ripples of change

My friend - know
that you have the power
to change yourself!
And even more
you can change those
whom you touch
with your presence.
When this happens
You won't even know
so watch what you do
because your gesture
can plant a seed
of love or revenge
depending on what you think
and the soil where it is received.
I for one thank you
for putting the spring in my step
the pen in my hand
for if it was not for you
being here in the moment
there would have been
no point for all the ripples
and wrinkles in time and in space
at least not as far
as i am concerned.

carpe

the fruit that you want
you need to reach your hand out
for it and grab
or even better you need to
take a shovel and and a seed
dig and plant
and care for its fruit
to bear

for what you want
if don't do
most probably
won't come about

if you don't do it
it does not happen
my child

environmental math

i fear my friends
we have an ill posed problem to solve
and while we cannot really measure it well
there is not anymore enough love in the world.
just think in terms of it being like water
there is only so much to go around
and we are growing in numbers
we will just have to purify and to share

energy drain

please take it away
take the peaks of the noise
the edge of the blows
extinguish for a while
the fire at the tips
of these fingers

let some of the energy drain
on the dance floor,
on the pavement
on the ocean wave
take some away
for those in need
we'll give the sweat
of our palms
the song in our voice
and mostly for those
we truly love
a patch from
the tapestry of a dream

we welcomed it within
and we gladly let out
this breath that keeps us alive
we move from inside
to the edge of the universe
vibrating right back
the stories of the night
shall commence
their aerial dance

sedona

the sun set the stones on fire
they baked in front of his fury for ages
they patiently bended his anger
till the calmer days came;
the wind blew hard his lungs out
strong as the need for change in spring
unwillingly he peeled the fragile layer
of plants when he did so;
but they waited unclothed for warmer days;
the rain washed the composting remnants
in her attempt to forget the thirst of the summer,
and left them looking like new

and now they just lie, with their rounded backs
their bones strong, and somehow still ready to crumble
the unnecessary bits if one of the Gods demand sacrifice
pure, and red, and barren for most
awaiting whatever elements come their way
with the forehead up high, facing the sun
the rocks of Sedona

resilient like the prayer of an old man
fresh like the hope of a child
beautiful like adolescents
ageless they seem
the red rocks of Sedona

The soul of the village
 Lucian Blaga

Girl, put your hands on my knees
I think eternity was born in the village
Here all thoughts are slower
And your heart pumps more seldom
As if it were not beating within your chest,
But deep down underground.
Here can be healed the thirst for redemption
And if your feet are bleeding
Just sit on humid ground.
Now that the evening comes
The soul of the village flies nearby
Like the aroma of freshly cut grass
Like smoke rising from the straw roofs
Like a dance of young animals on high tombs.

translated from Romanian by Alexandra Badea

magic morning

magic morning on Erwin
when the icy sheet sublimates
to let the giant's breaths rise
towards the morning sun
through the pores in the ground
from the place where he sleeps

the morning started with
funnels of dancing mist
gently twirling in the sun
to the happy music brought about
when springs bursts through
the gates of winter with her laugh

lift your eyes
from the ground to the sky
switch palettes from brown to blue
and then again, from yellow to green
when the cover of his bed he changes
the giant called Erwin

Two of Ana's wishes:

1. ride dragons
2. go in outer space, where there is 0 gravity.

the moon's negligence

the moon lies down her bedsheets
on my lawn sometimes;
i know because it the morning
i can gather the stars
that dropped of her hair
as she combed it at sunrise;
i gather the stars - always a little too late;
being afraid to wake up crickets and birds,
and the stars that remain are invariably
turned into dew drops jewels or margarets.
switch off the lights and welcome the moon
to lay down her silky white sheets
in your gardens sometimes
and please do let her rest.

the storyteller

he came riding into town on a horse
turned white by the dust or perhaps
by the mere purity of his heart.
he wanted to share stories of his land
and people would listen and chat
and learn to speak the same words
from town to town; while all he got
was a few words for thanks and a couple
of coins, enough to last
so he can ride out to the next town.

