MY LONELY HANDS

My hands,

feeling lonely,

yearn for

the company

of your breasts.

05.02.2026

MY HUNGRY

My mouth,

my hungry mouth,

yearns to feel

your nipples

on its lips,

to suck them,

to lick them

with its tongue,

biting them

with its teeth

to satisfy

its hunger.

05.02.2026

NETANYAHU'S ELITE BRIGADE AT WORK

Yesterday Israel murdered 25

people, including eight children,

in occupied Palestine's Gaza,

today Western journalists

buried them nameless

in an unmarked mass grave

without ceremony.

05.02.2026

THE PYRAMIDS AT GIZA

The dead kings

built the pyramids

to hide their corpses

in eternal rest, stone

engines of resurrection,

of immortality,

and now not even

dust remains of the kings,

yet the engines

of immortality,

without resurrection,

convey their memory.

But nameless go

the hands that

quarried and fit

stone to stone.

03.02.2026

ON THE 34TH DAY OF THE YEAR

Often you can't 

read more 

than a few lines

of a poem

without wanting 

to write one;

in protest,

admiration,

inspiration

or plagiarism

of message

if not form.

03.02.2026

HOPE FOR MEETING OUR LOST LOVED ONES AGAIN

On a distant shore,

after crossing the separating ocean,

on a far distant green isle

where the spirits dwell

of those who sailed away

in years gone

by, to meet them again,

rejoining what was broken,

in love beyond life

embracing.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse  Poem Poems Poetry Verse

ON THE 24TH DAY OF THE YEAR

Twelve degrees below zero,

cloudy, twenty-five minutes

to three in the morning,

awake in the landscape

of your life, long vistas

expanding back in time,

but no paths to walk them,

to go travel backwards

from this moment

to those valleys in time's

geography where they still

live and you, half someone

else, half the one you are now,

in this moment being carried

farther and farther from them.

24.01.-02.02.2026

PALESTINE, WESTERN SAHARA AND ESTONIA'S KAJA KALLAS

If an Estonian is freed 

from Soviet occupation,

soon the Estonian 

is going around the world

helping military occupations

and illegal annexations 

of occupied nations.

30.01.2026

THERE WILL BE A FUTURE FOR HUMANITY

If there's a future,

it's a future humanity has won

from the grip of our elites,

banishing them from power,

excluding them from existence

in the name of the common good,

and there's no future

for humanity

in which they have won.

They bring only death

and destruction

and an end for everything.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse  Poem Poems Poetry Verse

COLDEST NIGHT II

Driven by joyful desire,

my flesh burns

as the night

blazes cold.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

COLDEST NIGHT III

Overwhelming lust

keeps me burning

through the freezing cold

the deepest winter days.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

COLDEST NIGHT I

Coldest night 

of the winter

and I'm burning

from desire.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

THERE'S A ROSE WAITING TO BLOOM

There's a rose waiting to bloom,

uncovered with caresses,

to be addressed with kisses,

there's a rose waiting to bloom

and meet his bee.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

ON THE 33RD DAY OF THE YEAR

Bright, cold hours

passing in fitful sleep,

getting up to make sure

the water flows, 

before going under

the spell of sleep,

setting the alarm

for another wakening

to fight the freeze,

this twelve hours,

then dark, cold hours

but in them

the burning remembrance

of the joy of last night,

the words, the verses

it begets.

02.02.2026

SOMEONE NEEDS TO BUILD A TIME MACHINE TO FIX THIS

The world went wrong in 1985.

In Science Fiction circles

they call that 'a Jonbar Point',

where timeline can be altered

to bring an utterly different future.

Instead of Gorbachev gaining

power to lose the Cold War

and the USSR, we could have had

some hardliner, and then

the Cold War would continue,

the United States

wouldn't be defecating

and urinating upon the entire planet,

it would be contained,

we would be winning the fight

against Global Warming,

welfare states would still prosper,

and the humanity wouldn't be

looking at an abyss,

with billionaires trying

to push over the edge.

