dots and fireflies

lack of alignment to my rationale 

lack of allignment to already 

connected dots.

dots that lead nowhere. 

dots that follow no path.

dots that have a way of building a bridge in between. 

but dots that are best seen in the dark.

surrounded by fireflies. 

the snow that passed

leave it

in the snow 

leave it where it hurts the most

at the 7th minute 

that never fully passed 

but never really was meant 

to be lived. 

rebel socks

wet socks into the night 

my infinite eyebrows raised into the sun 

I get to clean the horizon 

I get to make my way into the light 

filled with sins by action or by thoughts

filled of sins without repent as they represent my soul 

my loving full of laughter and light

soul 

as part of my soul. 

rebel and unrepentant. 

gelosy

gelosy that should never be 

gelosy that makes the soul weak 

gelosy that enables low vibration

of the mind.  

gelosy that sometimes touches my nails 

and very much annoys me. 

your thoughts

Away. 

I wonder if your thoughts come to meet mine. 

I think not.

I wonder if there is a mathematical argument you would not win. 

I think not. 

a story

in the little canoe that drives my thoughts 

where sups and infinite cords around my heart are issued into the sunset 

there 

it lies a small box

inside the box 

A letter of scholars and thieves 

about a snail that never bothered

that knew life by the drops of rain 

in the afternoon 

it is the story of the snail that sometimes 

people forget in their so called importance. 

facts of life

I take a sip of truth and I give it to the sea 

I caress your smile from the distance. My little stars in my ears are whispering facts of life. 

Small facts of life, that I enjoy. That I get to remember years after, drinking tea, in a tea shop, surrounded by books and colors. 

I have painted my life as I wished to. 

small lines

my small lines close to my eyes show the deepness of my journey 

my small lines inhabit my face, as they would forever need to.  

my small lines have become together with my soul. Not wanting to alter, but just to become. 

Becoming in womanhood, in motherhood, in any hood that life brings forward. 

rainbow

in this world I am linked to the earth 

as I carry stones in my pockets from early 

childhood. 

the rain is witness to my sorrow as it is to my happy days. 

coming closer to the rainbow in my life. 

wild heart

 whatever I do is not enough

my house is clean, 

but not enough

my life is full 

but I feel things are missing 

My kids are happy and healthy

and this is most important 

I am cherished

I know it. 

Still my heart is wild. 

presence

although I fight against it 

my thoughts follow a pattern 

I  can't yet reverse

I try to be present in every moment

but sometimes my thoughts fly 

and I dont know how to take them back 

I dont know why they follow you in another part of the country

close to where real poetry was born 

they follow you as they don't listen to reason

I don't know why your presence is so next to my heart yet. 

Maria Magdalena

If I were to choose to be one character in the bible I would always choose one - Mary Magdalen. 

As my grandmothers name.

As I think a woman is somehow thorned in-between her 7 demons. Or sometimes 10, or even 100, depending on the time of month, life age or just genetic impersonation of melancholic whit. 

As she decided to follow a man, as most woman in that time of age did, as many woman in this time and age still decide. As she decided for her life to be in his light. For her shadows to be erased by his presence.

But nobody remembers that shadows reappear only in darkness, marked by light.

Amarillo

unslept curves of symbols and feelings 

fully covered lines, white and black 

the only colors that do not answer to any God. 

There is a color that would glance in the distance, would laugh at my curves, 

would punish the God of pastel and would make indiscreet feel normal. 

Amarillo 

that I still miss to read and write in those curves of friendship.  

te simt

Te simt de la distanta. 

chiar si cand intri intr-o camera si sunt cu spatele, 

intr-o conversatie 

Simt cand si daca ai vrea sa imi vorbesti, fara sa te privesc, 

Chiar si cand pana la urma te opresti 

si nu o faci. 

pur si simplu, fara sa imi explic cum si de ce

Te simt. 

Si in tacere si in cuvant si intr-un fel de stangacie pe care o ascunzi instant in conversatii cu tertii in care 

te simti confortabil, 

cum e si normal 

pentru ca de cele mai multe ori 

le ghidezi. 

te simt chiar si cand nu sunt aproape 

si ma surprinde de fiecare data. 

my hands know the world

my determined hands

they know the world better than my eyes or lips 

they sense the snow, fire and ice in an embrace 

my hands give a real hug 

my hands lean into a dance, 

open like tulips in the spring and close the doors that were too long opened. 

