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The Kind Way
Love comes easy. With gentle hands and apple pies.
Like a butterfly
over a sunflower. Just open your arms.
Close your eyes. Open your arms even more.
Feel the wind and the warmth and the sun.
Let them all sneak inside you. Feel the scent
Of the spilled blackberries basket in a crowded train station.
The blonde hair of a blushing Scheherazade at the opened window.
Colored voices from all over as scattered watermelon seeds
On a summer street. Violet grapes, fat and joyful.
Now open your eyes: love is on your steps.
It has always been there, waiting patiently, but you never had eyes for
it.
Treat it kind. Lose your being into another one to keep it.
Completely.
Breath in. deeply. Breath out. Relaxed.
Breath in: happiness. Now live: you smell like love.
Long before your calming eyes settled on my soul,
Comforting my
burning wounds,
I was too much of a wanderer, my gentle love.
Time stopped, as I’ve never thought it would:
The drop of sparkling dew stood still in its midway
Between the leaf and the grass, the wind rested
On a pear tree, waters stopped shivering and falling,
The clouds went still. I sat my heart in your palm.
Ever since, I got wiser, I’ve learned the voice of the silence
That surrounds us and routine vanished.
I lost myself in you and it was good.
I loved you in all the possible ways and it was good.
I loved you through the joy of the sun,
The dance of the rain on the bedroom roof,
The dirt on the ground and the whispering shells
Of the sea.
I saw you everywhere and felt you in everything.
You made my smiles and brought candlelight
Chatting in my life, that started sounding
Like a brought to breath out of tune, violin.
The beginning of your laughter. You cover me
In it, holding the tall
glass of red wine against your temple.
Like that, wrapped in your look,
I feel warm. I am your winter fire, and you –
Scenting as mountain pines, as sun and hay,
Your soft steps barely heard on the carpet,
You make me feel like home. ,,Don’t go”, you say,
Not begging nor whining, but mild and confident.
,,Do stay.”. And I stood. Over and over again,
Spring, summer, day and night,
Autumn and winter, rain or shine,
And I even forgot that that there used to be a time
When it was not like that.
I loved the moon even more reflected on your body.
It had the color
of a ripen pear and the same round shapes.
And by the time I thought I knew by heart all the curves
And the soft places, the line of your neck, the valley in between your
breasts,
your hips, the long legs, your body kept on amazing me: every time
it was like I was seeing it for the first time.
And I was touching you, hesitating; I could have touched you for
hours,
Taking all the time from the world,
Trying to find a gate to reach inside your soul and learn
The secret of your tenderness.
I felt it flowing through your fingertips down my back,
When, (after we made love and you cried and I hold you
Tight, so tight my love, to never let you go), I was putting on my
bathrobe.
And then you smiled. Shine. And stretched your young body
In the morning light.
,,Coffee ?” I ask you, laying over to kiss you one more time,
messing gently your already messed hazel hair.
,,No, darl. Just a cup of sun.”
I feel your fingerprint in this room: it scents
Like green quiet
chamomile and petals of melancholy.
The sun falls on the table, in between the plums,
The chair, and lazily lays on the carpet. With you.
Probably with his legs crossed underneath him, just like you.
Setting his eyes on the same book, just like you.
Caressing the wild hair spread on your shoulders,
Just like I do; you’re warm. Reminding me
Of lonely winter nights wrapped in a Hungarian Afghan:
As warm and as cozy, as to never go.
You look at me bright and questioning.
I make you room on the old couch.
,,Come here, my girl. Let’s wait for the sunset.”
And for tomorrow’s day to rise with us.
Have I ever told you how much I’ve missed you
Till the day I really met you?
Shy morning settled over my blue steamy coffee cup.
You reached me
from behind, covering my eyes
With your thin fingers, dressed up in silence
And hyacinth scent, your head up and a bright
Proud smile that took the shape of a song
The moment you said the words: ,,I am expecting a child.”
Then, the Truth revealed to me: you, blue love,
Have always been the key to the only door into Forever.
And I no longer felt like old Lear, standing,
Hand stretched for mercy; I had you to fill the void
From my arms.
And I was living again.
Friendly warming watermelon sun.
Bright sunflowers.
Large blue sky.
Soft evenings with lavender whispers.
Trees in blossom.
Sweet peach skin.
No sound at all.
This till the baby cry.
Then,
The world start spinning.
The Beginning.
The village
Then, at his strong arm
I met his country folk;
so dear for him,
the old peasants,
dirty or poor, the proud women which I've never
understood.
Till then.
Me, in an elegant scarlet dress,
I was
stepping through the rain as a queen, at his strong arm.
My clothes
were wet on my body and my shoes full with water.
And when I looked at
him,
I met a question mark on his face.
Smiling, I sent flying my
shoes, my barefooted soles went straight on the
grass, my arms rising
as long as they could, embracing the rain.
And, for the first
time,
my lungs were full with fresh air
and that helped me to have a
healthy laugh.
Then I met the village
that was calling my man as a spell.
I
threw away my long, yellow, green and red dresses,
so wearisome and so
many,
and I rested as Mary, as Ann, as Ellen,
in that lightly coat
that scents as field does,
as hay, as sun, as dew, as blossom
trees,
as ruby wine, as autumn,
as slender love.
The coat of
happiness.
Then, at his strong arm, I found my silence.
and my joy
entered the door, the window, the chimney,
as an unexpected Santa
Clause.
