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tearing the rag off the bush again
Alexandra Dumitrescu?s Poetic News PDF E-mail
Alexandra in New Zealand  

At the brim

At the brim of many a world
I struggle to love the words that hit
in the softest spot of a heart

torn between allegiances
dreams and love

at the margin of many a world
I drift pushed by the currents
of time

to the land where I do not belong
away from my country
which will never be


the right to sleep

I’ve earned the right to sleep

I’ve worked and played
and scattered my attention

I’ve loved and wasted love
lived and squandered life

and yet, have I achieved my end?

or need I start again and err
and whine over absent beloved?


The death of the unicorn

Strange dream or vision had I had
last night, before the morn
It seemed I was an infant red
that challenged monsters from beyond

and when the huge green thing appeared
as evil as an angered troll
a small meek horse came out of nowhere
to comfort and to save the mild

it pecked & licked my hand and face
with kindest love and outmost care
then sat on straw to rest and tend
an unborn egg of joy and dare

until a naughty child came near
curious to see the unicorn
and in his spite he shot
nocuous arrows of hate and fright

too hard to stand them,
in its love,
it chose to die, the lovely beast
the unborn egg - lost on the way
died, too, of sadness and of grief

and this unleashed the horrid beast
and soon it took the whole life over
leaving no hope, nor love, delight
all gone, but for a small red child


the socks

I felt as if wearing striped
sticking out  their bright colours
around my ankles
as glamorous
and noisy
aggressive and obtrusive
as elephant bangles
around squirrel ankles

then, in a revelation,
I realised
the socks were no colour at all
black as a soul
that absorbs all sorrows
and give out no joy

and I sighed with relief:
I was no different
my joy did not wake any dogs
nor did it shake any clumsy spirit
to life


The way to you

when i wanted to come to you
in the dead of night
the door was locked
and i sat and cried
on your concrete footsteps
blaming myself, this world, and life itself

when i wanted to die
you blunted the blade, stopped the car
and slowed my fall
and i sat and thanked you
and this world and life itself

covering loops unpredictable
my way towards you
has meandered through fears
of love and childish blunders
and yet, you've saved me
the embarrassment of fall

Instead of retaliation
you've awaited still
along the way

closer with each loop
you, most dear of all.


my fights

refined by fights with demons
and by loves
that lend their glamour
to the placid eye
my face takes on the luster
and the shine
that only angels' presence
does impart

for I have learnt by trial and in pain
that loves are better loved
if not yet owned
that times and people that have touched my heart
are there
to be loved
not to be owned


a scholar’s life

afraid it will disrupt your world
you flee from love, from joy and care

tenderly shutting in your chamber
furnished with thoughts and no despair

familiar with the books of life
with words of wisdom new and old,

you dream

you ask too little of a life
too generous with words and solitude.

and yet, on quiet  afternoons
you welcome noise and youth and care

disrupt your poise and solitude
come trickle joy on old despair.


non disperare. paradise news

The signs of love from you and them
the tokens of respect and care
the smiles and words, kind looks and joys-
so many tools to fight despair

so lucky to have met you all
my child and teachers, friends, parents and foes,
so grateful for the time you took
to teach me how to fight my woe

For every loving smile's a bead
lined up with avaricious care
along a thread of joy and grief
that lifts me from the direst 'mare.


 the undergraduate

a strange being that knows things in halves
but feels in doubles
bound by a name
to ignorance and hope
graduates to get jobs and leave profs alone

innocence of nymphet bodies
charm of youth
boldness of hormones
set up to change the world
before it is forgotten
yet gives it some momentum
 and some hope.


blessed time

I hasten to record the grace
lest I forget
the expanded time of  joy
before the dawn

when god and humans silently interact
to give some meaning
and forgive night's fall

as if with you

I woke today before the dawn
joyous as never before
as if with you
as if at home
as if in peace
woken by the first rays of love
before the dawn

joyous as seldom before
my heart was calm, serene,
and loving
simple, innocent
as if all things had fallen in their  places

and ignorance was just a dream

as if with you
silent as never before
at your feet


the terror of living on my own

no more excuses
not to face myself
no reason not to see
the daemons swarming in

living in little london leeds
in a mirror-covered room
blatantly visible
from all terrible angles
burning the candle of hope
while that of innocence
struggles to cope
day in, day out
that a friend would come
a human, flower, god
(or else)
to please appease the daemons
and reveal the angels
deep inside
and add the finishing touches
to the exhausting war
with my self


Of men and waves

There’s little to say;
they are the ripples of the sea
no one would bother write about
had it not been for their luscious
frolic games.
Of men and waves
better be silent
if in hope to understand


The music of the spheres
Is the silence
That sometimes I can hear
When I'm still
When tremulous desires
And ambitions,
When worries, fears and injunctions
And leave the mind and heart
Tired of battle
Abandon all or even lay the keel

With you

I advance slowly
With you as my guide
Painfully at times, penibly
Struggling to keep alert
Despite the murmuring of storms approaching
Still feeling safe
Because with you
Even when lost and gone
I am

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