Daniel Ionita Poems
|2.||Black Butterfly Wings||5/26/2014|
|3.||I Might Be Slow (But Well Worth Waiting For...)||5/26/2014|
|4.||The Earth Is The Lord's||5/26/2014|
|5.||A Passing Moment||5/26/2014|
|6.||Walking On A Crystal Leaf||5/26/2014|
|7.||I'M Mainly Like Myself||5/26/2014|
|12.||Hanging Between The Stars||12/7/2016|
|14.||Abide With Us||12/7/2016|
|15.||Let's Slay Santa Tonight!||12/7/2016|
|17.||Like Lilies On The Grave||5/26/2014|
|18.||I Throw Away The Seconds, The Hours, Weeks And Years||5/26/2014|
|19.||Devoid Of Words||5/26/2014|
Comments about Daniel Ionita
My words stick to you and I cannot strip them off anymore.
They stick to your body like a calligraphy thousands of years old
layed down by a Chinese scribe from the Emperor's palace
who did not receive any more news from his sweetheart,
left somewhere in a village hanging in some distant memory.
In the meantime, the calligraphy of my words strings itself on your body
running faster and faster, flightier and flightier,
so that I cannot fathom it anymore.
Now and then I add a word, which hastily moves in a row between the others
but suddenly you put your index ...
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.
But even if I’ve offered a whole realm
There was no magic word to conjure out,
And I kept quiet, not to underwhelm;
Afraid to blather humdrum, like some lout.