Poems
Mykyta Ryzhykh is a poet from Ukraine. Winner of the international competition ‘Art Against Drugs’, bronze medalist of the festival Chestnut House, laureate of the literary competition named after Tyutyunnik. Nominated for Pushcart Prize. The poet’s poems have been published in magazines and on the portals Soloneba, Littsentr, in the Ukrainian Literary Gazette, Bukovynsky Journal, in Stone Poetry Journal (USA), Tipton Poetry Journal (USA), divot poetry journal (USA), Alternate Route (07/2022, USA), dyst journal (USA), Better Than Starbucks Poetry & Fiction Journal (USA), Allegro Poetry Magazine (USA), Littoral Press (UK).
***
Brown town
Like a needle
Brown town
Like a need
Here people sit around
Clay figure
Here people are sitting inside
Clay figure
*
Night city seeks protection in the sun
City (not) says:
(Silence)
It’s raining
/ /
(Devastation)
White men and black guns
Bullets are ringing:
Skr dzg jz
People die:
Quiet
Quiet
*
diaphragms of misfortune
compliments of the device
torn tongue bites the tongue
the word touches a deaf ear
a man stands by the old cemetery
and does not know what to say
*
ruins speak the language of stones
we are all giant boulders
beside the eternal river of silence
*
the temple stands opposite the garden
a hundred-hundred-meter garden opposite the temple
Reprint by: https://www.zvonainari.hr/single-post/mykyta-ryzhykh-language-of-stones
***
birds come home from
paradise and sing songs
the silence recedes
*
the fields
what’s lurking out there
nothing
It’s been a month of war
*
what the tear hides
spring is playing hide and seek
а winter feeling creeps into my heart
а tear freezes and doesn’t dry up
inside the child the wizard dies
and becomes an adult
***
lump in spring throat
can’t hear the singing of the nightingale
vacuum of nature
*
absolute evil
when he stepped into the woods
on the rustle of leaves
color of ripe amber
*
While Judas is still killed —
Evil triumphs.
***
This poem smells blue
| | |
The color of wrinkles in the sky
¶
Black shapes in clear water
∆
This verse will be picked up by crows in the morning
And they will be thrown from heaven
On icy concrete heart rocks
~
All in vain
.
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