Tatiana Bazhan
The Weight of Ages: Modern Sonnets
If only I could
If only I could catch the fading light,
And hold it fast within my trembling hand,
To banish shadows of the coming night,
And paint the world with gold across the land.
If only I could mend a broken heart,
And weave the scattered pieces into whole,
To play a healing, empathetic part,
And ease the burden pressing on the soul.
If only I could silence doubt and fear,
That whisper softly, poisoning the mind,
And let the voice of courage ring so clear,
A stronger, bolder truth for me to find.
But dreams are fragile, and the world is cold,
And “if only” stories must remain untold.
A heartless measure
The city whispers laws of stone and steel,
That doom the strays, the lost, the hungry-eyed.
A heartless measure, callous hearts conceal,
As lives are forfeit, dignity denied.
Do we forget the loyalty they give,
The comfort offered in a lonely hour?
Are gentle waggings now no cause to live?
Is kindness lost to legislative power?
These creatures, born perhaps to luckless fate,
Deserve compassion, shelter, and a chance.
Not cruel indifference that seals their gate,
And ends their story in a vacant trance.
Let mercy guide us, break this wicked chain,
And offer hope, before they die in vain.
A guiding light
A guiding light, a spark within the soul,
A teacher stands, with wisdom in their eyes.
They plant the seeds of knowledge, make us whole,
And help our hidden talents to arise.
No rote memorization, dry and cold,
But passion breathed in every word they speak.
A tapestry of stories, new and old,
They weave, and for connections, always seek.
They challenge us to question, to explore,
Beyond the boundaries that we thought we knew.
They open doors we never saw before,
And paint a brighter, more inspiring view.
For such a teacher, we are truly blessed,
Their inspiration is a lifelong test.
Good morning, world!
The sun ascends, a kiss upon the dew,
And paints the eastern sky with hues of gold.
The world awakens, fresh and bright and new,
A story waiting, silently unfolds.
The birdsong rises, a melodious call,
Inviting slumber to release its hold.
Let shadows fade and gentle breezes fall,
As morning's promise, bravely, is unrolled.
So, greet the day with open heart and mind,
Let yesterday be buried in the past.
A fresh beginning, easily defined,
A chance to make a moment that will last.
Good morning, world! Let joy illuminate,
The path ahead, and seal your destined fate.
Silent sorrows
In realms of grey, where shadows softly creep,
A loveless place, devoid of warmth and light,
Where silent sorrows silently do weep,
And hope's bright flame is quenched in endless night.
The heart grows cold, a barren, frozen land,
No tender touch, no solace to be found,
An empty space, where spirits cannot stand,
And joy's sweet song is lost without a sound.
The chilling air whispers of discontent,
A lonely echo in the vacant halls,
Where love's fair promises are quickly rent,
And bitter tears like frozen raindrops fall.
Oh, loveless place, a desolate domain,
Where hearts adrift, forever feel the pain.
A pure heart
With eyes so bright, a spirit yet untamed,
A world of wonder held within your gaze,
A heart that beats, untarnished and unblamed,
You dance through life in sunlit, joyful haze.
Each step you take, a canvas yet unfilled,
Each word you speak, a melody so pure,
A garden where new dreams are gently tilled,
A future bright, eternally secure.
May laughter echo in your youthful years,
May kindness guide your path, both near and far,
Dispelling all your doubts and all your fears,
A shining light, a guiding, gentle star.
And as you grow, may joy still fill your days,
A child's pure heart, in countless, wondrous ways.
A fearless stride
No doubt remains, the echoes fade away,
A clarity descends, a tranquil light.
The paths diverge, where shadows used to play,
And truth emerges, banishing the night.
The restless heart, once burdened by its fear,
Now finds a solace in a steadfast grace.
The whispered doubts, I no longer hear,
Replaced by confidence, in time and space.
For, in this moment, firm and resolute,
I stand unyielding, on a solid ground.
The future beckons, a vibrant, hopeful loot,
Where certainty and triumph can be found.
So, let us venture, with a fearless stride,
Where “No Doubt” guides us, side by side.
Shall I?
Shall I compare you to summer's days?
Perhaps not, love, for summer fades too fast.
The sun may scorch, and blustery winds hold sway,
And beauty's lease but for a moment cast.
But in your eyes, a light that knows no end,
A constant warmth that winter cannot quell.
Your gentle heart, a loyal, steadfast friend,
A deeper beauty does within you dwell.
No fleeting joy, no quickly vanished grace,
But ever present, shining bright and true.
So, let the seasons run their changing race,
My love for you shall ever be anew.
For, you possess a beauty I adore,
That blossoms brighter than before.
Gentle grace
My blessing star, through shadows you appear,
A steady hand when I am lost and weak,
A voice of reason, calming every fear,
A silent comfort that I often seek.
In laughter shared, and tears that freely fall,
Our bond is forged, a treasure to behold.
You lift me up when I begin to stall,
A story whispered, centuries old.
No greater gift than friendship's gentle grace,
A loyal heart, a spirit pure and bright.
You paint a smile upon my weary face,
And fill my days with warmth and hopeful light.
So, thank you, friend, for all you are to me,
Eternally grateful, I will always be.
Breeding a sickness
The screen a mirror, but reflecting dread,
A constant stream of horrors, stark and grim,
Each headline screaming words that fill the head
With shadows dancing on the hopeful hymn.
The news, once meant to guide and to inform,
Now breeds a sickness, creeping in the soul,
Distorting truths and weathering the storm
Of doubt and fear that takes its cruel control.
