Daniel Ionita
Daniel Ionita Poems
Like everybody else, Lorelei,
I was portioned a few destinies,
crammed one into the other,
according to some arcane
...
Her fate was hanging over her head like the sword of Damocles
such as it is sworn to each one of us - such as it will come to pass without fail at some stage.
She sat flabbergasted, frightened deer, stunned in front of the headlights of life.
'It is just a passing moment, a fleeting situation', I said, trying to soothe her.
...
I throw away the seconds, the hours, weeks, and years
and scant, the time is smiling with chubby roundish face
while hiding in betrayal those Gethsemane’s fears,
which in my feverish racket of youth I can’t embrace.
...
A mighty gladiator of this life,
I carry through the dark a wilted wreath -
like muddy kisses, hanging in the evening,
sewn by some crazy gods in hell beneath,
...
My words stick to you and I cannot strip them off anymore.
They stick to your body like a calligraphy thousands of years old,
laid down by a Chinese scribe from the emperor's palace,
who did not receive any more news from his sweetheart,
...
Like lilies on a grave, a dream in tears,
canary songs for weddings or for wakes;
dull waters fill the swamps and swamp the lakes,
if hope shall die, then gone be all my fears.
...
Why should I strap my seat-belt on, I pray?
I’m not in an airplane,
Nor in a car,
Not even in an ambulance, I have to say...
...
Remember the cannibals?
You were telling me to stay calm,
but those automatic cannibals
were hacking from my body chunks
...
My aunt Rodica's tomcat
never caught a single mouse
because
those mice were much more clever
...
My heart was left hanging between some stars,
from where hope was snowing,
lonely, towards the surface of the earth.
You were beside me and I was seeing you less and less.
...
Just give me your hand, Mona Lisa, and flee;
leave mouldy museums to quibble and moan -
the world waits outside, made of flesh and of bone,
with rain and with sunshine, with mountains and sea.
...
We're born entwined in agony and love,
Blind, helpless, unaware of all the fuss,
A mother's smile through tears is all we crave,
But the first cry is just "abide with us".
...
The children, oh those little darlings
are waiting for Christmas joyful and sprite -
oh! baby! my baby, my sweetie
let's slay Santa, slash his throat tonight!
...
It was toward the end of the summer holidays when he proposed to her.
They were riding their bicycles to the post office,
to a village some four kilometers away from her grandparent's place.
The old folk asked, or they might have offered
...
IWay back in nineteen eighty-seven,
decrepit and rained to the bone
I turned for a minute to whisper:
Hey Fifi! Leave my hamster alone!
...
Last night before your door, out in the cold,
My soul ablaze with a chaotic passion
My eyesight I would happily have sold,
For one sweet Open Sesame to fashion.
...
Slow afternoon with curtains drawn tight,
soft silky pillows, softer velvet slides,
low, lower still, then up again, so light...
A dream-like pose, yet far from sleeping tides.
...
I might be slow, but well worth waiting for,
the tortoise on your night gown whispered, low…
How long I waited, what was there to know,
remains our sacred, and mysterious, lore.
...
Psalm 24: 1
From whence I came I no longer recall.
Now I abide in a place with rocks and waves
...
Your star dance is sparkling the edge of horizons
with light adumbrations which guard your reflection
and lazily mirror the ocean’s expanses –
blind waters that cover your body’s perfection.
...
Daniel Ionita Biography
Daniel Ionita - short biography - literary CV Born in Bucharest - Romania in 1960, Daniel emigrated in 1980 to New Zealand (Auckland) and then to Australia. Living in Sydney, Daniel teaches Organizational Improvement at the Business Practice Unit of the Graduate School of Business - University of Technology Sydney. Studies: Bachelor of Psychology - Honors, Bachelor of Applied Psychology - Griffith University, Brisbane. Cultural activities - Australian-Romanian Academy for Culture Published works: 2012 - 2015 - Testament - Anthology of Modern Romanian Verse, bilingual version (English/Romanian) - Minerva Publishing - 2012 second edition in 2015. With Eva Foster, Associate Professor Daniel Reynaud and Rochelle Bews. 2013 - Hanging Between the Stars - debut volume of own poetry bilingual English/Romanian- Minerva Publishing 2016 - ContraDiction - poetry - bilingual Romanian / English - PIM Publishing 2016 - Bibliotheca Universalis Collection. 2017 - Testament - Anthology of Romanian Verse - American Edition - English only version Australian-Romanian Academy Publishing,2017. 2017 - An Island of Words from Home (Insula Cuvintelor de Acasa) - poetry volume in Romanian - Limes Publishing House. 2018 -The Bessarabia of My Soul - a collection of poems from the Republic of Moldova - Daniel Ionita & Maria Tonu (MediaTon - Toronto - Canada, with the support of the Australian-Romanian Academy for Culture) . 2018 & 2016,2021 - included in the Puncher & Wattmann Australian poetry collections covering both consecrated and emerging contemporary Australian poets - All These Presences (2016) , On first looking (2018) (editors Jean Kent, David Musgrave and Carolyn Rickett) , This Poem, This Gift (2021 - editors, Jean Kent, David Musgrave, Carolyn Rickett, Jen Webb. 2018 - Poetry Prize for 2018 in the Republic of Moldova for 2018 - conferred by the Literature & Art magazine, Chi?inau - Republic of Moldova 2019 - Translation Prize "Antoaneta Ralian" for translating Romanian literature into a foreign language - International Gaudeamus Book Fair - Bucharest, November 2019) daniel.ionita@lssbei.com dionita@optusnet.com.au WIKIPEDIA PAGE - https: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Ionita)
The Best Poem Of Daniel Ionita
Destinies
Like everybody else, Lorelei,
I was portioned a few destinies,
crammed one into the other,
according to some arcane
previously approved decisions.
These days I vaguely remember them.
In one of them
I was selling happiness to some tourists -
I was selling it as if it was some fairy-floss
from which they would take one bite,
and then throw it into the next rubbish bin.
In another one
I was some nocturnal clown
with long work experience
for the amusement of your body.
Then, from time to time
I would suddenly transform into a chubby Father Christmas
- always rushing and with a fed up attitude -
who 'd distribute toys made in China
to all those of a puerile, immature condition,
many of whom deserved
a back hand across their faces.
I was in fact doing exactly that
when their parents were looking away.
They would scream that
Father Christmas has hit them...,
but their parents would explain to them, patiently, that...
in fact, Father Christmas does not exist!
Often, I would wake up as a custom officer
for thoughts and dreams,
charging duty
for all sorts of high-volume subjective goods,
from prayers to palaver,
which were passing, planned or haphazardly,
through people's heads - mine, yours, everybody's.
I would stack them in a folder,
to be evaluated at the Last Judgement.
Finally, with the passing of time,
I was introducing myself
as a professor of calligraphy,
in a world where no one
was writing with pens anymore.
They were all laughing at me,
pounding on keyboards
monotonous and deadly keyboards.
Now, like all foolish lovers,
I see myself crushing into the rocks,
mesmerized by your voice.
I would do it again,
because through all these destines
I loved you.
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