Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest by Martin Boško 

#Book Review
Poetry | Love | Emotions | Mythology

Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest is a collection of admirably written poems by Martin Boško. It takes you on a journey inspired by Greek mythology while also tugging on the heartstrings with feelings of love, betrayal, and longing.

This book is a collection of poems assembled by the author through one calendar year. The use of imagery, powerful expressions, and moving poems give us an insight into the inner workings of the poet’s mind. The author has shared some of his most intimate moments, emotions, and intentions that make each of his poems memorable. The rhyming nature of the poems was an absolute delight to read and made me want to keep going on and on for more.

When sadness comes as a raging river
I reach into my trusty quiver
To pull out the Arrow made of honey
And heal the wounds that are fresh and bloody.

– Martin Boško

The book has four sections as mentioned in the title: Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest. Even though my knowledge of Greek mythology is quite basic, I still found the poems hard-hitting and extremely pleasing to read. The poems on love capture the heart and soul of the feeling of being in love. As I progressed further, I could not help but feel like I was experiencing heartbreak along with the poet through his poetry. There were many moments where I empathized with the poet and wished for a turnaround in his life. Overall, I highly recommend Myths, Doves, Tears, and the Rest for all those poetry lovers who wish to be taken on a journey of imagination and emotions.

Also, read my review on Reedsy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thankful for the beautiful changing colors of the fall
Red and orange leaves form a soft carpet path to walk.
Thankful for the warmth of the loved ones
Gathering together by the warm fire for long chats.
Thankful for the food and wine
Baked potatoes, stuffed turkey, and pumpkin pies.
Wish you all a happy thanksgiving
Overflowing with happiness, peace, and love.

Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

#5 Nevermore

Day 5 Inktober : Raven

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

– From the poem Raven by the literary genius Edgar Allen Poe.

Hello Fall!

How many times are you going to enthrall me with your colors, dear nature?
Yes, I love the flowers that bloom on you but look at you..
Your leaves are changing colors too.
From sweet green to flaming orange and burning red
So bright, so bold.
How do I stop admiring your wonders?
How are you so strikingly beautiful?
Look at you stand under the bright blue skies amidst the green meadows,
Wearing your red and orange leaves.
Yes, the temperatures are dropping but you don’t seem to be afraid.
Grounding me to be fierce and hopeful
With you all over again..
Hello Autumn, let’s embrace the cold days ahead.

The shape and color of these leaves are just.. ❤ *.*

Nothingness

I’m trying to sleep
And I see myself as a tiny little dot
Somewhere in Mombasa
and then in Kenya.
Zoom further away and I see Earth
Rotating and revolving around the sun
In the solar system
Zoom out further
In the milky way and into the universe
Where am I?
I don’t see me
Or anyone else.
There is nothing
We are all nothing
In this vast expanse of nothingness …

– Abizer Lokhandwala

It was almost like the sepia filter was turned on,
On the old forgotten roads.
Not a soul to be seen on the muddy streets.
He rode a bicycle and sang songs from the 80s.
He hurried home,
Saw his little daughter waiting for him at the porch.
They went inside hand-in-hand,
And found awaiting –
A bowl of hot rice
Steaming hot sambar
& crunchy papadam
That made his belly rumble and grumble with joy.
He sat down immediately to eat,
From the kitchen came his wife shouting,
“Wash your hands before you eat!”
All of a sudden, he woke up from his sleep.
Found beside him a white lady in green.
He wondered to himself,
“Which one of this is a dream?”

By Her Side

I am not a dragon,
I do not have a horde.
I am trapped inside this empty dark cave
With no shiny heaps of gold.

I wander aimlessly in the darkness with no real goal.
I wonder what’s in my destiny,
Is there a purpose for this existence?
I curl up in a corner and sleep like every other day.
But, who’s here today?
A little boy has walked into the cave.

He stands in front of me fearlessly and smiles.
I snarl, smoke rises from my nostrils.
He steps forward cautiously, his hand reaching towards me.
I curl deeper into the cave.
He waits patiently, his soul emitting an aura of kindness.
I rise up and breathe fire.
The boy as small as a shrimp near my feet,
Watched me in awe with no fear.
The cave was no ordinary one,
The fire melted the layer of soot away and revealed walls of gold.
The cave shone like the sun in the darkness of the night,
With a mighty dragon queen and a little boy as a guiding star by her side. 

This is for Us. Relatable Words #11

this is for us.
This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and love
and this is for doing it even if no one will ever know
because the beauty is in the act of doing it.
Not in what it can lead to.
This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playing
and no one is around and they will never know
but I will forever remember
and that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have,
and this is for you who write or play or read or sing
by yourself with the light off and door closed
when the world is asleep and the stars are aligned
and maybe no one will ever hear it
or read your words
or know your thoughts
but it doesn’t make it less noble.
It makes it ethereal. Mysterious.
Infinite.
For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe in
and only you can decide how much it meant
and means
and will forever mean
and other people will experience it too
through you.
Through your spirit. Through the way you talk.
Through the way you walk and love and laugh and care
and I never meant to write this long
but what I want to say is:
Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it: make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself
and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.
Let your very identity be your book.
Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

So go create. Take photographs in the woods, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountain
where no one will ever hear
and your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar.
Make your life be your art
and you will never be forgotten.

– CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON

Beautifully expressed by Charlotte Eriksson in her book, Another Vagabond Lost To Love. Thank you my friend, Abhishek Labhe for sharing this poem with me!