Doors scratched with thornes of love and passion and emotion. 

My hands understand better the world. 

Let my hands dance a tulip dance and play the piano in a living room of dreams 

they will know what to do with those doors. 

another language

first time I felt emotion

it was at a long table in another city of the world. 

in my view a tired man, long, white faced. But a passionate one. 

And I found myself wanting to take care of him. 

Wanting to keep him in my arms. To say thank you. I know he made an effort. Maybe for me. Will never know. 

still

when you say sorry 

the earth is keeping still behind me

for some seconds

when you say sorry 

I believe you.

I know you mean it. 

7 gestures

I remember few days after those 

7 minutes. 

Just waiting. 

I remember weeks after those 7 minutes. 

Sometimes texting in conversation with emoticons.

A little bit ashamed. A little bit weak. A little bit too blonde and too vulnerable. 

A little bit too much, but my heart did not know how to release. 

I remember I wanted to take back those 7 minutes. 

I remember I did not like myself for wanting to take back something I felt. 

I remember I did not understand. 

So much distance in between what I felt and what was to be felt - absence. 

Absence I got used to at one point. 

And then Absence dissappeared. 

And things got almost normal. 

but normal I don't do it seems. 

I would love to do normal, 

but it seems I just don't do. 

I do gestures. 

and I do what I feel. 

in the last week of the year

a gesture came from my heart. 

a misplaced gesture

not suited and unwanted

gesture with no goal. 

the way I am

I am one way and in an only way

I am brave and vulnerable 

I am enthusiastic and energetic 

but sometimes I open up to you and others few 

and I am tired and less of how I used to be. 

your eyes

looking in your eyes 

and trying to look aside

looking in your eyes and finally being able to look away. 

looking in your eyes and seeing something

I want to embrace with all my heart. 

looking in your eyes 

walk away 

as it should be. 

truth

it is in a corner of a table 

that your truth your whole truth 

is set 

near my truth, my whole truth 

I feel it normal. I fully trust you. 

whispers

maybe it is my imagination 

or my intuition that is far fetched 

but I feel you waiting. 

not so sure of what.

just some thoughts 

some things you decipher in my presence

or just of my presence. 

most probably it is nothing at all 

it is again nothingNess of my whisper

whisper to share

 

no purpose

why do I still feel the need to write my emotions down?

or just to say hi 

or only to say I just left some place early or late.

It has no purpose.

Will learn to stop. 

 

shadows

inside a woman 

a man resides 

her ideal masculine self 

it is towards him 

letters were written 

from 12 to 15th of age

it is towards this man, usually strong and beautiful, smart and kind 

her dreams have opened up like flowers in spring 

and she carries this image with her 

sometimes all her years 

sometimes if she is lucky 

up to the moment when

she feels reality will never be a dream 

and should never be one. 

reality is messy as a real man and woman are, 

but she has the force inside to still smile at that dream, of that little girl. 

independent woman

the cost of being an independent woman

you loose the dependant 

you loose the woman who needs to depend 

you loose the masculine outside your soul 

and you tend to build a masculine inside your body, somewhere to the left of what is your heart. 

the cost is too high 

but the risks of not being independent

history shows is too deep 

for a women that can get in need

for independency. 

dragon pe un umar gol

dragoni zboara din calcule matematice 

dragoni scot flacari si se arunca peste artificii complicate

un singur dragon isi gaseste linistea pe umarul meu gol, alb si plin 

se agata cu ghearele de breteaua sutienului aramiu cu flori de camp si se aduna acolo cu toata fiinta lui

acolo la umbra claviculei usor proeminente 

unde are un ceas sa doarma, sa se gaseasca, sa se adune in el focul nesfarsit

atata timp cat umarul meu gol il primeste

ca si cum l-ar fi asteptat 

demult.

Ash near your cheeks

It is near your right lobe 

or near your cheeks that my thoughts rub 

sometimes they collide with your skin 

but it is ash, as thoughts not encountered turn to.

As they have no other chance. 

