Small Child
Small child
with my eyes
return my heart before you wander.
Take the jewels.
I wish you plenty.
Place a flower’s petals gently.
Break a toy but not intently.
Sing once
through my eyes,
calmest cataclysm of passion;
only please return my heart
before you wander,
although I could not bear accept it,
small child
with my eyes.
Battle Scars
As soldiers both we’d seen impressive scars
our brethren sported, casual and proud,
paraded in hot weather through the bars.
You’d nod respect but never ask aloud.
The day your hand touched mine in mute appeal
my breathing tripped on questions in your eyes.
I answered there and then. We would reveal
much more than marks. We’d drop our alibis.
The anger wasn’t lightly overcome.
It clung as ever to the guarded truth.
We marched in step to that insidious drum
familiar as a jagged broken tooth.
We struggle now, to say just what we mean
and stumble where the wounds remain unseen.
Originally published by The Orchards Poetry Journal
Vera Ignatowitsch loves poetry and has been writing it for decades; however, she only recently began submitting poems for publication. Her poetry has since appeared in two anthologies and literary journals which include The Lyric, The New Verse News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Light: a Journal of Photography & Poetry, Poets Reading the News, San Pedro River Review, Raintown Review, The Road Not Taken, I Am Not A Silent Poet, and Tuck Magazine. She is also the editor-in-chief of Better Than Starbucks.