Someone needs to build

a time machine to fix this.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse #Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

THIS IS NOT NORMAL, BUT THIS IS CONSIDERED TO BE THE CORRECT POSITION BY OUR RULERS AND THEIR PRESS

So many supposed human beings

have been shouting for years

If you oppose Genocide,

you support Holocaust!

while others have gone

for Genocide denial, claiming

Victims of Holocaust

can't commit Genocide!

While the Genocide goes on,

the genocide they support.

02.02.2026

Poem Poems Poetry Verse #Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

GET RID OF THEM, FOR HUMANITY'S SAKE

Deep cold

for days now

and you know

it's driven by

Global Warming

and the deniers

claim there can't be

Climate Change

because it's cold

when scientists

have warned 

decades and decades

that this is how

it would be,

long summers 

of hot drought,

winters of deep cold,

and through these

cold days

the politicians and the press,

serving their rich masters,

are doing their worst

to ensure

our erasure

as a species

from the planet

they are defiling.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

HOW MANY WAYS?

How many ways there are
to take knickers off
from a lovely shape?

With his hands slowly,

kissing revealed flesh

with every downward movement,

a long playful game

of revealing

the sweet hidden rose,

or with his teeth, awkwardly,

putting in the effort

while she laughs,

and with the desperate movements

of one who needs to feast

on the glory they hint and hide,

hardly knowing what

one does, consumed by desire,

knickers flying off

from trembling, lustful hands

for fingers and mouth

and his aching shaft.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

SEEING HER GIFT

The first feeling was amazement

that burst outwards like the shell

of a star exploding as a supernova

while the core of feelings collapsed

into a massive neutron star of desire

inside a nebula of lust.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse Poem Poems Poetry Verse 

AS HE GAZED

Only later would he think

"Those knickers need to go"

because just now

they were perfect

in their invitation

to step outside the moment

he had existed in,

the bleak, cold winter night,

perfect in their invitation

to dream and imagine,

to be lustful and romantic

and horny, possibilities

expanding in vivid visions

in his mind as he gazed.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

SURPRISED WITH JOY

Coming up cold from the basement

and then finding your gaze

filled with enticing beauty -

what were the words of C. S. Lewis?

Surprised with joy.

All joy comes from the same

inner human spring of emotion,

earthly or divine love is pure

in all its forms, fresh

from your innermost source.

Surprised with joy

budding, blooming, bursting out

to fill one's very being,

clearing out all the taint

and becoming you.

02.02.2026

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

LET THEM BE

You have written enough,

etched a few verses into

time tonight.

Let them be, let them be - 

you gave the words their place,

now let the verses be.

01.02.2026

IF THE FLESH IS CUT

Words, words -

one is made of words

on days like this,

if the flesh is cut,

it would bleed ink.

01.02.2026

DROP THE PEN

Enough writing,

drop the pen

and let her

pick it up,

your hands

on her hips.

01.02.2026

THE WINTRY MOON

Silver disk

of the Moon,

coldly, coldly

burning in the gaze

that caresses.

01.02.2026

HANDING IT BACK TO THE DINOSAURS

The ape sits inside

in the glowing light,

the dinosaurs outside

shiver in the dark,

but the ape that makes

the planet go haywire

might end handing

it back to the dinosaurs.

01.02.2026

BUILD ON FIRM GROUND

Future is built

on the crumbling past,

on the quicksand of today -

until we build

on the firm ground

of humane civilization.

01.02.2026

FROM WRITING TO READING

I could write

all evening

and through the night,

but perhaps it's better

to put the figurative pen aside

and pick up a book

and travel far,

for better minds than mine

have written 

through their whole lives

to give my mind

free travel tickets to their worlds.

01.02.2026

INTERNET HAIKU

The search engine tells me

I must be looking for a bison,

but I'm just looking for Buson.

01.02.2026

THE FIRST BLUE FLOWERS

Seven hours and thirty-nine minutes,

that was the length

of the day today,

tomorrow it will be

a few minutes more,

and as the days go by,

one after another

adding and adding,

cumulating light,

one day awakening

it will be spring,

the melting snow,

the thawing land

bringing mud and pools,

the remains of the summer,

what is left of the autumn,

the first winged songs

and the long rainy days,

the Sun clearing clouds

magnificent up high,

and the first little blue flowers.

