The skies go and go , the blue is fading away but I am always here to stay When the sky turns gray, when the rainbow is fading away It gets all the same , all the same And here I am , I stay , I am here They try right now to blacken the skies They corner me on the top of the mountain But the color from me won’t fade away It starts to go down from my eyes to my feet Touching the ground it starts to bloom Colors start to grow from beneath me They grow and grow And go around the world They color the mountain , they color the sea They color everything that is under me.
Srdjan Solkotovic(Srđan Šolkotović) is a young aspiring author born on the 6th of January, 1993. Currently owner of The Writing Hut and literature student, a writer born in Serbia, raised by multinational parents (Serbian/Wallachian father and Romanian mother).The first time I was interested in writing was around the age of 12. It seemed fun to create worlds that people enjoyed to read about. Writers are amazing, creating with only pen and paper. Like playing god.Most of my works are of a poetic nature but I have written and published some erotica. Now I have a few projects that I will work on and I hope that you will enjoy reading them when they are finished.
The blue sky and azure ocean, Dawn changing the aura of morning sky, Incandescent yellow rays of sunlight, Magnificent clouds billowing, mesmerizing charisma of rainbow, Sunrise and Sunset a magnificent golden orange hue, Brightly colored birds, Peacock’s display of iridescent
from known to known fear moves in a circle, like a cheetah; a jounery starts from shivers to shivers – when it was pouring the taste of sting ascending loosening beside between the lips a word strieks, terror spills from
This is the Horse Of A Different Color you’ve always heard tell about…well and this season it’s a celebration of the heart…ceremony of the horseman as the gypsies danced you kissed me and I lost all reason and as they
There is a river by the mountains, Covered by the deep dark forest. There is a river by the mountains, Where tired travellers take rest. There is a river by the mountains, Which flows like a lonely soul. There is