Iasi

Seeing Iasi through your eyes 

seeing it again in a festival of colors

Seeing Iasi through your eyes would be a journey I would partake.

your soul on the table

when you look at me,

as you did today 

my determination,

my distance fade

when you look at me 

with your soul on the table 

or maybe again it is just

how I feel it,

that something that resides somewhere in between the lines

comes closer 

to my reality, 

to my body and to my soul. 

your beautiful mind

sometimes I just see your mind 

and it is beautiful. It is one of the smartest minds I have ever encountered. 

sometimes I feel your heart 

and it is huge and it is somehow naive 

sometimes I wonder how others see you 

and why your first instinct is to sit in a different table then your own. 

sometimes I wonder what is it you are looking  for. 

12 men

There was once in the most known story in the world 12 men and many woman, who looked after a vulnerable young man. 

A man of truth and maybe of madness. A man who called himself the Son of God. Not the God of lighting, or the Son of darkness, but the Son of the one and only God, the God that the Hebrews portrayed, the God that only the ones that will be called Christians saw. 

Between the 12th there was a sinner, there was a traitor and there was one that thought he had the faith of the kings of Jerusalem, but he was still full of fear, a person with doubts and failures. He sang the song of treason before the third rooster sang his morning song. 

His name was Petru. The one Pavel looked after. 

waited

I waited for you 

for your presence 

for your smile 

for your voice and for your stories 

I could not connect to anyone else 

In any way. 

Then suddenly a glimpse of reality

nothingness has disappeared into the veil of the afternoon in

waiting.  

The moon reminds me to come out and play. 

Waiting needs to be done with 

It is for another type of woman. 

friends

finally I get to not look for you 

in every corner of my body or of the building inside my skull. 

finally I get to enjoy your presence 

as you mean it. 

smile

seeing you smile 

still makes my heart run faster 

seeing your smile 

makes me feel

makes me want to stay with you for hours 

break from reality

a break from all the corners I used to leave my reality 

my reality where I am very much respected

even spoiled with gifts and with attention 

my reality with my people that for a while in my thoughts I deserted 

and it was a good time to spend abroad 

a good time to find again myself 

my longing 

my predictable reactions 

my unpredictable emotions 

my choices

and the person I cared for 

because something inside drove me.

And I don't regret it as I leave it behind me. 

jungle story

I left this time and space

went away to a jungle in my head

of wondering stories and elephants and tigers that run in my head like they are running a half marathon. 

never followed me 

as it should be 

and I appreciate it 

and I admired you for it 

and it took me too long to start coming out of the story in my head. 

ankle's truth

in my hair flowers of determination are felt 

on my body little points of torsion are imuable and intended 

my ears keep inside little butterflies that give it a go once in a while

my heart is sunbathing in the moons light 

and my ankles have known the truth for a long time now. 

the comitment of my body to entering a new cycle of life 

my hopes for you

my hopes for you are to be happy and rested

for all your loved ones to be healthy and safe

 

my hopes for you are to dig deep inside your spirit to find all that you ask for, from yourself. 

my hopes for you are to feel cherished. 

double measure

things done with double measure 

give me a specific reaction 

a grieving and unjust feeling  

things done without balance

without keeping in mind the same rules

make me a rebel, make me want to through down the judgement and the decision makers. 

mind and heart

my lips are week and kind 

my knees are songs of mermaids 

my hair is too blonde to count

my eyes always tell the truth 

my breast are strong and rebels

my hands are my grandmothers hands

my chin is judgemental and intended.

my shoulders are soft and green 

my mind and my heart are many times in contradiction. 

rain drops

there is a tree in the middle 

of my living room

in which rain drops and tapioca bubbles fly 

i feed this tree with milk and honey

for it is the tree that stays tall

that listens 

never repeats it self and never dies.

rain drops and colored tapioca bubbles are covering the ceiling and my floor is wet. 

transition

can not see the glass ceiling anymore 

transition to reality 

as I seem to need it. 

echoes

echoes of tenderness 

echoes of shared connection 

echoes of something 

imagined

impossible and unreal

but very much desired 

echoes that are lost 

slices of life 

surrender

the closeness I used to feel 

disappears slowly 

into the light of a thousand suns 

that brings my moon into surrender. 

surrender my heart 

to reality and to your implacable will 

surrender to the wind. For the wind will know where to take any feelings left. 

surrender in the light of the moon, 

the only one that shadows my heart.