the seeds of the stories he planted
they grew into vines, with flowers and fruits
that now connect all these towns
and the chidlren who tell of his stories
are somehow happily tied
with invisible chains of friendship
linking their hearts
into a similar dance, which they can
all dance in a world
where distance only matters at times.

the singer

his salty voice filled the piazza
his guitar working the rhythm
the children were used to stomping their feet,
their humming spreading all over town

the wind they created got strength to push
the cyclists up the hill,
rising their dreams bathed in sweat
above the clouds that limit the mind.

the dust from the motorcycles
did not dare stain the clothes hung out to dry
while he sang his heart out,
with stories he met in his travels or sleep

the girls turned pretty, and just as strong
as the boys because he sung their powers
in his songs. the boys dared to dream,
unashamed, just like girls - of a brighter tomorrow.

many children learned to take their firs steps,
and some even grew old enough to exchange
a first kiss, while he sung his stories
for a couple decades in salty voice, in the piazza.

bring about your vision

dare to bring about your vision
in front of our eyes
and work to restore its
harmonious fluttering wings
with the needle of a reality check;
care to build a harmonious body
for your vision, so it can swiftly
navigate her boat through crystal water
craft a course and catch the wind.
bring your rowers if the waters ever turn
angry , and give yourself a second chance
tame, tame please this world
so it can peacefully dream in the night
a white vision that we will not be ashame of
when it dances in front of the eyes
of our children,

the soul has a house

the soul has a house
with windows shaped like eyes
nose, ears and lips
through which music flows
in and out, like a breeze
making the tingling thoughts dance

the heart has a drum
to catch the beats and the rhytms
of lifes streams and torrents
and it lives and gives life
to the noises we carry
and exchange with dear ones

the leg has a foot
to beat a path that lies ahead
to execute the dance borne by the music
in somebbdy's head
let this be you, my darling you
be the shepherd of your thoughts and life

South

I was thought to always go south
To search for the sun
To dream the dream
Of the happiest summer.
I have followed the flock
And I have batted the wings
Like the victorious pelicans do
When they are not gliding
Smooth currents.
I have warmed up in the sun,
I have dreamt many dreams
And still have not found
In the depths of the south
That perfect round moment
Except when I was sharing
The day, the meal, and the the heart.

Holidays

Holidays to the heart
When with joy You notice in the morning
The waves of crepe myrtle
Dressed in full color,
Dancing by the window
to gently wake up
Into the light the sleepy eyes.
Holy days not written in any calendar
When the cardinals and the wrens
Sing their praise
And wake up those listening ears
To the glory of the new day
You are to begin and to build
For you and for helping others.

Summer

Summer breathes noisily
With the sounds of the cycads;
Summer springs with this
Incredible lightens of being
That makes mullets jump
Towards the sun;
Summer sweats our backs
as we take our bikes
To the beaches with sand;
Summer is where you'll find
Joy where the ocean kisses the sky
And if you try to get there
Anywhere - You just may

world on four violin strings

the world is soft
the world is kind
the world's mostly
made up of
what is in her mind;
whatever happens
she receives, she filters
before she reacts;
she works on making up
the vibes that resonate
with her dreams think
life should be
she modulates
the signals that she sends
out to the world in harmony.

colored art

color my strings
and color my music sheets
my violin will put out rainbows of sounds
in her conversion to visual arts

spring on Erwin

the giant has grown lace on his sleeves
waves of blooming red buds and magnolias
he has put on green pants to his knees
on which birds are chanting spring hymns

morning drive

each morning we drive
out of the city, and into the city
passing through a buffer of nowhere
where the soil is moist and relaxed
where the geese take their bath
and they could not care less
that we cross their land on our path

every morning we drive
down the spine on the back
of a giant called Erwin
and he seems to smile in his sleep
when we pass and the county wakes up
under the trotting feet of the horses
let out of their stalls in the fresh morning