The perfect road

There was this road I knew

happier than a bee in spring around a vergin blossom.

Its white long stripes glowing

in the sun,

at night,

under the rain...

whispering to the other drivers:

Look at me, just look at me...

I am so perfect, so smooth, so...linear...

Look at me...

my four lanes go back and forth,

straight ahead to your leisure destination...

to everywhere, anywhere...

Look at me...

One night I got lost on that perfect road

and I turned back, leaving my car behind...

After some time

my car came back.

"Too bad that perfect road,

that tiny piece of Universe...

was going nowhere".

Do I need to leave again?

Valentine, by Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.

It promises light

like the careful undressing of love.

Here.

It will blind you with tears

like a lover.

It will make your reflection

a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

possessive and faithful

as we are,

for as long as we are.

Take it.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,

if you like.Lethal.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,

cling to your knife.

I've never celebrated Valentine's, maybe because it's not an old Romanian tradition and because all the commercial part makes me sick...and also maybe because I've never felt that the person I was with deserved that kind of celebration. The idea of celebrating love is so wonderful that I've always felt I'd be untrue to it if I treated it conveniently, and superficially, that it will turn out to be some kind of...Christmas. This year I'll spend it by myself, and I am wondering...even if the person I'm seeing would be in town...would I want to give him a present as a symbol for Valentine? And the simple mere thought of it makes me feel good. Doubt is good, doubt is the doorway to every possible path, it questions things and questions are a child's toy while growing up, and as long as there are questions there will always be answers.

I've always liked this poem, it's truthful. It's an open answer, and an open question.

Well, Happy Valentine's to all whom will happen to read this little post.

When just a poem does the trick...

Nichita Stãnescu
The golden age of love

My hands are in love,alas,

my mouth loves -

and see, I am suddenly aware

that things are so close to me

I can hardly walk among them

without suffering.

It is a sweet feeling

of waking, of dreaming,

and I am here now, without sleep -

I clearly see the ivory gods,

I take them in my hands and

thrust them, laughing, in the moon

up to their sculpted hilts -

the wheel of an ancient ship, adorned

and spun by sailors.

Jupiter is yellow, Hera

the magnificent shades to silver.

I strike the wheel with my left hand and it moves.

It is a dance of sentiments, my love,

many a goddess of the air, between the two of us.

And I, the sail of my soul

billowed with longing,

look for you everywhere,and things come

ever closer,

crowding my chest, hurting me.

Roundabout (October 28, '07)

I've been walking straight ahead
passing by crossroads
my own
others'
others' and my own...

Crossing woods of words
seas of whispers
rivers of tears
mountains of happiness
and valleys of despair...

Taking my time,
ignoring time,
denying time to time itself
and to creation...

Walking slowly
and running fast
towards...some place, some...
place
love
towards...new crossroads.

And now I'm here.
Out of the woods of words
Out of the seas of whispers
Out of the rivers of tears
Down of the mountains of happiness
Up from the valleys of despair...

It's time to take a roundabout.

Shape of my heart (June 29, 07)

Shape of my heart...

My heart was wide open when I was born, like anyone else's

It didn't want to beat at first, but the care and love of doctor and nurses made it work in a heartbeat
And it stayed that way
expanding and exploring new horizons
'cause this is only natural for a heart to do.
It had no shape.
Or more likely its shape used to change...all the time...from butterfly to cloud
to wind
to fire
to earth
to all those small and great things around
seeking love, demanding love,
offering itself.
Unselfishly.
Then the natural course of life made it withdraw and close.
Its twin heart stopped beating,
'cause that's what hearts do when they're tired.
They rest
for eternity.
My heartbeat carried on, took over,
and my heart finally found a shape:
a pond lily at sunset.
And it was only a perpetual sunset my heart lived for.
It occasionally reopened.
Again and again...
But being a pond lily was so convenient...
And then it was aware that dawn had come for it too.
It opened, streched and perfumed the morning air with its new passion.
And then it expanded...all over...again...
It had no shape again and yet it could take any shape...
...any shape but the pond lily's...
My heart has no shape.
And it's scared

of a new not wanted and not welcome sunset.

7 wishes for yesterday, today, tomorrow (July 7, '07)

Wish I didn't look back
but I do.
Wish I didn't have regrets,
it's not fashionable.
But I do.
Wish I could love less
but I can't.
Wish life had been more fair to me
but this is life.
Wish I could take back things I said without meaning them,
but they were said
and sometimes we stumble into words.
Wish I could fight less and surrender more
but it's not easy to lose battles.
Wish you were here.