Selected Poems

By Mykolas Gudelis

New York Impressions I (To Kelsey)

A little red dress
Lost in the grayness
Of dirty January cold
With stripped down trees
And indifferent streets
Full of glasses bikes and beards
At the corner of Bedford and Fifth
All of the sudden
It makes me remember
Beauty Innocence Time
That passes by
I stay untouched
Not afraid anymore
To get cold
To grow old
Or be misunderstood
Not afraid of memories
That keep haunting me
(We all have our wrongs)
I am not afraid
As long as I can hear that tune of innocence
In a little red dress
On the corner of Bedford and Fifth
In the middle of the grayness
Of dirty January cold

New York Impressions II

Sunny Sunday morning
I find
Electric light
We are waiting
On the different sides of the platform
Barely noticing
The tracks have been changed

I find myself lost in the alphabet
Unable to make sense of the meaning of symbols

I watch you
From my little personal hell
From the chaos of symbols and unwanted memories
That keep tracking me down
I can see
Fiddle in your hands
Silent smile
A little hope

The unplayed tune of your fiddle
With colors of the electric light
Red yellow green and blue
And numbers
That is all we got
And all we need
6 4 3 2 5 1
From side to side
From sorrow to tragedy
From tragedy to madness

I am lost
Symbols colors directions
I blindly follow the tune
In a search for a day light
The train
Takes you away
Your silent fiddle
My little hope

By Monday
Letters were back
To where they usually belong
The numbers
1 2 3 4 5 6
But the electric light
Did not change much
Maybe just
And distance
Between us

The Distance

I do not remember
Have been scraped off my memory
Like graffiti being scrapped off
The walls
Of streets of old town Vilnius
Only names remain
Blue fading color
In the old notebook
We know but never tell
We will never get back
Only names remain
Without meaning
Without memory
The game of colors
Blue ink on the yellow paper

Meaningless signs of names
Echo in my memory
Like wind the wind that screams
When lost in arches
Of the old town Vilnius
I can almost hear our childhood
Of which we cannot talk anymore
Because of “then” and “there”
(As if it was not true)

There is nothing new here
In the city where I am at
Just another tide
Another rainy night
That washes away
Blue ink writings
On the yellow paper

I do not remember names

The Old Photograph

I stare at the old photograph
In my hands
The picture
Soaked with rain beer and sadness
I recall words
Uttered yesterday
They sparkle in my hands
So light fragile and hollow
No meaning
I see them falling
Hitting the ground
Shattering into thousands of peaces
Like a mirror glass
Every peace reflects your look
From yesterday
We are grownups
I do not recall your face anymore
The picture is so blurry
Like an old photograph in my hands
Soaked with rain beer and sadness