whoever brought me here

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYtfoRw6lTo&feature=related

Happy Mother’s day !!!!

* All day I think about it , then at night I say it :

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing ?

I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.*
……………………………..Rumi……………..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqVBGv2hpQ4

Thanks  !!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhcA4Ry65FU

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verdele ud

• Cand ploua ,                     
• verdele crud
• se aduna
• din frunze
• si se limpezeste
• intr-o noua apa
• verdele ud.
• Se ridica
• in nori,
• plage
• si apoi
• se risipeste
• in lacrimi !
• picaturi de verde
• tare,
• inghetate
• se lovesc de cer
• se sparg in ploaie marunta.
• Verdele umple cerul
• si ochii
• arunca’n soare
• si’n  pietre
• si’n zile lungi
• si apoi cade pe frunze….
• verdele ud…
• j
• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYqcMOKF4qM&feature=related

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unsolved mystery

Edgar Allan Poe ‘ s birthday is always cause for weirdness – like strange black-clad figure who leaves roses and cognac at his tomb , but this  year , he turned 200 , and things are  getting more  intense .         

One hundred sixty years ago, the beleaguered, impoverished Poe was found, delirious and in distress outside a Baltimore tavern. He was never coherent enough to explain what had befallen him since leaving Richmond, Va., a week earlier. He spent four days in a hospital before he died at age 40.

For many writers and artists living  in the latter part of the 19th century , Edgar Allan Poe was must-read . Poe ‘s storytalling , dark themes and literary vision so intriqued Paul Gauguin , Odilon Redon , Edouard Manet , Henri Matisse , and other that they mined the American writer’s repertoire for inspiration for their own work  . They were inspired by Poe’s chilling and unforgettable tales . Poe’s impact on them and the  literary themes : love and loss , fear and terror , madness and obsession , from “The Raven ”  , “The Black Cat ” , ” The Tell- Tale Heart ” ,”The Pit and The Pendulum”

For Edgar Allan Poe, 2009 has been a better year than 1849. After dozens of events in several cities to mark the 200th anniversary of his birth, he’s about to get the grand funeral that a writer of his stature should have received when he died . ” Edgar , I haven’t forgotten You ”

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Multumesc ! dragii mei :)

 

• Tinjesti sa fii la fel.
• Si fiecare se  vede-n ochii celuilalt
• Altfel
• Doar in ochii mei sunteti
• La fel
• Dragii mei baieti
• Barbati
• Love4ever !
• mom

 from Tudor&Andrei with love !!

Cuvintele pier in umbra gestului ! Copilul meu drag , sa fii aparat de  toate relele acolo unde esti !!! Love4ever !!! mom

”  ….doar pentru ochiul strain, toate acestea ar fi poate dantele la perdeaua de miraj alcalin trasa numai peste stele…”

j.

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Miracole cu mult mai mari

 Numai aur si miere, October, a zabovit pana la uitare . Indian summer .  Aroma, belsug, culoare, funigei, veverite grasune, lene  , visare , toate   indesate in  cornul abundentei !

Spranceana  neagra a  norului a aparut pe neasteptate  , impins de  vijelia ce a  desbracat copacii de culoare si a gonit frunzele in bejanie.

E prima seara cand  fac focul in camin . Aroma trandava a caldurii ma aseaza in  ganduri . Pun pe camin o fotografie mica   abia sosita .  Ovalul ramei ,delicat, incadreaza un chip ingeresc .

Mi-am  cuibarit fiinta intre perinele  bosumflate ale batrinului fotoliu, ce-mi recunoaste forma , asa cum sufletul , ca un lichid, ia forma  trupului care-l contine…..

Ochii urmaresc cand  limbile jucause ale focului, cand mica  fotografie abia aparuta … nu stiu unde sa se opreasca . Doar  mainile, cuminti si fermecatoare, si-au oprit   zborul ca doua pasari obosite in  afganul ce-l impletesc cu  drag . N-au uitat arta impletitului , doar zabovesc un moment in   albul – roz al impletiturii si -si  spun…. vino tu, miracol al vietii…

Miracole  cu mult mai mari  ce vor sa vina… afganul  o sa incalzeasca piciorusele  acelui chip  de inger . In Germany nu  este ” indian summer”…  Cele doua  pasari obosite isi revin din  odihna…nu, n-au uitat arta impletitului – privesc la focul ce trozneste molcom in camin, incalzindu-mi sufletul  !

Sunt  binecuvantata ! de o saptamana sunt bunica !

🙂 j.

“http://www.youtube.com/v/tsJUCB1PCKM&hl=en“

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