I. My heart is a well within which clear waters rise if it rains, mixed with mud. The moon inside it grows and dwindles continuously. She breaks for me her bread, I share with her my water. The more dreams I carry on my back, the more she shines brighter.
II. Because of too many shadows my road is darker and I hid in the hollow of an old tree. Tomorrow it will be cut down. The bloody knife is on the ground, covered with dust. I feel like a woman who has never had a shadow, either sunshine or moonlight.
III. Right before dawn, when dreams knock loudly at my conscience gate, a gray orchid grows under my eyelids. A night butterfly asleep on the white sugar bowl. What if the moon itself was nothing but the imprint of a dry flower on the iris of a child’s eye?
IV. If you dare to pass by the corner of a poet’s house in Venice, a black gate towards the old attic will open. There the moon turns on a gramophone record. Always the same tune, over waters and rice fields, beyond dams and oceans, beyond white birds migrations in any season.
I am from Romania, I write poems and haiku and sometimes I translate them into English. My poems and haiku were published in various e-zines or poetry journals and magazines in print in Romania or abroad. Poetry is for me like champagne poured in a mug. I discovered this site and I can say that I found many good poems here.
In those corners of your eyes my darkness prevades I wish all the doors gets locked from inside Why does our western gleam fades in twilight shades And still you’re searching for me in pale moonlight The night never brings
Catching moon beams, walking on crystal air, gliding over the ocean, full of love,without a care. Sliding on a rainbow, jumping on to a star, fire racing across the water, as i drag moon beams on the way. Moon beams
Away up in sky Shining so high She sat all alone On her royal throne Among the stars Like lighted cigars In uncanny solitude Mocking an attitude Glowing down on earth With a smile a gallon worth Guiding those who
A hidden self portrait in a tar pit I do not want to explore further. Wind was making a big sound the tarp blowing off, I stand naked under the scortching sun. A classless pain rises fiercely I am careless