contemporary poetry
The countdown
POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 31, 2015
The countdown
The last morning of this year. While the rest of the “crowd” still sleeps (holidays!), I enjoy my solitude watching the trees shivering naked in the wind. The soft and cozy armchair comforts me in the kitchen, the only place of the house that allows me to make noise, lit candles and smile to my thoughts, still protecting the early morning sleep of my dear ones.
The trees are watching me back. Another year was measured by their leaves. Silence and darkness, only the wind trying to impress a snowless last day of this year. Around ten o’clock a.m. the night will go to sleep and the daylight will shine upon us for a few hours. The Northern hemisphere is not quite heaven in winter, especially for someone like me, born in the sunlight.
What is the protocol for the last day of the year? Is there any? Every year I feel the same restless “thing” that I must do something to mark the end of another segment of my life and every year I feel like I did nothing. Yes, I prepare food, drinks, the festive atmosphere. Yes, I write my feelings, thoughts in a diary to remember. And yet I am not satisfied. Something is missing. When someone dies, there are funerals to attend, to honor their passing. When a year dies what shall be done?
When I was a child my parents used “to shoot” the old year, open the windows wide at midnight for the new born year to enter the house and bring new good luck. I believed in what they did. I still do. Somehow the symbol of their tradition lost its roots here, in my country of adoption: new land, new meanings, old nostalgia.
So, apparently nothing could satisfy my need to mark the death of the 365th day of the year 2015. The TV is annoying, same old words, faces, tricks.
People outside seem to prepare themselves for the same old fights: shopping, dressing, camouflaging their faces for the parties.
Make up to cover up the wrinkles, the worries, the disappointments, the sadness, the loneliness, the compromising, the cheating, the faking, the boredom…
Only the true happiness needs no mask at all.
They seem ready for the countdown at midnight and for screaming “Happy New Year 2015”, wishing secretly or loud to be kissed by somebody (and to remember nothing or to regrette everything by the morning of January the 1st) while the champagne pours everywhere.
Cliché. The most cliché of all the clichés.
I would like to enter a monastery at midnight and thank Life for another year. Yes, that would make me happy. To light a candle and give thanks for those who are still alive in my life, those who are alive in the war, those who escape war and become free people, those who escape illness, children who really get help in the starving part of the world. To pray for those who lead countries and continents to be wiser and more honest, more human, less selfish, less greedy. To pray for the helpless, the blind, the deaf, the powerful, the killer, the preachers, the seekers of true light. To pray for peace on Earth.
But, I don’t need a monastery to do all of these. I can do it reasonably well here, in my kitchen, my humble sanctuary.
So, today, this morning of the 31th of December 2015, before daylight, I pray for one more year, I thank for all the years, I join hands with my naked trees and I kiss the old heaven, each cloud, each shivering star, each wounded branch, each bird, for the dying year.
Then I light up the new born stars, a blue moon, I paint some smoking chimneys on the old houses, a Christmas Tree for every child, an open window for the new year waiting to be born.
Then all my past years, dead and buried in my heart will know that I grew up with them, they taught me life, they taught me well…
Well, sleepy voices tell me that my fortress of solitude will be invaded by smiling sleepy faces soon.
Happy New Year 2016, my beloved Life!
Maria Magdalena Biela
Joulurauhan julistus/ The Proclamation of Christmas peace
POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 24, 2015
Joulurauhan julistus / The proclamation of Christmas peaceFor sure everywhere in this world people are wishing for peace, for kindness, for good will especially in Christmas time. But the only country I know which really preserved the tradition of “proclaiming the Christmas peace” publically in Christmas Eve, is Finland.
Finnish people have a deep and true respect for Christmas.
Since I’ve been living here, in this northern space, I came to the understanding that there are a few things which entered deeply my heart and have been keeping me believe in the miracle of mankind on Earth.
