Poem Dedicated to Petya Stoykova Dubarova. Petya’s Poem in Three Parts. By Jenean C. Gilstrap

Poem Dedicated to Petya Stoykova Dubarova. Petya’s Poem in Three Parts. By Jenean C. Gilstrap
Jenean C Gilstrap
Petya Stoykova Dubarova. Source: wikipedia.

Petya Stoykova Dubarova. Source: wikipedia.

Petya Stoykova Dubarova, a well-recognised Bulgarian poet, born April 25, 1962, lived in the seaside town of Burgas.  On December 4, 1979, at the age of 17, Petya took an overdose of sleeping pills and departed this life.  In her poetry, however, she continues to grace our world with her unique perspective of life and love…a gypsy spirit that wrote of drowned stars floating on a sea and of mood clouds where all the sky lived in her.  To read her words is to hear the beat of her heart – a heart silenced by her own hand, far too soon.

Shortly before her death, Petya had allegedly been accused by school authorities of having deliberately interferred with the [compulsory] assembly production work line of the school and her grades were reduced.  It is thought by many that this was the deciding factor in her suicide – the inability of her gypsy spirit to live in the rigid world of conformity.

But…but what of these words of hers, written literally mere hours before she took an overdose of sleeping pills to end her short life…a life that was at its very beginning.  These words:







Behind the walls of the big house


This is the poem story of that magnificent young woman who left us all too soon, but who left us with the wonderful legacy of her beautiful words, and who left us with this intriguing [possible] clue to the reason her demise – a point of view of this writer and this writer alone.



her body in quiet slumber lay

for mourners now respects to pay

her laughter no longer to roam

in the house no longer a home

face framed in strands of discontent

a brown eyed girl with words did vent

a mother’s tears wash black the day

her child has gone and cannot stay

a lover’s tears cannot wash clean

this day his heart had not foreseen

they killed my child maria cries

but who knows what was what in all the lies

martyr for spirits of girls and boys

freedom’s price knows no joy

she dreamed in clouds forever high

her spirit reaching to the sky

barely out of her mother’s womb

not yet full bloom she met her doom

her poems now an immortal tomb

her soul sought a new dimension

and threw to the winds their convention

making a life of her own invention

a wild spirit cannot be tamed

and so it was her soul was maimed

* * * * *

socialism communism

marxism leninism



all those isms all those aints

clogging the heart of this poet saint

a young school girl who could not be

molded in the shape of conformity

her voice sings through eternity

who was there to protect her life

all bound up in oppressive strife

her value reduced to an assembly line

and teachers all her worth malign

she soon became the party’s new voice

did scholastic marks leave a choice

walls smeared in blood red streaks

petya is dead she cannot speak

white now the color of her cheeks

big brown eyes no longer see




politics over poetry at all costs

‘til spirit after spirit is forever lost

* * * * *


what of her words so out of synch

was she then on the dark dark brink

where was the rhyme she used through time

were her words there to hide a crime

who was forgiven in her last note

dream memory is what she wrote

cheated youth behind the big house walls

was this the clue about her fall

what secret is there that cheated youth

if only she were able to tell the truth

was it real or only a dream

was it memory or just a stream

of words with such a theme

what is the message she left behind

wanting us all her secret to find

could this be it the long lost key

why oh why did it have to be

was this the cause of her swallowing pills

was she made to act against her will

these words so dire

haunt me still



*[from an online article by Christopher Buxton “Death and the Maiden”]*

View Comments (2)
  • for the great job every day and every week – you have all my thanks and deepest gratitude… martin cid and isabel del rio!

  • Isabel Del Río Yareah

    Another fantastic poem, Jenean. Always a gorgeous moment!

Jenean C Gilstrap

Since childhood, Ms. Gilstrap has had a love of words-of writing and other arts. An individualist, she chooses not to follow any pre-conceived pattern for the outlay of these words – rather, she allows them the freedom to forge their own path as they make their way from her heart to pen to paper. Her art work involves both photography and mixed media on large canvasses. She is a weekly featured poet in Yareah Magazine where her works have appeared for more than a year. Her piece The Granite God was the winning poem in Painted Bride Quarterly Sidebar #12 [2012]. Her work has been featured in performance poetry theatrical productions in Louisiana and her short story, Retribution, published in the Helicon Literary Magazine there. She and her gypsywomanworld blog are included as character/story elements in Ghost Key, the fictional work of award-winning author Trish MacGregor. Her first volume of poetry [2013], words unspoken, is available in both paperback and on kindle at amazon. She currently divides her time between her home in Louisiana and the east coast as she completes her second volume of poetry to be published in 2013.

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