without stumbling

Once arrived at the gates
Never meant to stop
But to show
There is a passage
Into the know
There is a step
One needs to take
And a thought
To be thought
And then one’s changed
As he passes in a blink
Through these gates

Will you know
Can you tell and show?
When you find
The gates
Do not miss the chance
Pass and grow
Into the know
Into the light
Without a fight
In blink

Old poems: part 1 in the color of dust

The dust of memories

Come sit here on this bench with me
The wind of time has erased all memories
Of people who have been sitting on it
Tell me your story and I will write it
On the leaves of this tree, with the ink
Of my voice and your tears and it shall dry.
Till autumn all sins will have been forgotten
Most leaves will have taken their good bye
From the tree. Some will have become dust on the
Very same bench where we sit here today
our souls feeding the flame of a summer day.
If fire and wind are not enough let the rain come
And wash away all traces of dust till it’s gone.

The red kisses' effect

Red kisses can ripen the apples
Rise the sun on a sky of colors
Make the sea roar heard
Till the top of the mountains.

As for me, I fell forever in love
With an orange tree that we once found
In the church’s garden in front of which
At least in my memory kids will always play ball.

Children of the rainbow

if children would come
in all colors of the rainbow
would you dare to think
that blue is better than pink?
that red is better than purple
that green cannot be seen
in a certain place exclusively red?
that just because one is orange
should not come to class and sit
next to the ones colored like beet?

do you think they could share
themselves with their parents better
or just differently?
would they not ask
to know their past?
would we be ashamed
or try not to tell them
that a grand-grandfather was green?
would the start be different
in their race through live

if we would look at children
with the admiration we look
at multicolored butterflies in the sky
we would accept and not fear
their multitudes of why.
we could approach the real problems
after we've decided that color is not
what makes them real different
but what is in their heart
and their voices raised in a rainbow colored art.

Two thoughts in white

There is no beggining yet to the white story, it starts in the middle and it's supposed to continue

The wedding -or a dance for life

The heat of the summer had softened its pressure, and autumn was giving a rest to the people in the county. The works of the summer had been done and people had some time to have fun and to have weddings. The river that passed through the city was giggling with fresh sounds and promise of coolness.
The second day after the wedding the bride and a couple of the maidens went down to the river to bath. They were happy and somehow rushed in the water to cool down. The one that went first had been caught into a vortex that sucked her in, towards the bottom. She gave a sharp cry and the second maiden gave her hand but did not have enough strength to pull her out. She was to be sucked in as well. She waved her hand she looked in desperation at the other girls and they all made a chain with their arms, the bride the last in the chain and the river danced away with them pulling them down. The groom had come running by then to join the girls and it was only because of him and the strength of his love that he managed to pull out his bride from the monster mouth of the river. Other people had come and they pulled the girls out, one by one. They came back to live, all but the last one who had been down underwater for too long. She had been dancing with death for too long and they could not bring her back to life.
The bride and the groom were reborn again, in each other's arms; they were as much in love with each other as they were in love with life at this age.

The holiday

I do not call summer a real summer if I do not get to go to the sea, since childhood it has been like this.
She needed the sea for relaxing and for warming up the bones, for easing the rheumatic pain.
She would go to the beach, get some jar with mud from Techirgiol and wrap herself into this mud and let it dry in the sun. I do not know how much good it does for eh ailment, people say it does but it seems to make people feel good as the y stretch in the sun.
She could not afford to spend much on a holiday but she was very calculated, she could find the room with the cheapest rent and save money. One year she rented a room in an old man house. She was clean and hardworking so when she saw the kitchen of the old man in disarray she did not think she was a guest but washed the dishes and cleaned the space and made it look bright.
She cooked a soup for herself, one of the least expensive dishes...and she shared it with the old man. He found it delicious and asked her to cook for him instead of paying the rent. She saved money and at the end of the week returned home with arms full of presents, a sailor shirt for her beloved nephew, a few toy cars, a blouse for her daughter and cigarettes from the polish illegal traders on the nudist beach - for her son in law.
She got home with a night train and her son in law was waiting for her. It was one o clock in the night and she could not see him on the "peron" but he did. She looked around and spotted her train companions. They had a car and were headed towards a different part of the city but she was going to ask their help. She headed towards them when somebody seized her by her shoulders and would not let go and would not let her turn. She started talking with the presumed thief...I am an old woman; let me alone in peace... when he started laughing. After the scare a big laugh came from her back it was her son in law who o came to help her on her way home. They walked together since they had no car and for the 20-30 minutes they walked they had a good time-sharing each other's news.

A thought in three colored stripes

Hop in! Good morning Mam', good morning Sir! Mhm! The early morning ride from the parking to work is often quiet in the beginning, except for the salutation with the bus driver. The afternoon ride is more interactive. People talk to each other. It seems to have a positive psychological effect since people's faces relax in a smile, sometimes they smile because it's a social rule - I smile when I meet somebody. Or do I smile because I am glad I meet somebody. We are social animals, I vote for the second scenario. I look forward for the bus with three stripes: one blue, one yellow, one white. I will perhaps ride with Kathy and learn about her niece ballet skills, or with Jada and learn about how kids used to grow in the past and what parents thought was important for them; or who know maybe I will find out about an interesting project, or a new method to analyze my results. Perhaps I will find somebody to share my doubts and thoughts with. I decided I will not be lonely in this vehicle with three colored stripes. Time for me to get off. Good bye! Have a good evening.
PS: The driver starts singing to himself cause he was left alone in the bus. Hopefully not for long. He knows some fine Irish tunes, you should listen to him.

First colored thought: pink

It's April in Durham, NC and the color of the day is hard to choose. It has to be one of the colors of the azaleas but which color. Deep pink, fiery pink, light pink, orange pink or white? I think the color of the day should be definitely pink.
The place to be is the Duke Gardens. The azaleas can steel your soul. Wisteria covers the pergola in the center of the stairs garden, and its sweet smell runs through the blood vessels of the garden. Peony like tulips seem to be in fashion across the Duke campus. They look as if they smell like sorbet. A look like a fragrance. A color like an odor. This is a spring like no other reviving the soul for once more.