Nikolai Tarasuk 

Lyndonville, NY, USA

 
 
 
Nikolai grew up in Medina, New York. During World War II, he served as radio operator aboard the USS Pasadena (CL-65). In 1989, Nikolai retired from the Lockport, New York Public School System. Today, a widower, he lives alone on a farm in Lyndonville, a few miles from his birthplace. He says, "Writing poetry is the noblest way I know to honor my father and mother." 
 

Weavers 

We are the weavers, you and I,  
Who tend the looms with ease;  
The rainbow strands we pick and try,  
Always the eye to please.  

Cascades of filaments align—  
See the warp threads emboss!  
At angles right the woof they cross,  
Icons to make of twine.  

As slides the shuttle to and fro,  
Muted trills softly go;  
Then scan the tapestry we try,  
The broken ends to tie.  

Yes, dexterous, we the weavers be,  
The looms we tend with care  
To weave the fabrics fine and fair  
For everyone to see.  

The threads of life are ours to choose,  
To weave and wisely use;  
Sheer threads of love we interlace  
To bond and hold in place 

  5-7-97  
  Medina, New York 

Paradox 

Two hands that once in their palms  
Held the world I no longer know:  
Gnarled, distorted phalanges augment  
The natural road maps of my life;  
Prominent furrows and runaway lines  
That crisscross, ray and merge  
With concentric ovals and odd symbols,  
Like faded constellations,  
Evoke mystery and wonder!  
Across the millennia hands like these,  
Sometimes shackled, have bled in sacrifice  
To build monumental wonders, to serve despots,  
Often to perish in  bondage;  
These powerful hands have crushed enemies,  
And have held back floodgates of anguish;  
Hands like these have touched the weak and dying,  
Blessing departed creatures great and small;  
these crudely sculptured hands that know  
Of love and tenderness—how on earth  
Could they once have held the world 

   11-21-97  
   Lyndonville, New York 

Untitled Cinquains

Candles  
I will light in  
Faraway lands hallowed  
By monks; I pray you'll fly away  
With me 
  
  9-17-94  
  Kyiv, Ukraine  
 
Rings  
Rings, rings  
For ding-a-lings!  
In the ears, eyelids and  
Nose, plus tintinabula for  
The toes!  
  
  8-4-96  
  Los Angeles, California 
All poems Copyright © 1998 Nikolai Tarasuk. All rights reserved.