The joy comes from my depths, from our flesh and blood,
from
my bulging womb,
on which you put your ear every evening, and over
which you pass,
suspicious,
your palm, from my red cheeks,
from
my eyes that yell with joy:
"I'm going to have a child!"
The Fates
will gather around his cradle, where will fall leaves of
serenity.
Mary, Savete, will bring him as gift weight and ripen fruits,
ambrosia and
nectar,
yellow from the quinces, red from the apples,
orange from the pears,
the green of the youth and the blue of the
water. They will bring him the
wreath of their joy, the found way of
the travelers.
One day, from our strong arms,
he will raise, easily,
and he will
build his happiness.
Never a sand castle.
©
2002
"The year of my birth"
The year of my birth?
I don't know. I've forgot it.
But I do know
that at that time
the acacia were in blossom,
that the rains were
gentle and warm,
that it was peace between gods.
I do know that
then
the house was hospitable,
my mother was young and happy,
my
father was tall and young,
I know that then it was the year of their
love,
with white flowers of melancholy,
with storms of sun,
with
dance steps on the carpet.
The year of my birth?
The richest and
wildest,
the year with song,
the dearest year when you look
back.
© 2002
"To My Husband"
One first real summer evening in front of
the orange cafe, I told
you I'll be reading New York Times,
you'll recognise me easily, I do
have the step
of a blue elf dressed up in a green dress,
waiting for
the Sunshine.
Summer evening, empty tables around, no crowd,
silence. All the
riddles will get an answer.
Orange cafe, full moon, song of guitar,
something of Beethoven and
The Corrs,
strange combination, fitting us well,
promises, a green
sweater, an endless
cigarette smoke, voices of angels around us,
an
eternity seems not to be enough.
© Mandy
2002
THE FIFTH SEASON
Yellow pumpkin, flowing as honey,
Sacrificed on stretched
plates,
Tall and blue water glasses,
Chinese tea, scenting as apple
flowers,
Silence on the streets and in white chambers,
With cinnamon
and mulled wine,
Violin sounds and baby cry,
A round moon in
dressing gown,
Stars striking their eyelashes so often,
Pockets
filled up with serene adjectives
About yesterday, today and
tomorrow,
Wooden tables, rocking chairs in the sun,
Bread on the
kitchen range,
Books read more than two times,
Folded corners, old
ink,
Handwriting inclined toward left,
Black and white pictures on
gray walls,
Hours spent on country and mountain roads,
Long dresses
from slender words.
All these joined together
Turning into The Great
Puzzle of Life,
The Fifth Season.
© Mavi
2002
"Nobody says hello like the poet"
Nobody says hello like the poet
But I'm kind of tired now,
This
very morning, after a night
Of sleeplessness, Irish stories
and
dark-blue ink rambling all over
the paper, no light, only
candles,
my favorite scarlet gown,
my shadow laying on a
wall,
waiting for you with dinner
or with everything else,
while
I'm drinking the wine,
no drop must be left ,
then I start
laughing
I wait for you at the bedroom window,
Wondering, to jump or
not
In your arms, from the third floor,
Will you catch me, my
friend?
© Mavi 2002
"Wolf"
I am nothing but
a wolf's half.
Walking hand in hand
in the
rain, on the streets,
drinking wine
from each other
skin,
running
over country roads...
you taking me in your
arms
and throwing me
over your shoulder...
I was
laughing
aloud
as never before,
hitting your shoulders,
gently,
with my fists...
What makes me worthy of you?
I am nothing but a brown eyed
girl
watching you in the mirror
how you cross the palm
over my
womb,
eyes full of joy...
our child.
Sunshine
in my life...
hot coffee in the morning
hot blood
running through my veins,
words as melting honey
every single
second.
© Mavi 2002
"Ordinary Things and The Unexpected"
Ordinary things and the Unexpected
...there is always a nice way
to say it, there is always a second chance in
this world, there is
always someone waiting for you on the other side of the
door, smiling
or frowning, this is what makes us so full of life, the
unexpected
event...will I open my eyes tomorrow ? Will I dance with you,
again,
on that song, three times on the same day, in the same hour ? Will you
smile
back to me when I pour too much ketchup on my French fries...when
I'll tell
you
memories from the future, when I'll climb on the roof
as a child, waiting
for
you to open your arms and tell me:
"
Jump!"
...the unexpected...this is it, the nice way to say it. To jump
...where?
In
to the sky, rolling on some clouds...on the grass,
feeling the whisper on
your
so very delicate white skin, feeling
the sun warming your back, jumping into
the unknown, as into the arms
of a strange stranger you've just met, that
welcomes you as his God's
gift...and throws you back into life...your blood
flowing through your
entire body so fast you're surprised, you wide open
you're
eyes...and smile.
...this is how things are...I am here, you are by my side, both
feeling
alive
and young in spite of the burden of knowledge, we
kinda like it, now...my
beautiful mother still takes care of the garden
till that day when she'll
tell
Dad to hold her tight because she's
too tired....I'll still cook for you,
even
when I'll be ninety,
because I do it so damn well...you'll still love me as
in
the first
day, because I'm too lovable...I'll miss my dusty country roads,
the
old verandah, the way we cried together...I'll miss running with
you...
...when the unexpected will hit us...all, in a summer sunny day, when
will
hit
our laughter or fight, our caress or kiss...our
life.
© Mavi 2002 | 
