ABOUT ELLA YANUSHEVSKAYA

- Lives in Baltimore, MD;
- Born in the former Soviet Union;
- Studied Linguistics and Literature under the guidance of a well-known Russian poet Victor Krivulin;
- Wrote poetry in Russian;
- Graduated from a University of Arts and Culture in St-Petersburg, Russia with B.A. in Arts and Cultural Events;
- In 1998, moved to the USA;
- In 2000, graduated from MBC&S, Baltimore, MD with the B.A. in Biblical Studies;
- In 2001, graduated from International Institute of Linguistics, Baltimore, MD with M.A. in TESL;
- In December of 2010, Eber & Wein published her poem "There is Beauty in Every Disgrace";
- In 04/2011, PublishAmerica released her first Poetry Book THERE IS BEAUTY IN EVERY DISGRACE;
- In 11/2011, poem "Incendiary Dance" featured in the Deluxe Hardbound Edition of "Stars in Our Hearts";
- 11/28/2011 is the release date of her second Poetry Book, THE SPINNING WHEEL OF LOVE.
- In 2012, Ella Yanushevskaya became a recipient of the award GREAT POETS ACROSS AMERICA*AWARD WINNING POET from the World Poetry Movement, for participation in 2012 National Poetry Competition with the Poem "I Long for You"
- At present, she is working on her third Poetry Book, WITH LIFE’S OWN MAGIC.

THE DARK MATTER

A unit of the dark matter is connected to all other units of the dark matter;
Every evil thought is connected to every other evil thought;
They all are bound by the same dark matter, coming from the same hidden pool of evil.

When you feed on an evil thought: lust, perversion, depression, suicide, anger, greed, murder…, you think, “no one knows my thoughts, no one is hurt by them; I have no intension to hurt anybody…”
But the matter knows. The matter is projecting the dark thoughts; the matter is touched by every dark thought; every dark thought makes the matter vibrate and grow until it unleashes more darkness and evil.
The more you feed on darkness, the more the dark matter grows, feeding on you. Every dark thought connects you to the evil of the world, making you its supporter, its accomplice. You cannot lie to it, you cannot play with it. It is the Master of all that is dark and you are its slave.
You can hide from it only in Christ by bringing every thought into captivity of the Word of God. (2 Corinthians 10:5). God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. (1 John 1:5). That is why Christ brought the new law of the mind in Matthew 5-7.
~by Ella Yanushevskaya~05/22/2015

TIMELESS BEAUTY

Royalty attracts me more than anything,

Dignity attracts me even more:

Beauty of a storefront might be ravishing,

But the real splendor's through the door.

Fascinating light comes from the finery,

Beauty speaks like nothing else to eye;

But the true wine’s from a bitter winery:

Broken, bruised and kept in dark to thrive.

Bruised the life of Christ who chose not to leave:

Darkest time, no finery, no glee…

But the light of God in those who believe –  

Timeless beauty made on Calvary.

04/04/2015

LIFE WITHOUT LOVE

Life without love… it’s just a being! –

Dwelling in the ordinary walls:

No emotions flying through the ceiling,

No addictive kissing downfalls.

Well-established wisdom’s golden verse –

“Life without love… it’s just a being!" –

No romance and never ever seeing

Fruits of love for better or for worse.

Day by day just dragging through sunsets,

Ever stumbling at the life’s old meaning:

Life without love… it’s just a being! –

Never risking going for the set.

Ending life or only just beginning,

Letting time like sand through fingers cease...

Take a risk or safely end up with

Life without love… it’s just a being!

03/20/2015

HOW PRETTY IS BEAUTY

When she is smiling and she is pretty,

Everyone says: oh, she’s startling, what a beauty! –

And she is kind; she must have a good heart!

When she is not so pretty and she is smiling,

Everyone says: oh, she is a darling, but…

What a pity that she is not pretty! –

She might have a good heart,

But it’s probably torn apart – needy to be pretty!

So, what is beauty? – A form, not spirit?! –

To be proper, not weird?! –

To please the right eyes?! –

To fit the right size; always to be sweet? –

To live unspoken and neat; to adapt what’s broken…to fit?

So, beauty is a form, not a spirit?! –

Spirit isn’t pretty, it’s weird,

Fitting not the conventional size pot,

Taking not a foggy advice; outspoken, no lies.

It restores in a bit those things that don’t fit,

To give wings to a hopeless misfit. –

To sow love where a soul grows needy,

To breathe wisdom into a form not so pretty;

To quit fire of a cruel rivalry,

To cherish the fruit over the name of a tree.

To give freedom and hope –

Those are, I just thought, true beauties…without being pretty.

