Memories of Silence.

Collection of poems.

By Klara Landrat.

Written in New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Hong Kong and Tel Aviv.


A suite beneath the sky

Open your doors

Those hardest, darkest as I stand beneath

Open their dark beauty their mossy smell of the past

So easily confined.

Open your hands not the doors

But their hallways they so strangely hide.

And the gardens, dreams and whispers;

Regrets covered in vine.

Open your eyes and grasp

All the colors of the night.

Open the widows in the suite beneath the clouds.

Los Angeles



My blue is your white

Shaded by red in black

And silver

It melts like yellow

Breathing like purple

In my soft rainbows of bloom

I grasp

The yellow grey and brown

Like blue

I shine the white of your

Red intensity of jade

Within the mellow pink of

Your swallowing hips

Dancing like orange

In green disguise

I hide in gold like white

I swirl like stars in a bored lake of smile

That gives me all and nothing

In all the colors of the sky.




When does she pick the broken flowers

Their monumental petals

Folded in mind awaiting hours

For the chief mistress comes and gather

Remains of wishes

Scathed in her like a blather

Something in her yet to sprout

Something indeed unfolds in stout

Give me my garden

Full of stars and words

Pretty liars as they can be

Shouting darkness disguised by light

They bring me madness piercing through the night

They feed me dearly with resentful sight

They shed me from an orphan kite

Give me my freedom to remorse

My seldom happiness is coarse

Give me back my silence

Hideout from the world

Reality I can put in split of a sword

When will she see the out there cliff

When will she step over darkness depth

With sudden tenderness a wind she swept

Falling and soaring

Mistress fell

Far beyond the gardens, stars

Into the nothingness of scars

Once more that was not an easy flight

Will she ever be unraveled

Will she reach the daze of haze

Will she always be disdained

Maybe mistress will forget

Whilst the wishes at last met

Sleeping sadness in the cave

Loving kindly in the wave

World engulfed in a crave.

Tel Aviv



And so seldom that we dance

Not to dare the wicked trance

in the wars of wars so shy

we again decide to cry

in the turmoil of descent

Shadowed vastly in content

Its destruction comes in hand

With its evil smirk adorned

Here we rise and then we fall

Like a hill against the sky

Vanished truly by demise

Here we love and then we hate

With the candor of intent

Never ending discontent

Always wrong

In common ways

Ambushed sadly

Played by days.

Tel Aviv.



Fall and rise fragrant ancient wind

Bringing only good

As Iā€™m seldom tired of the past

Rise and bloom good fortune

Bringing only spring

Before we fall asleep

Among the darkness swallowed by the trees

Watching life through fingers slip.

Bloom and shine the time

I cannot see

Its kingdom I can feel

And oddly stranger came to give

A gift of light

You cannot resist

An ancient wind that changes all in me.

Los Angeles.