contemporary poetry
La fereastra Ajunului / At the Christams Eve’s window
POSTED IN contemporary poetry December 25, 2020
La fereastra Ajunului / At the Christams Eve’s windowI-am colindat prin telefon pe mama și tata in seara asta sfântă, așa cum fac in fiece an, de când am plecat. Anul trecut am întrebat cu zâmbete:
– Primiți cu colindul?
Și ei, fericiți, mulțumiți, au acceptat râzând. Acum însă…
Pentru câteva minute a răsunat doar glasul meu și, in adâncul nopții, plânsul lor tăcut, sfâșietor de trist și neajutorat… Apoi plânsul nostru… fără cuvinte.
Știam vorbele ce urmau să fie spuse, și eu, și ei. Neputința este mai dureroasă decât moartea.
– Sărut mâna, mamă… Sărut mâna, tată… Crăciun luminat și binecuvântat!
– Sa trăiești, draga mamei!..
O voce înecată în lacrimi, vocea dragă a tatei, nu a reușit să ducă pân’ la capăt gândul…
Undeva in cerul întunecat, plânsul amar al părinților mei s.a pierdut printre stelele mute.
Mama și tata… acești oameni buni care au trudit spre a trai, spre a mă ajuta sa trăiesc, se topesc fara mărturie, in pulberea drumului vieții.
Ne.am șters cu sufletul unul altuia lacrimile.
Hai, dragii mei, încă un an, va rog frumos 🌟.
…………………………………………………………………….At the Christams Eve’s window
I caroled my Mom and Dad by phone this holy night, as I do every year since I left. Last year I asked them with a smile:
– Do you accept carolers?
And they, happy, content, accepted laughing. But now …
For a few minutes only my voice sounded and, in the depths of the night, their silent, heartbreaking sad and helpless cry … Then our cry … without words.
We knew the words that were to be said, both me and them. Helplessness is more painful than death.
– Kiss your hand, Mom … Kiss your hand, Dad … Happy and blessed Christmas!
– Be well, darling girl!
A voice drowned in tears, my father’s dear voice, failed to complete the thought .
Somewhere in the dark sky, my parents’ bitter cry was lost among the voiceless stars.
Mom and Dad … these good people who worked hard for life, who helped me live, they dissolve slowly without witness, in the dust of the road of life.
We wiped each others tears away with the soul.
Come on, my only parents, one more year, for me, please…Maria Magdalena Biela
Joulurauhan julistus 2020
POSTED IN contemporary poetry December 25, 2020
Joulurauhan julistus 2020https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GM8M5TD4F5k
Maria Magdalena Biela
MERRY AND PEACEFUL CHRISTMAS FROM TURKU
POSTED IN contemporary poetry December 25, 2020
La multi ani, Mama!
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 10, 2020
La multi ani, Mama!Maria Magdalena Biela
ODINS IMPERIUM
POSTED IN contemporary poetry October 9, 2020
ODINS IMPERIUMWhen a genius creates a masterpiece and I find myself among those who receive THANK YOU on the first pages, I FEEL HAPPY, THANKFUL, HUMBLED, WORDLESS…
PROF. DR. BERND ROLING, UNIV. OF BERLIN, created this scientific treatise named ODINS IMPERIUM.I found with emotion my name mentioned among the most brilliant minds around him.
LEEVI MADETOJA was the greatest composer of Finland, in my heart greater than Sibellius who shadowed Madetoja. He was also the husband of the greatest Finnish poetess L. ONERVA.
I introduced Bernd to Madetoja 15 years ago and ever since Prof. Dr. Roling embalmed his tumultuos mind in the wonderful music of Leevi Madetoja…VIVAT! CRESCAT! FLOREAT!
Maria Magdalena Biela
Singuratate
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 11, 2020
PENTRU PAMANTUL DIN CARE M-AM NASCUT: ROMANIA….Mi-e drag si mi-e dor…Mi-s dragi muntii, mi-e draga Marea Neagra a adolescentei mele si anilor de studentie, mi-e draga Delta si Dunarea, mi-e drag tot spatiul acela mioritic care NU apartine nimanui prin testament…Acel pamant apartine Creatorului…Oamenii care il locuiesc temporar, il distrug an cu an, zi cu zi…Pamantul pedepseste adanc pe cel ce nu-l respecta…Pamantul nu uita, nu iarta, tace si asteapta ruina trupului omenesc…Cand nu exista SUFLETUL etern, TRUPUL este doar o carcasa trecatoare ce va fi hrana pentru viermii infometati ai Pamantului…Si Pamantul asteapta si vegheaza…El este etern. Acel Pamant dintre Carpati, Dunare si Mare a fost si este batjocorit…insa mare si grea ii va fi mania si pedeapsa…
MI-E DOR DE PAMANTUL DIN CARE MA TRAG…SUNT TARE SINGURA FARA EL…Oamenii rai care il distrug vor plati greu…
Ceilalti, PUTINII care sufera, cunosc si ei SINGURATATEA…Maria Magdalena Biela
HUMBLING
POSTED IN contemporary poetry April 22, 2020
HUMBLINGI wake up at 7.00 a.m. I drink my coffee, watching through the window the same lifeless street, the same trees still naked, same flats tall and covering my horizon, same portion of sky changing colors from dark to Light…Actually this is my only sign that hours pass and day becomes night, and night becomes day: the sky and its coloring…
Sometimes is the Moon: a quarter, half, full, and again…
Otherwise I feel like I am living and reliving the same day and night in a time-loop.
Soon the trees will become slowly green, so, here it is, another sign that time passes: the change of season.