One of these wonderful things is “Joulurauhan julistus”, “The proclamation of Christmas peace” which happens every year, on 24th of December, 12.00 sharp, in the city of Turku.
The history of this tradition goes back in time, to the year 1200, when it happened for the first time. The version of then has been improved by the year 1886, when the punishment for breaking the Christmas peace became stronger.
On Christmas Eve, the house is clean, the Christmas Tree is filled with candles and the star is shining, and families gather around the table for the traditional Christmas meal. But, at 12.00 the TV is on and every family, all over Finland, becomes part of the crowd waiting in Turku, in front of the Brinkkala Mansion balcony, for the Proclamation of Christmas peace.
After that, Christmas time officially starts, people are celebrating in their ways, knowing that nobody is allowed to harm anybody all these sacred days.
Prior to 1886, Christmas peace was proclaimed from the doors and windows of the town hall, as the old saying went. The wooden balcony became known as the Christmas peace balcony and Finns living in Turku are faithful to their tradition.
Every year, at 12.00 , on Christmas Eve, Turku becomes the ” Christmas city” for all Finnish people.
After the chimes of Turku cathedral’s noon-day bell rang out across the square and following a ceremonial fanfare, one man formally reads the Declaration of peace from the balcony of Brinkkala House in Finnish and Swedish.“Huomenna, jos Jumala suo,
on meidän Herramme ja Vapahtajamme armorikas syntymäjuhla;
ja julistetaan siis täten yleinen joulurauha kehoittamalla
kaikkia tätä juhlaa asiaankuuluvalla hartaudella viettämään
sekä muutoin hiljaisesti ja rauhallisesti käyttäytymään,
sillä se, joka tämän rauhan rikkoo ja joulujuhlaa jollakin
laittomalla taikka sopimattomalla käytöksellä häiritsee,
on raskauttavien asianhaarain vallitessa syypää siihen
rangaistukseen, jonka laki ja asetukset kustakin rikoksesta
ja rikkomuksesta erikseen säätävät. Lopuksi toivotetaan kaupungin
kaikille asukkaille riemullista joulujuhlaa.”“I morgon, vill Gud,
infaller vår Herres och Frälsares nåderika födelsefest;
och varder förty härigenom en allmän julfred kungjord och påbjuden,
med åtvarning till envar att denna högtid med tillbörlig andakt fira,
och i övrigt iakttaga ett stilla och fridsamt uppförande,
emedan den, som häremot bryter samt julhögtiden
genom något olagligt eller otillbörligt förfarande oskärar,
gör sig under försvårande omständigheter förfallen till det straff,
lag och författningar för varje brott och överträdelse särskilt påbjuda.
Slutligen tillönskas stadens samtliga invånare en fröjdefull julhelg.”The Declaration of Christmas Peace in Turku Christmas City of Finland
“Tomorrow, God willing,
is the graceful celebration of the birth of our Lord and Saviour; and thus is declared a peaceful Christmas time to all, by advising devotion and to behave otherwise quietly and peacefully, because he who breaks this peace and violates the peace of Christmas by any illegal or improper behaviour shall under aggravating circumstances be guilty and punished according to what the law and statutes prescribe for each and every offence separately.”Kiitos Suomi!
Thank you, Finland, for keeping alive one place for peace, for goodness, for Santa Claus, for all people !
Hyvää ja rauhallista Joulua, Suomi! Merry Christmas to all!
Maria Magdalena Biela
S.O.S. Santa Claus!
POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories December 24, 2015
S. O. S. Santa Claus!Ever since we were children we have been waiting for Santa Claus to arrive on Christmas Eve and give us something which usually was our deepest wish. Growing up we have learned that Christmas is all about peace on earth, good will to mankind, light in our hearts. The road from the child waiting for Santa to the adult waiting for his children to smile in Santa’s arms is paved with memories, patience, experience and most of all the desire to keep alive the spirit of Christmas.
