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ANCA MIHAELA BRUMA

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 12/15/2015 |




At Your Door, The Night Closed Itself…

At your door, the night closed itself…
In this town, no story remained anymore,
In my words, no chattering disbeliefs…
My wing and your step don’t see the same flight
Yet… I left my hands as a seal on your forehead

At your door, the night closed itself…
You froze suspended as prolongation of me,
when you crumble, you fall over my precipice
but I cannot catch my soul from your wings,
and the thoughts run barefoot on the words’ edge.

At your door, the night closed itself…
Just listening to the late blossom,
and smell sunrises of your departures,
ceasing to gather each of your drop,
now, your eyes’ blade does not hurt… anymore…

At your door, the night closed itself…
I am crawling inside the corner’s words.
You are disheveled from my breathing,
my eyelids do not cradle your being
as washed away your dusty lost traces.
At your door, the night closed itself…
That nigh which grew stems on my body
Not to depart, I stopped inventing caresses,
my knees are risen by other wind archways
and the sunrise’s root buried my teardrops.

Even you closed your night at this door
Still, the Love can sing in rainbows over me!...


Our Conversation

A puff of Poetry,
and a line of Fiction...
You talked in Capitals,...
I whispered in Italics...
I raised the Symbolism,
You consumed the Alliteration!...
And our Words
are enunciated
in a permanent marker!!!

(Anca Mihaela - 25th January 2014)


I am a Moon dust dreamer...
watching moments of Resolution
how they build sonnets
under my eyelids
within an hour of Eternity...

Encased by an unbroken Time seed,
fertilized by the essence of a breeze
with spheres singing in spirals
the Harmony of the rings...

With no expired Headlines
within your painted fragments
in which... I KNOW...
we can co-Exist!...



ANCA MIHAELA

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