After the coffee, I am in a sort of anxiety over to listen to the news or not. I choose not. I am done with the tears, the sadness, the fear.
I also fight over calling or not my parents. I am tired also to feel their tiredness, their nervousness, their intoxicating fear and fury.
Well, some days I call…actually every day I call. Aaaand after that I digest my frustration.
These days I talked with almost all my Facebook friends, especially my kids who live in the afflicted countries.
I feel an urge to beg them: “give me a small daily sign that you and yours are alive and well”…
Lunch. My appetite is lost. I eat something, I don’t care what, just to fill the void. I watch my husband and I know that he is also lost. Lost in this never-ending time loop, lost in this vastness of nothing and nothingness of vast.
Since march the 7th I didn’t exit the flat. It was a day to remember. I walked through the city with my husband not knowing that suddenly we’ll enter a loop.
My hair needed a change. I colored it myself.
My face needs the calming hands of a cosmetologist… my legs need to walk. In my time-loop it is a strangeness: I see time passing with my hair roots, my growing nails, my too rested legs.
I watch the ceiling. I watch the books. I am saturated with thinking.
This year, 2020, will be a non lived year. I shall remove it from the calendar. It may be as well still 2019, March.
I talk to my sister…she has a yard, at least something great.
In this loop it is heaven to have a yard, to be able to stay outside, breathing the Spring, watching the sunset and sunrise.
I can’t do even that: my windows are crowded by other flats, I see nothing but buildings.
I miss Crete, the sun, the sea, the friends I have there.
I miss being free. I am humbled by this unseen microscopical being which kills.
I took for granted every basic human right I had, blissfully, idiotically unaware that one cursed day time will stay still. No, time will pass but us, the humanity will be forced to stay still and feel the punishment of passing seconds.
I know how it started this 2020 but I do not know how it will end. Will I ever live in the same world? Will I ever hug my friends, travel freely, enjoy the nature, walk until I fall?
Perhaps not. Perhaps my hair will have to be shortened, like my nails, like my appetite for everything, like my list of well being happy friends, like my hopes, my expectations…
How does one exit a time loop? By learning not to repeat the same one wrong thing one kept doing? By learning the one wise good lesson one never learnt?
And if so, then what would that be?
Maria Magdalena Biela
Happy Easter 2020!
POSTED IN contemporary poetry April 12, 2020
Happy Easter 2020!
It’s Easter morning, outside a wild rain talks alone, angry, upset, hitting the window as if she’d like to come inside and hit me too. The flame of the candle humble yet bold doesn’t shiver: it knows better than to shy away from the rain… it’s seen worse than that… The chime of the bells, the Cathedral bells, usually would welcome every Christian to enter and take the Light of Easter and pray together for a better tomorrow. We watch through the window the crying heavens and we pray together, each window a silent prayer..no altar, no priest, no blessed bread and wine, only our souls, naked, shimmering like the Light of the candle, like the smoke of it. This is all we have this morning: some see the Light, some see the Smoke…and we all think of a prayer, and we all need a Kind Master to guide us all through the angry rain towards the Light…
From my window in Turku, Finland HAPPY EASTER to all!
Maria Magdalena Biela
CHOPINIAN LAMENT / BOCET CHOPINIAN
POSTED IN contemporary poetry February 19, 2020
CHOPINIAN LAMENT / BOCET CHOPINIANThis Autumn I mourn
the fear of a leaf
who paid to October
a fistful of days
to dye her hair
from green to fire
unaware
that the dyeing brings death.I mourn the nightmare of birches
who dreamt themselves fire
in the heart of Winter
unaware
that only becoming kindling
they will glow.I mourn the sadness of the grapes
who yearned for rosy lips kisses
unaware
that to be drank from a glass
they must let themselves be crushed.This Autumn I mourn
the despair of the Man
who searched for love
unaware
that she was his shadow
which he ignored
leaf by leaf
and tree after tree.
———————————-
BOCET CHOPINIANIn toamna asta bocesc
spaima unei frunze
ce i-a platit lui Octombrie
un pumn de zile
sa-i schimbe culoarea parului
din crud in foc
nebanuind
ca vopseaua aduce moartea.Bocesc cosmarul mestecenilor
care s-au visat foc
in inima iernii
nebanuind
ca doar devenind surcele
vor fi mistuiti.Bocesc amarul strugurilor
ce-au ravnit sarut de buze rumene
nebanuind
ca spre a fi bauti din pahar
trebuie sa se lase striviti.In toamna asta bocesc
disperarea Omului
ce-a cautat iubirea
nebanuind
ca ea-i fu umbra
pe care a ignorat-o
frunza cu frunza
si copac dupa copac.
Maria Magdalena Biela
PAST RESENT
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 17, 2020
PAST RESENTPowers below and powers above
He asked you to bring him me and my love.
He put a spell on me many lives past
asking for a love that will always last.He opened the mysteries’ dark heavy door,
He wanted to see what his Fate had in store.
He willed Light and Shadow intertwine with my mind
asking candles’ flame burn searching for me to find.In my sleep I felt his scent every night
and his fingers caressing my hair in dim light.
I missed him, the man I knew in my dreams,
when the morning life whispered: “it’s not what it seems”.I lived a whole life with my eyes opened wide
in my nights while sleeping with a ghost on my side,
he came to my world or I traveled to his.
I was no more myself. I knew what love is.I found the safe road for my chosen one
to come and to do what was long undone.
Truth, knowledge, feelings: it mattered not
all I wanted was him and this was all I’ve got.My true other self who made me feel whole
came one day and smiling gave me his soul.
I knew who he was. I breathed and I felt
the dark nights of senses and his dreamy scent.Maria Magdalena Biela