I was the child waiting for Santa, like I was waiting for my best friend. Now I am the adult who wants to help Santa be healthy and happy. But the time has changed and Santa gets slowly scared, tired during Christmas.
People grew too busy, too impatient, too greedy and some of them slowly have forgotten what Christmas is really all about. Santa cannot change the calendar, to reverse the time. He is confused: nowadays Christmas starts already in October?
All the shops are filled with shiny christmassy advertisement, TV offers all sorts of Christmas sales. By November the cities dress their Christmas trees with lights and stars are shining everywhere. When December comes every city or village is hosting the famous “christmas market”, where people go to drink mulled wine, eat sausages and buy all kind of christmassy stuff.
One can see Santa’s confusion! The Christmas trees aren’t green anymore! No! Now they are either white, or dazzling colorful, or golden yellow, cubist, or surrealist (Salvador Dali would be more confused than Santa!) as if we render our Christmas for a competition of the most postmodernist view and not as it is supposed to be: traditional. The streets become more and more crowded with busy people, nervous, aggressive, pushy, searching for something which never seems to please them enough. The food is either too expensive or out of date. The presents they prepare are a “must” not a pleasure. The cards they MUST send are too many to be written: in other words everything is “too something”.
Out of all this charade named Christmas one thing disturbs Santa the most: the presents offered by people to people. Offering a present to someone should bring happiness in both hearts: the giver and the receiver. When one prepares a present, one must think of the person who will receive it: what do they like, what would make them happy? A present should say: “I know who you are, I know what you secretly want, I know your dreams, wishes and I’d like to try to offer you a smile”.
A present mustn’t be a “must”, a duty, a “he gave me and I have to give him back “, do ut des. A present should be a quintessence of the person who offers it and of the person who receives it. Not a bribe, not a must, not a “thing which I don’t need, so I can give it to somebody else and get rid of it and of the duty of offering a present”. Or even worse: a present should not become a competition of “who’s richer than who?”. Unfortunately, more and more Christmas time has become a time for expensive gifts which have an ulterior motive. The heart is no longer involved in the process.
So, bottom line: Santa is sad and confused. How can we help him?
I remember him when I was a child, and he came to my parents’ house. It was not a rich house but it was clean, warm, luminous, cosy, with a shy Christmas tree in a corner decorated with candles and angels and ornaments made by me and my brothers. Santa felt home in my house. He knew the road by heart, it was silent night, snowy starry night, every year. Maybe that silence and the snow-covered house where children were dreaming of him in Christmas Eve is one thing which could guide Santa through the noisy life of today. Bear with us, Santa, we will bring back the Christmas spirit and we will remember how to make a house be a home for you!
Maria Magdalena Biela
On his birthday
POSTED IN contemporary poetry, Stories September 19, 2015
On his birthday
A happy birthday to you, my heart beat!
May love and laughter light your every day!
May peace and wisdom bless your every way,
and may you never steal, or lie, or cheat!Your eyes are filled with playful, candid light,
and Night, from your hair, shiny colours borrows,
and your soul pledged to Fate solemn and tight
to be forever honest, true to heart,
so if you must steal, steal away my sorrows.And every day we grow older together,
we change with age but Time we shall defeat
and we shall be eternal wind and feather,
and never shall we lose our faith and wit
for if you must lie, lie with me my sweet.A year from now you’ll read these words again
and you will wish: may the birthday that follows
bring other songs but always same refrain:
be always my Spring, my Green, my Crane!
And if you must cheat, cheat all Death’s tomorrows!May you never steal, or lie, or cheat,
but if you must steal, steal away my sorrows,
and if you must lie, lie with me, my sweet,
and if you must cheat, cheat all Death’s tomorrows,
for, without you, my soul feels incomplete.
Bielka
Prieteni de-o viata / Lifetime friends
POSTED IN contemporary poetry September 14, 2015
Prieteni de-o viata / Lifetime friends
Moarte, te văd mereu sucita.
