Anastasya Shepherd

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Tag: poetry

  • Flowers

    Flowers blooming on ancient battlements,
    crumbling them into dust…
    There is hope for us yet.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Freedom

    Freedom is the ability to make decisions and follow through with them. 
    Without thinking, you are controlled by knee-jerk reactions
    and decisions are made for you 
    by the specialists in knee-jerk reaction control:
    politicians and advertising executives.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Cities

    Cities…
    boxes upon boxes,
    crowded with the world’s most dangerous predators,
    noisy,
    indifferent,
    dirty,
    piling up higher and higher,
    all the way to heaven.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Tunnel Vision

    Language is just as much an instrument for seeing as eyes are.
    Look at things – and you will see the world.
    Look for things – and all you will see is the inside of your head.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Strangeness

    Sometimes, in the middle of the day on a country road,
    the essential strangeness of the world
    staggers you.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Point of View

    What is it that makes us human?
    Is it soul,
    technology,
    the use of handkerchiefs
    or two types of forks?
    I think it is language, for it gives us empathy;
    the ability to see through other’s eyes
    and hence the ability to see something truly new.
    Look through the eyes of an artist – it will give you the joy of creating a world.
    Look through the eyes of history – it will give you the desire for changing the world.
    Look through the eyes of a child – it will give you a reason for changing yourself. 

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Race

    Experience with people often allows us to predict their behaviour.
    Intelligence sometimes allows us to override our resultant expectations.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • A turning point

    A turning point is just a point:
    you can turn and go back,
    you can confront it and stand there until you drop,
    you can go in a spiral – under or over…
    there are always choices
    and the number of them depends on your imagination
    and on how much you are willing to change…
    I prefer to lie in the grass,
    looking up at passing clouds,
    waiting for the turning point of the season to come to me…
    and it will.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Ladybird Fall

    Leaves fall and wither,
    ladybirds go to sleep,
    walls crumble
    and doors dissolve into the background,
    like tissue paper…
    there is no point in grabbing an illusion –
    you will just dig your nails into the palms of your hands
    until they bleed
    and pain finally overcomes your desperate attempt at self-deception…
    and you are left with bleeding palms –
    not much one can do with wounded hands…
    much better to open your hand waving good-bye.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in
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