Posted by: Ron DuBour | January 16, 2015





One must have appointed I, Dimitry
At the beginning of history
To be satisfied with a mystery.

For one fine morning ,
Without truly doing any wrong
Came a liar in an artistic face.
Her cool and radiant smile,
Sweetened by college education.

She only caught herself
Telling a couple of truths
After exhausting all lies.
And then I began to treat the imperfect,
As though it were perfect.

I narrated her name in sleep
And so I was in love
But when I stopped to ask,
“How do I love her?
Let me recall the ways…”
It wasn’t enough to say
That I was in love.

She then stole my happiness
And vanished into space
Without leaving a road map.

And as they say in western language
That when you’re jilted
You become insane instantly.
So I’m currently squeezed in my room
Just being western.

Bitter but still prayerful,
That she keeps in good health
So that her ultimate journey
To the hottest place in hell.
Is postponed for a while

Sad and totally worn out
If you attempt to pity me
You will have to do these
For the rest of your life.


  1. very lovely poem

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