Te înţeleg, ţi-e greu, esti prea trudita.
Ia-ţi o vacanta, pleacă la mare,
Munca-ti e grea, e-obositoare.
Hai la un croissant si o cafea,
Vino far’ de coasa, mai uita de ea!
Ia-ţi o ţinută mai tinerească,
Lasă copiii să te indrageasca.
Ce Dumnezeu, parc-ai fost blestemată
Să tot alergi din soartă-n soartă.
De vii pe la mine, eu te-oi omeni,
Am vinuri bune, oare ce-i pofti?
Te astept sa vii la ceas de seară,
S-o facem lată, pe prispă afară.
Ti-oi face-o cafea amara, turcească,
cu un trabuc, să te mai răcorească.
De vii la mine, ne tocmim de-acum,
Iţi bei cafeaua şi iti vezi de drum.
Facem un targ: iti ghicesc in cafea,
Iara tu te prefaci a ma uita.
De-o viaţă întreagă mă tot trudesc
Cum să fac oare să te talmacesc?
Poate in ceasca-ti ma vad stingher.
Ce ganduri ai cu mine, ma chére?
Te cunosc, Moarte, de cand m-am nascut,
Am mers mana-n mana de la inceput.
Am privit in doi spre acelasi Cer bland
Tu stiind raspunsuri, eu neintreband.
Imbatrinaram, trebaluind.
Eu cu traitul, tu tot cosind.
Ramas-am singuri: tu si eu, in zenit,
Si-o cafea neagra pentru cetit.
…………………………………………………….
Lifetime friends
Death dear, I see you are always sad
I understand you’re old and things got bad.
Take a vacation, go and see the Sea,
Your work is demanding, tiring, I agree.
Would you like a coffee and a baguette?
Come and, please, about your scythe forget!
Take a more youthful outfit, my dear,
Let children learn to love you more than fear.
Why in Heaven were you damned with hate
To run back and forth from fate to fate?
When you’ll come to me I’ll welcome you,
Tasty wines I have, for your review.
I’ll be waiting for you by twilight,
To go crazy on the porch outside.
I’ll make you a Turkish coffee thrill
And a good cigar to help you chill.
So, if you come, shall we bargain now:
Drink your coffee and I’ll tell you: Ciao!
Let’s agree now: I will read your coffee
And you will pretend to forget of me!
My whole life I tried and tried again
How to understand your loss and gain?
Maybe in your cup I’ll see, right there,
What on Earth you think of me, ma chére?
I know you, Death, since my day of birth.
We walked ever since hand in hand this Earth.
We both looked towards the same kind Heaven,
You knowing all answers, me not asking even.
We became older in work being caught.
I with the living, you mowing the lot.
And now, alone, you and I have a date,
And a black coffee to read the Fate.
Maria Magdalena Biela
The Ballerina
POSTED IN contemporary poetry September 7, 2015
The BallerinaThe light kissed their faces
Heaven’s hue through which it shown
An empty stage apart from her alone.
She needs no music, and stutters a breath
Her once stable ankles surrender and creath.
The silence is deafening
She feels so alone
On this worn old stage that she still calls her home.
Her dance is pure instinct,
and comes quickly with
Their judgement nearly brings her down to her knees.
Though they still stare, calculating and cold
Upset that she doesn’t fit into their perfect mould.
That smile, too big.
Those legs too long
Everything about her is perfectly wrong
She tries to continue,
hold her chin up
But the pressure is too much,
and she ceases to try.
Her dance is over,
she takes her bow
Her confident front is over now
She turns her back to her ghostly crowd,
She’ll hold in her tears, she’s far too proud
Walking away is the hardest part,
But no amount of applause can heal this broken heart.Celine Brielle
Curăță-mi diminețile de vise
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 31, 2015
Curăță-mi diminețile de viseCurăță-mi diminețile de vise
și nopțile de întuneric,
amiezile mi le-nnoptează
în lumini de stea
și Lună plină.
