Tuesday, August 3, 2021


when you dream
the beginning of a dream
and i dream
the end of the same dream
what is left
is for us to meet
so that the dream
is fulfilled

#poem #love #life #positive

Wednesday, July 7, 2021


Poetry is such a subjective literary genre that it’s often difficult to reach a conclusion about whether a collection is very good, difficult, obscure, or any of a mixture of reactions.

This assortment is by a poet whose first language is Romanian: whether English is his second language is unclear, but the standard of its use is higher than some I’ve experienced from native speakers.

All poems in this anthology are presented entirely in lower case and without punctuation, which makes them open to a number of interpretations. There are a couple of editing errors, but that’s hardly surprising, and they’re too few to be a cause of concern.

The emotional content is both wide and profound. I was moved by many of the pieces, entertained by all and amused by a few. This is poetry that speaks to the heart, that crawls under the skin, and insinuates itself into the mind and soul.

It’s not easy. But neither is it consciously difficult. It seems genuine and honest, and tastes authentic. Glad I read this.

Saturday, July 3, 2021

 Pentru lumea secretă, este o asasină perfectă. Pentru lumea obișnuită, este o respectabilă femeie de afaceri. Pentru lumea ocultă, este o terifiantă necunoscută. Pentru cei pe care-i vânează este o nălucă. Și acesta este doar începutul.


Tuesday, June 1, 2021

 the tightrope walker

the tightrope walker on a wire

today is the train

never to arrive

to its destination

he used to see the safety net

as an intertwining of knots

leading to so many directions

each direction with its own destiny

turn that way

or the other

between the rooftops of two worlds

this is how he saw it on that final day

the one acting as a tightrope walker

and the one everybody knew

and named as a clown

#love #life #positive #inspirational #Motivation

Saturday, April 3, 2021

 discrete inspiration

you used to sneak close

and would silently knock

at the door of my comprehension

we used to communicate easily

through the poem recited in the mind

one day though

you did not come anymore

in the corner where you used to stay

there was a note

i’ve never thought you could write

as instead of fingers

you used to have a conductor’s baton

you wrote

we had never met before

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Have you heard of Bucovina shepherd?

The Bucovina Shepherd Dog is one of the largest and most powerful rustic livestock guardian dogs and has strong guard dog qualities. It was developed over many centuries by shepherds in the Carpathian Mountains.

It is a large dog 65-78 cm to 68-80 kg, imposing, solid, well built, with strong bones and double fur.

 It is a very good watchdog for homes, properties and herds of animals. He usually patrols the properties he guards during the night. He is an excellent companion on the mountain, a pleasant pet who loves to play with children.

 They have been used since ancient times by Romanian shepherds. When it comes to temperament, they are very balanced dogs and guard their territory firmly.

Source wikipedia.org

Song Cântă Cucu-n Bucovina

Artist  Grigore Lese 

Licensed to YouTube by TuneCore, and 1 Music Rights Societies

Saturday, March 20, 2021


I am sitting on the platform and watch the trains pass without stopping. I do not know where 


they come from and I do not know where they are going either.


Or maybe they appear and disappear like fantasies. I have no idea what fantasies are and I 


don't think I want to know it, either.


When I see the railroad tracks, I think of the train as a pet tied up and walked on a leash, 


taken out of the apartment to move a little and do its needs.


I take the ladder and lean it against the faded wall of the building, soak the brush into the 


bucket of paint, and, with timid imagination, I name this station. A name made of white paint 


as large as it can be easily seen.


Not too long after that, a train with a single passenger wagon stops at the station. There is no 


a sign indicating the route of this train.


I somehow manage to get on the locomotive even as the train starts moving. It follows a 


previously established route, it follows the design of the railway tracks in a disciplined and 


rigorous way.


This train is captive between metal lines like a bird closed in an aviary. It needs freedom, 


infinite freedom because the essence of fulfilling the path is the miracle that overwhelms each 


of us.


I look up to the sky. I touch a star, stroke it with my hand, but when I want to taste it with my 


tongue, the star tastes me.


From there, from the greatness of infinity, I make the railway tracks disappear and I release 


all the trains from the depot sheds of the world.

#read #fiction #shortstory