01.02.2026

READING BUSON

Buson, what

would a freezing winter night

like this

have evoked in you,

or would you have turned

to your master,

Bashõ, to hear his voice,

like I turn to you

reading your haikus

as the winter night

crackles in the darkness

around my flickering light.

01.02.2026

BUT THE SELFISH MOMENTS

You must give

what people need,

not what you want

to give them,

he says to himself -

    

but the selfish moments,

they come to him

like rogue waves

across the oceans,

he says to himself,

forgetting that

us human beings

are not the boats

facing the waves,

but the ocean.

01.02.2026

BUT OF THE MAN HIMSELF I CAN SAY LITTLE

I have a raw translation

of one of the average

poems of Wystan Hugh Auden,

Oxford, waiting polishing,

jagged lines, stumbling

word choices needing

turning into a resemblance of verse,

but of the man

himself I notice I can say little;

that crossing of the Atlantic

on the eve of war -

what I can say when wars

will still follow people

the rest of their lives?

01.02.2026

THE MILK HAVING RUN OUT

The milk having

run out

I drink coffee

black as the night outside,

warm as the desire

her gifts have

awakened

in my loins.

01.02.2026

THE DARK HOURS BRIGHTENED

The evening

goes fast

writing,

the dark hours

brightened

by the wild

imagination

fed by desire

aroused

by her gifts,

her herself,

his gracious muse.

01.02.2026

TO HIS FAIR MUSE

I yearn to lick

your pussy,

to find out

how you

taste,

and what

words of love

you speak 

with your tongue 

as mine

speaks its own

to you.

01.02.2026

THE MINDS OF THOSE WHO WRITE

Without a spring

feeding it

the fountain runs dry,

and so is with

the minds of those

who try to write.

My fountain

is filled to the brim

today from her spring.

01.02.2026

I HEAR THE WIND

The clear, cold day

was silence

in these rooms,

now in the evening

I hear the wind

out in the darkness.

01.02.2026

AS IN AWAKENING

I tried to sleep,

ended up

writing poems,

and dreams

would have lasted

almost as long

as these poems

I now let go,

as in awakening.

01.02.2026

BUSON AT WORK

Few strokes

of the brush,

a figure,

and then

few more

strokes,

and words

emerge to form

a poem.

01.02.2026

ON THE 22ND DAY OF THE YEAR

I swam naked in the cool waters

of the late, dying summer

imagining you gliding

beside, sitting

on the pier, watching,

listening to the birds leaving

as the darkling waves

came in the fading light.

22.01.2026

TO EXOISE

I have always

had an overly wild

imagination,

but never

like this,

never like this.

01.02.2026

A FRAGMENT

In the crisp wind

blowing from the north 

the first hint

of the withering

of the world.

24.01.-01.02.2026

BUSON II

In the black

liquid meeting

of the brush

and the scroll,

the artist.

01.02.2026

BUSON I

The brush,

the scroll,

in their

meeting

ink creates

the artist.

01.02.2026

HALF PAST FIVE IN THE EVENING

Half past five

in the evening,

still enough light

outside

to see your way

across the room

to switch

the lights on.

01.02.2026

NOT QUITE ENLIGHTENMENT, YET...

The revelation

of the permanent

in the transient,

in the experience

that becomes you

even when you

have forgotten.

01.02.2026

BUSON'S HAIKU

The ordinary

becomes

exceptional

and stays

what it was,

extraordinary.

01.02.2026

BUSON'S HAIGA

The brush,

the scroll,

the words

and the image,

and in them,

the artist,

his essence.

01.02.2026

TO MY YEARNING HANDS

Gazing at you

suddenly I

wonder

how your buttocks

would feel

against my hands

as I would

embrace you

and hoist you up,

carry you

around the room

where you are,

just because

I want

to feel you

pressed against me,

know how your

buttocks feel

to my yearning hands.

