

It’s a beautiful song that fills the air,

That you simply cannot compare,

To any sound in the world!

It must be the Choir of Birds.

They sing about hope, love, peace and joy,

Though they sing without any words,

It’s so pretty and graceful in every single way.

MUM

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

I’m the luckiest person in the world,

I’m not sure I even deserve,

Such a wonderful mother like you.

You hugged me when the world was new,

I hugged you back when I was two.

You taught me how to read and write,

You tucked me into bed at night.

Your tasty food fed me well,

So that I hardly ever fell.

RAINY DAY

  (a poem by 10 year old Emma)

It’s a typical British rainy day,

When sheep eat lots of hay,

When chickens lay eggs,

When children hang their coats on their pegs.

Sipping tea,

With a book on my knee,

All about some bloke, a liar,

Whilst huddling up to the fire.

THE OLD HOUSE

  (a poem by 10 year old Emma)

In an old house, on an old road,

Where secrets are bestowed,

Where memories are treasured,

Where families have entered.

The house is not just metal and stone,

But knowledge and emotions,

Deep, like the oceans,

Full of what there is to be known.