True love is not pretty: it takes beating;

It cleans up the mess, being spat on nevertheless.

It died on a cross, that none would be lost.

Now, given the circumstance: that its suffering was intense,

We can call it gracious, no less, but it was not pretty! –

Likewise, two most beautiful things heaven-made:

The birth of a child and the death of a saint…

They are gruesome, a heartache; they are not pretty,

But…oh… what a beauty!!!

03/15/2015

FOG

Milk mixed in a bowl of chocolate pudding.

Misty breath envelops light poles so fair!

But no one sees beauty

The way it is,

Nobody care.

Everybody stare at their screens,

Like something in there they have not seen! –

Except for the notepad

Fairly bare, snug on my knees:

It plays truth or dare

With the bathing trees…

Their bushy heads float in the air

Trunk-less –

The earth is not there: it’s dissolved in the bowl

Of milk, mixed with chocolate pudding. 

03/14/2015

A MIRRORED LULLABY

Please, be alright!

Tiny head; small fingers holding her hand;

Mother's praying – trembling lips, bent.

Night in the dusk hiding lingering tears. 

Love is a lion, roaring, fierce:

Claiming her baby – the life and light!

Sweetest treasure mother holds tight.

Life she's giving and gleaning –

Baby, precious, the whole life’s meaning!

Like a feather floating sigh,

Her loving imbedded –

A lullaby –

Imbedded loving – her

Sigh, floating, feather alike,

Meaning: life’s whole precious! Baby

Gleaning and giving – she’s life!

Tight holds mother treasure sweetest –

Light and life; the baby her claiming!

Fierce, roaring lion-e-ss Love…

Tears lingering, hiding dusk in the night,

Bent, lips trembling, praying mother

Hand her holding. Fingers small, head tiny,

Alright…be… please! 

03/13/2015 

WITH LIFE’S OWN MAGIC

When growing up, the world held simple magic:

Cold milk and cookies, games of hide and seek;

Days were less common, mostly – unique,

And lovely things were easy to imagine!

Sweet summer nights, smells of the waking pier,

Vacation trips to faraway old lands…

Life seemed at play – a wave without end;

But at some point, that wave has disappeared. 

So many shattered, broken dreams and thoughts;

So many days passed in the useless linger…

No words can help, no tears – friendly stingers,

Can suffocate regret, that nightly plots. 

Still, magic’s at my very fingertips,

It comes to play when no one sticks around:

Just two of us, by a strange commitment bound,

Enhancing life by making rhyming trips,

With life’s own magic at my very fingertips.

02/16/13

A PROVIDENTIAL TRICK

I heard once music gentle and unique;

Whoever wrote it was soft and clever…

Just carrying on with usual endeavor,

I listened to its twining lace antique.

The music was so vibrant, flowing free,

Refreshing with each note my coping silence…

Like shielding from the dire news of violence,

It brought back thoughts of peace, good memories.

When ended it, I wouldn’t even know:

It made such blend of subtlety and numbness:

Fret of unknown and ever-knowing calmness

Of what the end of things for me bestows.

Life goes on like music soft and quick,

Sowing at times her vernal drops of laughter…

It may not reach the happy ever-after,

But to enjoy it – a providential trick. 

       

03/13/2015

TODAY, THE SPRING

Today, the spring came, chirping in my window,

Identifiable by many little things;

My peaceful heart with no attached love strings

Was taken by its ray, stirred up and swindled.

The same heartbeat, but breathing skips the cue,

Like day like night stroll by in magic glamour,

Spring brings delight, her air's filled with tremor

Of hopes and wishes bathing in the dew.

Rembrandt, Monet, Cezanne, Renoir, Chagall ...

The brush of spring inspired by God's nature.

Exhausted efforts and unpolished gestures -

The summer heat - just trivial scandal.

03/09/15

THERE IS A PLACE

There is a place where I can simply fly,

Where I can stand upon the highest mountain;

And fear free lie, gazing at the sky,

And carefree sit, drinking from its fountain.

That place is like a hidden universe

Where timeless flights connect the countless galaxies

Established on God's blessings, not on curse,

And run by gracious words not spoken callously.

That secret place embraces who I am,

Condemns me not when I hide pain so wistfully;

It knows my heart, and sees it as a gem

With multiple reflections glowing blissfully.

That's where I go when troubles firmly press;

That's where I hide undone, embarrassed, miserable.

That's where I dream, in love, a mushy mess!

That's where I talk when no one hears this rebel.

I meet my God in here, worship, pray:

Invisible the cause of life's whateverness –

Good, bad, in Him - a winner, not a prey!

By faith that lasts, defeating death nevertheless.

02/23/2015