Ascunde-Te-n inima mea,
și-acolo,
cu funii de floare
și ploi,
înlănțuie-mi zborul
prin lume
și cântă-mi trist cântec-descântec,
pe strune
de suflet,
cu note de muguri
și nori.Apoi, obosiți de durerea
De-a nu fi niciodat-amândoi,
Adu-mi înapoi dimineața,
Cu vise frumoase, cu Noi.31.08.2015
CORINA DIMITRIU
Facebook…
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 25, 2015
facebook …te perdí hace varios siglos
te encontré en facebook,
en tu perfil parecés la gioconda
mirás de costado con algo misterioso
entre las manos, estás hermosa
te casaste tuviste hijos
visitaste Córdoba y otras latitudes
y tenés la costumbre de dormir hasta tarde
tenés 2.457 amigos / tenés más largo el pelo
tenés un tatuaje parecido al Indio
tenés tantas cosas que ayer no tenías!
nada teníamos ayer /éramos tan jóvenes /
creíamos que el mundo cabía en una pieza.
yo también me construí una existencia
y sonrío a diario
y practico yoga, y me creció una pancita
de asadito y cerveza
y de vez en cuando, alguna extraña certeza,
me arrastra a tu facebook
para mirarte un cachito.…………………………………………………………………………………..
te-am pierdut acum vreo cateva secole
te-am regasit pe facebook,
in poza-ti de profil pari a fi Gioconda
pari dintr-o parte ca ai ceva misterios
intre maini, esti frumoasa
te-ai casatorit, ai copii,
ai vizitat Cordoba si alte locuri
si ai obiceiul sa dormi pan’ mai tarziu
ai 2.457 de prieteni / ai parul mai lung
ai un tatuaj ce pare a fi un Indian
ai atat de multe lucruri pe care ieri nu le aveai!
ieri noi nu aveam nimic / eram atat de tineri /
credeam ca lumea ar incapea intr-o bucatica.
Si eu mi-am construit o existenta
si zambesc in fiece zi
si practic yoga, si mi-a crescut burta
de friptura si bere
si din cand in cand, o stranie siguranta
ma atrage spre facebook-ul tau
spre a te vedea pe bucatele.
in romaneste de Maria Magdalena Biela
Se había enamorado de la mujer equivocada
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 25, 2015
Se había enamorado de la mujer equivocada
se había enamorado de la mujer equivocada.
vino y me lo dijo:“estoy enamorado de la mujer equivocada.
tiene la voz más dulce del planeta,
vive diciéndome al oído
que el número que marco es incorrecto
o está fuera del área de servicio,
es muy graciosa, al menos por teléfono”yo lo miré y no supe realmente qué decirle.
porque su rostro era serio.
su rostro era el rostro de un enamorado.“la llamo 70 veces por día
y 70 veces me dice lo mismo,
esa metáfora,
esa adivinanza,
esa cosa,
yo le cuento lo que hice y dejé de hacer en el día
y ella me habla encima todo el tiempo,
alguna vez va a tener que decirme otra cosa
alguna vez va a tener que escucharme”supongo que sí, le digo.
él sonríe y mira la calle.……………………………………………………………………………
Era indragostit de femeia gresita.
El a venit si mi-a zis:“Sunt indragostit de femeia gresita.
are cea mai dulce voce de pe planeta,
traieste spunandu-mi la ureche
ca numarul pe care il formez e incorect
ori ca a fost scos din serviciu,
este foarte hazlie, cel putin la telefon.”Eu l-am privit nestiind realmente ce sa zic,
pentru ca fata lui era serioasa,
fata lui era fata unui indragostit.“O sun de 70 ori pe zi
si de 70 ori ea imi spune acelasi lucru
aceasta metafora
aceasta ghicitoare
acest lucru,
Eu ii spun ce-am facut si ce m-am oprit sa fac in acea zi
si ea vorbeste peste mine tot timpul
mereu pare ca-mi va spune altceva
mereu pare ca ma va asculta”.Probabil ca da, ii zic eu.