01.02.2026

IF YOU DON'T LOWER YOUR GAZE

Soft, dark blue

sky past five

in the afternoon,

you could

almost believe

it's a spring evening

if you don't

lower your gaze

to see the snow-covered land.

01.02.2026

ON THE 31ST DAY OF THE YEAR

Awful days,

but the worse thing is

you forgot the people

who can make them good.

31.01.2026

BUSON AND THE NARROW ROAD TO THE DEEP NORTH

You travel following

the footsteps of your

heroes,

but you never

caught up with them,

you only find

their absence.

01.02.2926

READING YOUR NAMESAKE

"A naked mountain",

the poet writes

and I think of you

proud and beautiful,

your curves

rising to the peak

of your face

and I imagine

kissing those lips,

my tongue

against yours,

one hand wrapped

around you,

the other

between your

naked thighs,

climbing.

01.02 2026

FROM YOUR NEST

The birds

in the nest

on the door

that never

opens to them

fly

from it

into the blue -

your winged

gifts to the world,

like those

you have granted

me.

01.02.2026

ON THE 32ND DAY OF THE YEAR

First February

afternoon, deep freeze

makes clear skies,

the light

lasts longer

upon thoughts.

01.02.2026

TEN YEARS BEFORE THE WALLS OF TROY

Ten years before the walls of Troy

you stood and killed,

and then the city burns,

and you sail home

with whatever you plundered

and whoever you enslaved

to the rest of your life

to be lived

in the shadow of the walls of Troy,

and there will be some drama

when you are back at home

in midst of strangers,

amidst strife of old grudges

and new; a chorus will

sing your coming doom,

and then a knife or sword

or poison shall be wielded

to bring an appropriate end

that might as well arrived

while you stood ten years

before the walls of Troy 

and killed.

And then in the Hades

you are a shadow among

shadows standing

before the walls of Troy.

01.02.2026

ON THE 28TH DAY OF THE YEAR

People who commit genocide,

people who support genocide,

people who ignore genocide

they are all today commemorating a genocide,

they are all today telling how terrible thing is a genocide,

they are all today telling "Never Again!" a genocide

which they don't conmmit themselves,

which they don't support themselves,

which they don't ignore themselves.

28.01.2026

ZIONISTS

You have committed a genocide

and you celebrate it,

you mock the murdered,

you mock the survivors,

and you declare

that no one can criticize the genocide,

that no can be allowed to oppose

you, the genocidaires.

That you do whatever you want

because who you are.

And you expect

and you demand

that all still mourn a genocide

that ended over eighty years ago,

genocide which according to you

gives you the 'right' to commit this genocide,

which must be praised

because you did it.

You want to be genocidaires

and you want to be genocide survivors,

and one can't be both.

Which leaves you being genodidaires.

26.01.2026

COMPARE

A thousand people or more dead

in the fighting in Rojava

and those who lament the slaughter

of protestors in Iran

look away, waiting

for the United States

to bomb Iran for Shah's son

and Israel, as a Kurdish dream

dies in yet another

American betrayal,

in yet another

European silence.

24.01.2026

ALTERNATE EVOLUTION

Translating you see the possible paths

the poem could have taken

and while staying on the true path

for the translation,

you also take an another path

and walk it to a homage

that can go no farther

than where that path ends,

or a poem that might have

enough wings if not to fly

then to glide past

where that path ends,

leaving you behind.

23.01.2026

YOU CAN FIND JOY IN LITTLE THINGS

You can find joy in little things,

the first Paranthropus found in Afar

extending the hominid's range,

that you walked to the mailbox and back

today, picking up a new bank card,

that the walk evoked vague memories

of other winter days that no photograph

had captured and were until now lost,

that you told a few people what Prabowo

did in East Timor when you yourself

still hadn't learned to read or write,

that you lived to write these lines,

and that after the last word and the dot

you will get up and make coffee

and start translating Yeats

and that in the endlessly branching

multiverse billions and trillions of you

will live to get the Yeats done.

23.01.2026