Old School
Rasfoind sertarul electronic ce contine ultimele mele idei puse pe hartie, initial, si remodelate with the help of a special someone, am decis sa scot la iveala singura poezie careia nu i-am gasit nici dupa 6 ani sau mai bine titlu. Poate veniti si voi cu o idee demna de a fi luata in considerare.
So here it goes :
No Name
The clock rings 7 a.m.
I don’t want to wake up
I must end my vision
But i’ve lost it again
Need to get up and get a coffe cup
They say it’s day
But there is not light
All stars are but illusions
Only toys of the creations
My vision being gone, so is my light
Being gone in this cursed hide
Without knowing why I failed
Soon, I’ll be back to my routine
There is no escape, not even nicotine
Nothing can ever be changed
As the day ends
A strange feeling takes residence inside of me
I can not find the reason why
But i’ve seen you, and my heart started to cry
Then the vision came back, and reveales, slowly, you to me
As there is nothing in the past
I am glad to live in the future
Will my future still be there
Or will it just vanish?
The 2 colored life
A trecut ceva vreme de cand nu am mai pus ceva in aceasta categorie. Rascolind printre anumite posesiuni am descoperit ceva ce cred ca ar merita mentionat. Astept opiniile voastre sa imi ziceti ce parere aveti.
Black & Red
From the verge of my sanatorium’s window
this town’s painted in black and red.
Flying cars running crazy all around me
Reminding me of my passing years,
All black and red.
From the verge of my insanity,
Everything turns red and black.
How can I sit here with myself
With only a bottle of scotch by my side?
Like red and black.
I have already lost all my faith
In angels no longer white, but dark
Covered in scarlet blood.
No God, no sunrise, no hope…
Just black and red.
I have already drowned myself
In this sea of red and black,
Now I am nothing more than this:
Black soul imprisoned in these red bones,
All is red and black.
Poezie sau insiruire de cuvinte?
Postul asta e cauzat de o reactie a unei mari majoritati din randul oamenilor. Cel mai probabil voi deveni subiectiv, caci sunt oarecum implicat in subiect.
Dupa cum bine stiti, voi fanii mei, mai am printre aceste postari si poezii scrise de mine si editate de criticul personal( da-ti click pe categoria Poetry si le veti gasi), care au fost intampinate atat bine, cat si rau, dupa cum e normal; nu toata lumea trebuie sa fie de acord cu tine, desi ar fi frumos, dar atunci ar fi ceva ciudat. Ei bine, daca veti citi scrierile mele veti observa ca nu au rima. Sunt versuri albe. Si de aici porneste totul.
Cititorii de poezii din tara noastra se impart in doua mari categorii, zic eu, si anume : de natura eminesciana – clasicisti si restul, modernisti, desi cred ca termenul este putin exagerat. Nu intra in diferente mari, ci intr-una singura care este cea mai evidenta, si anume rima sau lipsa ei. Poezile clasice, romantice sau pana undeva spre apusul romantismul, undeva spre sfarsitul secolului al nouasprezecelea, au drep o caracteristica prezenta rimei in diverse forme ale acesteia. Cele moderniste si, mai ales neomoderniste, se caracterizeaza, dupa vagile mele amintiri, nu impartasesc aceasta caracteristica. Nu spun ca este prezenta, dar ea poate lipsi. Dupa cum ati observat, dupa lecturarea poeziilor mele, rima nu este prezenta fiindca am preferat versul alb. Am considerat ca astfel voi scoate in relief trasaturi si sentimente, in principiu apasare as zice, intr-un mod mai expresiv.
Dar deja intru in detalii despre creatia mea, ceea ce nu doream aici. Ideea acestui post a pornit de la faptul ca mi s-a spus de diverse persoane ca o poezie fara rima nu este o poezie, dar argumentul primit pentru asta nu a fost deloc unul impresionant, ci mai degraba unul hilar si pueril, as zice eu, si anume : ” Daca pui „Capra cu trei iezi” in versuri e poezie? „. Eu consider ca o poezie nu trebuie neaparat sa aiba rima pentru a fi poezie, caci nu asta este o trasatura definitorie a genului liric. Prezenta unor trairi sau sentimente reliefate de versuri, eul liric, muzicalitatea interna sau altele sunt elemente pe care eu le consider a fi definitorii pentru o poezie. Rima, masura, ritmul sunt elemente care tin de fiecare si de modul de abordare al poeziei fiecarui poet sau fiecarei persoane ce incearca sa scrie versuri. Cel putin asa consider eu.
As dori sa imi expuneti si voi parerile, cu argumente cat de cat solide, nu unele la mintea cocosului sau a unui copil de 2 ani jumate.
Kneel before their Majesties
The Two Queens
A strange coldness I feel in my hands,
I feel cold to my feet also,
I feel as if the Blue Queen of Frosts has stabbed me,
But why don’t I die?
I can feel my warm blood
touching the sands of this autumn,
but why don’t I die?
I feel nothing but pain now,
The Frost Blade has pierced my heart,
But what is the fire that is burning inside it?
My warm blood I feel pouring from my chest,
but my chest is white as the snow.
The pain fades away,
the blue blade is melting,
and so is the Queen of Snows,
And I know now why I was able to survive:
You gave me your strenght,
You poured all your love inside of me,
And it has given me power, as it always had.
You, my Red Queen of Love and Wisdom,
You were the one to save me,
The only one who could do so,
The only one who has my heart in her palms.
You are the only one I love and I will ever love,
You are my love, and thus I entrust it to your Majesty.
The Circle is now done
Si cu acest ultim post am terminat de postat cele 3 parti din The Circle. As I’ve said, The Circle is now complete. Hope you enjoyed it. Mai jos vor fi linkurile pentru toate cele 3 parti daca va e prea lene sa le cautati prin older entries.
The dark Corner 