Ask For Silence

The blue mystery of the feathers...
A quill, drawn in ink by me – SvetlinaTrifonova


Ask for the silence.
Ask for time alone and time together.
Ask for a dance away from violence.
Ask, and ask, and ask again.
But when your wish is granted –
remember you are here for short.
Just for the sweet momentum of the violins.
Then when somebody holds your hands,
when all your questions have been answered,
remember the one who granted you this chance.
Look up, find a beam of light and fly inside.
Oh, how I pray that you remember.

19th of February, 2018

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

Poetry by Svetlina

More Soul-inspired poetry here 


Timeless Flower

Open up,
I say.

Open up
the timeless flower

the freshness of today

will entice
your Soul
to flourish,
to marvel,
to inspire.


He took the typewriter from the trash

and sold it,

unaware that he would meet her.

It seems I only told the truth

about what I have lived

to the strangers,

wanders, explorers, warriors,

and possibly some souls in danger.

They had nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

I never once told it to the ones that claimed they love me.

And I turned my head to the Sun,

hoping when it will fall behind the hill as slowly as it should.

You and me, we type, every single day we type

until someday… the typewriters disappear

and we can dance into their light.

James Vincent McMorrow – We Don’t Eat



Letters of Purity

dancer-2602775_1920To you I seem light on the outside, I know.

Dancing and swirling,

frivolous, beautiful, good.

You underline all these words happily,

sitting softly in the clouds of your heart.

My beloved,

you don’t know all the storms which have passed.

Do you?

You didn’t hear the sadness of the guitars,

that didn’t arrive

or how I broke all the strings of attachment,

nor the blissful dying of all that I was.

You didn’t know how many times

I remained all alone,

till I started loving reclusion

more than this room full of people and songs.

I was demolished, and scratched, broken in two,

penetrated with the wounds of this world.

And I barely survived

in a vast sea of voices,

when in truth

I hoping to hear

the most quiet one.

nature-1547302_1920The love you had is not a good.

Love is not a trade, you know.

The love you had is never lost,

but when you forget to water,

it doesn’t grow.

When you find yourself

surrounded in the darkest woods,

Love will come and play its part.

I’m not in love –

Love runs through me.

It showers everything it meets.

And trust me,

it is not my fault

if people have become devoid.


Did you ever ask yourself,

how you became who you are today?

I like dead ends,

it’s where I made a lot of friends.

I like the glory of

an honest story,

the man who waits for

the lover of his dreams.

I like the words of a stranger,

as I wait on the train,

I have been careless

and you seem to be in danger

with these men.

do you think you can meet me again?


The shortest prayer


My heart wants to come home.





A Tribute To The Tree


In my lungs lives a tree.

It’s my home and my stop,

always breathing in me.

9 generations of fortunate loves,

trees of colored beliefs,

trees of tireless talks.

In my lungs lives a tree.

Its leaves are floating like angels,

and its branches are deep like the sea.

Dear Tree, dear Tree….

I’m growing so strong.

Thank you for ever believing in me.


Poetry By The Sea

Black Sea, Bulgaria Once upon a June Personal Archive

Poetry lives in the weirdest of places,
for a stranger, it builds a home by the sea,
pours a coffee, breaths of calmness and peace,
kicks wilderness right below in the gut,
questions the point of journeys & races.

Svetlina Trifonova

More Poetry by Svetlina

Poetry of The Guest


I became a lover of my loneliness, 

a great frenemy to its existence.

And although

I was the one to build a home for it, 

I feel as if now

I am a victim of my guest.


Svetlina Trifonova


Grigor’s Blackout | My Favorite Poems of His

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Today’s topic…

Poems I can go back to (over & over again)

Today I’m sharing some of the best blackout poems of Grigor Atanasov. Grigor & I were both featured on the same project (Manu Propria). It’s a gigantic online book for collaboration of modern day artists such as poets, photographers, painters, living in my homeland.

Somehow he found my FB page later on and we shared our mutual adoration for the liberating talks of  Krishnamurti. I had no particular idea about blackout poetry at the time. I asked him whether he would let me “try it out as well.”

He was kind enough to stand my excitement and I enjoyed seeing this form of poetry through his eyes. In all my humbleness, I say that blackout poetry can be a very fine tool. You might be surprised what comes out.

You are often surprised what comes out.

About Grigor

He is a poet and a photographer, a keen traveler. Actually, traveling might come first on his list and then… all the rest could easily follow. Let me correct myself right now – he’s an explorer, a wanderer. 

Grigor’s poetry breathes air into our urban life, so it’s quite likely to find it in a gallery in Sofia, or gracing an urban wall that simply adores its new function in society!

Here, here, Grigor! What you don’t know yet.. is that I will play with your poetry now by… continuing every single poem with an odd answer, a mindful sentence or … a blissful silence. 




Very soon,

my friend,


will be


to us









You are right. 

They don’t.







I smelled

this about you.






The rain said:

You are endless.





You were not.

You are not


this world. 





“Live today”,








More beautiful poems