We build our walls, defensive and withdrawn,
Suspecting neighbours, questioning each face,
The bitter seeds of paranoia sown,
Eroding empathy, displacing grace.
Oh, media's power, use it with such care,
Lest darkness claim us, trapped in our despair.
Shifting sands
The traveller seeks solace in new lands,
A change of scene, a different sky above,
He hopes to bury pain in shifting sands,
And leave behind the echoes of lost love.
He builds a life, a fortress made of stone,
Where worries dare not trespass or intrude,
Yet, in the quiet hours, when he's alone,
The phantom of the past still taunts his mood.
For, though he runs to mountains, sea, or shore,
And changes names and faces in the crowd,
He carries still the burden at his core,
A troubled soul, within a silent shroud.
Thus, flight is vain, a temporary ease,
For, self remains, the captive of unease.
Seamless processes
The gears now turn, not by a craftsman's hand,
But coded lines, a logic cold and clean.
Machines ascend, and at their stark command,
The tedious tasks, the drudgeries, unseen.
But as we yield the burdens to the byte,
And algorithms sculpt our daily bread,
Do we not trade a portion of our light,
For ease and comfort, fearlessly instead?
The human touch, the flaw, the gentle bend,
The spark of insight born of weary toil,
Are lost to seamless processes that lend
Efficiency, yet steal from fertile soil.
Automation's promise, bright and bold,
Leaves questions lingering: What price is sold?
A treasure to unfold
In halls of thought, where knowledge softly gleams,
A student's mind, a garden yet to bloom,
With eager heart, it chases after dreams,
And banishes the shadows of the gloom.
The books piled high, a treasure to unfold,
Each page a step on pathways yet unknown,
With every lesson, stories to be told,
And seeds of wisdom carefully are sown.
Through weary nights and days of focused gaze,
The student strives to conquer every height,
To build a future bright in countless ways,
And banish doubt with understanding's light.
So, let us learn, with passion as our guide,
And let our knowledge be our endless pride.
A bridge across the years
The wrinkles etched, a map of years gone by,
Reflect in eyes that gleam with youthful fire.
One seeks the shore where memories gently lie,
The other burns with unspent, bold desire.
The aged hand, a steady, knowing guide,
Can offer wisdom earned through life's long test,
While youthful feet, on passion's surging tide,
Can leap and dance and put all dreams to test.
A fragile bond, a bridge across the years,
Where solace found and understanding grows.
The young find comfort, calming all their fears,
The old relive what time now gently shows.
So, let them meet, beneath the sun's warm grace,
And find in each a purpose and a place.
A source of inner light
When shadows fall and doubts begin to rise,
And weary whispers try to steal my will,
I clench my fist and fix my gaze on skies,
Determined still, my purpose to fulfill.
Though stumbles mark the path I have to tread,
And burdens weigh upon my aching back,
No voice of fear can ever fill my head,
I will not break, I will not leave the track.
The storm may rage, the wind may fiercely blow,
My spirit stands, a beacon in the night,
For, in my heart, a burning ember glows,
A guiding star, a source of inner light.
So, let me strive, with courage as my guide,
Determination's strength, I will abide.
A fleeting fame
A gilded cage, a trophy on the shelf,
A fleeting fame, a momentary high,
These siren songs that whisper of oneself,
And promise joys that quickly fade and die.
We chase the shadows dancing in the light,
Ignoring whispers of a deeper need,
Mistaking glitter for the truest sight,
And planting selfishness as virtue's seed.
How often do we strive for things that seem
Essential to a life of worth and grace,
Only to find, upon a waking dream,
An emptiness that time cannot erase?
Let wisdom guide, and let the heart take heed,
Lest hollow goals plant sorrow's bitter seed.
A quiet power
Within the bounds of self-imposed command,
A strength is forged, a quiet power grows.
No fleeting whim dictates the busy hand,
But purpose clear, which steadily bestows.
The siren call of ease, it holds at bay,
Resisting comfort's soft and tempting snare.
Though weariness may linger on the way,
The disciplined heart finds solace in its care.
For, in the striving, virtue takes its root,
And aspirations blossom into deed.
The sweetest fruit is born of this pursuit,
A harvest reaped from planting well the seed.
So, bind yourself, and let your spirit soar,
Discipline's gift endures forevermore.
A bitter seed
A bitter seed, in darkness it takes root,
A creeping vine that chokes the fertile ground,
It twists the heart and poisons all the fruit
That love and kindness once had freely crowned.
A burning fire, it feeds on bitter lies,
And blinds the soul to beauty and to grace,
Reflecting only shadows in its eyes,
A desolate and unforgiving place.
It builds its walls with anger and with pain,
And shuts itself away from light and truth,
A prisoner bound by its own heavy chain,
Forever lost in unforgiving youth.
So, let compassion wash the hate away,
And greet the dawn of brighter, kinder days.
My endless love
My brightest star, my solace and my friend,
Your love, a beacon, shines throughout my days.
Through weary hours, your strength will never end,
A gentle hand that guides me through life's maze.
Your wisdom whispers, soft and ever true,
And in your smile, a warmth I always find.
For, all the care you've given, tried, and new,
A grateful heart, a love that's intertwined.
No words can capture how much you are worth,
A precious gem, a treasure I hold near.
From my first breath to now, till final earth,
My love for you, eternally is clear.
So, thank you, Mum, for all you've given me,
My endless love, for all eternity.