El surade si priveste strada.
……………………………………………………………………….He was in love with the wrong woman.
He came and told me:” I am in love with the wrong woman.
she has the sweetest voice on the planet,
she lives telling into my ear
that the number I dial is incorrect
or that it is out of service,
she is very funny, at least on the phone”.I look at him and I don’t really know what to say,
because his face was serious,
his face was the face of a lover.“I call her 70 times a day
and for 70 times she tells me the same thing
that metaphor,
that riddle,
that thing,
I tell her what I did and what I stopped doing that day
and she talks over me all the time
each time as if she would tell me something
each time as if she would listen to me.”I suppose yes, I tell him.
He smiles and watches the street.
translations, Maria Magdalena Biela
Pamânt si stele / Earth and Stars
POSTED IN contemporary poetry July 16, 2015
Pamânt si steleCând stelele mi-au spus
esti ca noi
a noastra
plamadita din noi
fata ta e luminoasa
esti frumoasa, frumoasa
parul tau
e aurul luminos stelar
am raspuns
voi îl vedeti astfel parul meu.
Voi îl luminati
stralucesc
iar fata mea la fel.
Mi-am privit apoi degetul cel mic
pe care unghia era asezata
putin strâmb
am zâmbit trist.Când pamântul mi-a spus
privindu-ma din profunzimile-i îndoielnice
într-o noapte care din el izvora
si care era a lui
fara stele…
Un pamânt
negru si cenusiu
Pamânt bogat
si cenusiu
geana ta e si a pamântului
gustul lamâiei e acelasi la tine
si la pamânt.
Ciutele când alearga în hohotul lor
nestavilit de râs
lasa aceeasi urma de lut ars
acelasi miros de ambra
în inima ta
si în inima pamântului
parul tau e întunecat
precum acesta noapte grea
din care am fost plamaditi.Pamântule,
Stelelor,
am strigat din toata puterea
(si cu toate acestea
nici Pamântul
nici Stelele
n-au ascultat chemarea)
Nu sunt nici
stele
nici pamânt.
Am sânge de tigan împarat.
În mine sunt pasari
si târâtoare
vulturi
meduze
pantere
pauni
privighetori
tigri
antilope
cameleoni.
Din toate acestea
m-am nascut eu
care contin
fara a fi continuta,
luminata de stele
întunecata de pamânt
am fost astfel
de la primul zvâcnet în forma de cruce
care mi-a însufletit
trupul
(si) care a fost o imensa cruce.**********************************************************
Earth and Stars
When the stars told me
you are like us
ours
created from us
your face is irradiant
you’re beautiful, beautiful
your hair
is stellar bright gold
I answered
you see my hair so.
You light it
I glow
and my face too.
Then I looked at my little finger
on which the nail was placed
a bit crooked
I smiled sadly.When the earth sad to me
watching me from his doubtful
depths
one night that rose from him
and that was his
without stars…
A black and grey
earth
A wealthy earth
and grey
your lash is of the earth’s as well
the lemon’s taste is the same to you
as it is to the earth.
When the roes run in their abandoned laughter
they leave the same trail of burnt clay
the same smell of amber
in your heart
and in the earth’s heart
your hair is dark
like this deep night
that we were created from.Earth,
Stars,
I shouted with all my strength
(but
neither the Earth
or the Stars
listened to my call)
I am not
stars
nor earth.
I have the blood of a gypsy king.
In me there are birds
and crawlers
eagles
jellyfish
panthers
peacocks
nightingales
tigers
antelopes
chameleons.
Of all this
I was born
that I bear
without being borne
brightened by stars
darkened by earth
I was so
from the first crossed twitch
that inspirited
my body
(and) that was a great cross.IRINEL FRANCU
