a man, a dog and the pond at the bottom of the levee:
brown reeds, an egret and a few muted gulls, scattered.
a man stopping, crouching, gazing into the distance,
holding on to that taut leash
for dear life.
his eyes across the water
with the solitude of the world.
in my headphones,
Adele belting out:
Night was falling in the coppice-wood
Each strand of light threadbare and bluish
Thinned out into mystery
The path darkened, populated by shadows
The clock in the church tower struck
The hour of the owls
Something shrieked in the distance
And a human shape approached on a bike
I clutched my umbrella with sweaty palms
My pulse quickened
A frightening moment all my own
A flirt with danger
An out-of-body experience
Dilating, not shrinking
Expecting to turn into a leaf or a slug to escape it all
Or to simply sit still and dissolve into a breath or a breeze
But then there you were
My phone lighting up with your number
Asking if I was OK
The man on the bike pedaled on
And I was left alone to settle into the peace
And the exhilaration.
#poetry #creative #writing
You call it this, I call it that,
the thingness of a thing is beyond
labels come and go
what is truly real is quiet and dark
its depths crushing and warm and full of moisture
like the savage mouth
of an intractable lover.
Like love, the world
may be screamed, sighed,
sucked, suckled, and moaned,
The brain is a funny thing. And funny things happen when your brain goes on vacation. I consider myself bilingual (Romanian and English) and I’ve been living in Germany for more than 15 years now, but never would I have thought that the German language would end up infiltrating… my dreams!
My dreams, yes. For the first time ever, I had a dream in German while I was at home in Romania, which makes it even stranger. And that’s not all. Not only did I dream in German, but I dreamt a whole poem in Goethe’s language! It ruined my sleep, of course, because I was so in awe, I had to make sure I could remember it well enough to jot it down in the morning. I managed to, but – alas! – only the second stanza. The first stanza (up to “Die Schienen…”) is a later addition (which, needless to say, has cost me a lot more effort and a couple of visits to the online dictionary), but the rest is entirely the creation of my subconscious.
So, here it is, I hope you like it:
Auf den Schmalspurzug wartend
Es wird Nacht in den Tälern
und ich muss wieder los.
Ein letzter Blick zum Himmel:
rosarot, erstarrt –
dann der Abstieg,
und ich, alleine in der Unermesslichkeit,
auf den Schmalspurzug wartend.
Die Schienen sind alt, alt und holprig
wie die alten Steinwege der Bauern.
Hinter dem Abendnebel, der Berg,
rutscht in Abwesenheit.
Es ist spät.
Gott lässt sich nieder
auf der bettelnde Handfläche der Pinien.
I watched blackbirds today.
I couldn’t sleep.
Early at dawn I watched a parent
feed her chick.
The older one was dark –
as burdens darken us;
the younger pale,
unknowing, made a fuss.
Peck, peck, they went
as their small beaks touched
From where I sat,
it looked as if they kissed.
And it occurred to me
that this is how you feed
the nerve to fly,
which I so sorely missed.
on the long path to spring,
when darkness clears
and the trees drop their skeletal shadows in the snow
like a bad memory,
like baggage one no longer needs
when the frost glistens with a gazillion different suns
in a myriad different eyes
and the crows’ croaking falls
like a letter from someone you love,
a letter you never thought
leave your shadows behind
and walk into the light.
You can tell by the fireworks.
To this day,
people’s hearts are set to the clocks
in their homelands,
They go off at different times,
then the smoke clears and the sky
remains mysterious and quiet until the next
You can tell by the fireworks.
To this fateful day,
the last of 2020,
when the cheer is inaudible,
they still explode to the clocks
of faraway homelands.
Healing is a feline
treading stealthily around the concrete monoliths
of the neighborhood –
slow and lazy
A striped tow of light,
sheaves of color falling from the trees,
from the November
and gathering in little pools
in your heart
to glitter in the dark