11 Apr 2021

Author: Dimitar Dimitroff


I Have Been Waiting 

I wrote this poem in a moment of emotional numbness and exhaustion. In a desperate attempt to recharge my battery, I spoke. I spoke to all the things that can melt away the ice; that can be my July morning in the chilly night of March. I spoke.


Poetry Is Life 

Poetry is like bread – it needs flour and yeast. If you want to turn the words into something bigger, more palpable, divine, you need to use a special thing – emotions, real and ocean deep. This is what breathes life in a verse.


I’ve Lost a Dream 

Not every day we can be strong and tenacious, knowing what lies ahead. When dreams are all we have, it’s hard to swallow even one of them being eaten and devoured by unfulfilled longings. Then it hurts, but the pain is temporary… as is life.


Black Kiss 

When writing this poem, I was thinking about the kiss between the ocean and the horizon when the sun goes down and darkness creeps out and engulfs everything.Then, at this moment, the water and the sky kiss each other until they become one entity – black and deep.



Even if we don’t want to, we often linger in the past. These are dark times full of shadows and ghosts – of things that were, that could have happened or just lies. But if your heart is pure and honest, it could be your protection. The clouds disperse and you see the sun again.


Don’t Promise 

In summer, promises come easily to one’s heart, and the nights seem so long and young. They smell of love and innocence. But when the winds start blowing and howling and the night shows its teeth, promises can break as easily as glass. And amidst the shards, we see the snow washing away with its white everything that reminded us of summer.


Autumn Mists 

There are days and days: some we never remember, others we never forget. And often in the mists of autumn, we take out these hidden treasures, these days of sunny pleasure, days of glory and dandelion wine, when we dreamt and roamed the skies. When nothing was impossible and we could outrun the winds. Let’s remember.


When the World Starts 

If you are looking for a good Monday read or just want to kill some time, perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong thing to look at. In this essay expect nothing but brutal honesty and man-to-man revelations that might sour your coffee. Who was there when your world began crumbling down? Who will be the next time it happens? Read and you may find an answer.