A picture hanging on the wall, a desk and two black curtains
falling down to the floor;
The full moon hides behind rainbow clouds,
stories of that yesterdays' sun
written
metal sounds
and two drops of heavy dew.

... Sighs ...

I was circling your thoughts,
they were mine
to wonder about
and make them shine
all the way
through the spirals of our times.

... wishful sighs ...

A picture hanging on the wall, a flower on the desk,
two black curtains falling down
and up the full moon staring...
An almost hidden by rainbow clouds
love for that yesterdays' sun...

The two drops of heavy dew
are reflecting into the floor.

© All rights Reserved Theodora Oniceanu

Can you hear a falling leaf?
As it twirls and dances in the wind
On its slow descent.
Turning, moving, swaying.
Does it sound like tinkling music?

The water that awaited the end of its crescendo
pushes out in perfect spherical ripples.
Underneath the bright orange leaf
That sings the end of its journey
Destination reached.
Sweet relief.

And now it floats
along the slowly moving river.
Can you hear the water moving?
It’s as clear as the ethereal beings
That haunt us through our lives.
Smooth rocks and pebbles underneath
Paint a canvas of perfect calmness.
Greys and browns and whites.

Branches from the trees that used
To hold that darling leaf lean over.
As if trying to touch fingertips to the river
To test the water’s temperature
So as not to make their child uncomfortable.

And as you look toward the distance
You can just barely make out
That sweet, wonderful leaf…
With its tinkling music…
Fall over the waterfall.

Can you hear the leaf now?

there are few of us at the beach
some look at the sky and seem happy
others keep evanescent things under their arm
such as the turtle they caught at dawn
but as it gets dark
we become so sad
not even light can get to us
not even the photographer
who keeps ciphering out in a notebook
and moving us around
to make room for
Death in the picture

as a picture of me in your mind

I look at a woman's overall shape, if I look
on the surface at individual parts, I must
focus on that one that gives me the most pleasure.
With unknown women there is spontaneity.
To fall in love, I must recognize her every body
part as consisting of a whole being of beauty.
My hope in a woman keeps me interested in them.
Looking away from her does not reveal herself to me.
Another woman's stare divorces myself with the
previous beauty.  All that is left is my memory of her.
A woman's picture doesn't want ***.
She wants a man to trust, a man to love.
I thought I saw the golden pyramids of Giza
in her breast.
I thought I saw a horse's mane fall from
her head.
I saw bones like foundations of steel and concrete.
I saw a ***** as round as a balloon.
I saw not one piece of flab on her.
I looked at myself and said "How could are
union ever be?"
Maybe if she was Wiccan... maybe if she could
express her power over me...
Maybe if she really only cared about contemplation
of the heart, or the soul... or,  maybe if Jesus liked
interfaith marriages...
Maybe if we spent time together on projects...
Maybe if I wanted to change her beauty.

I wrote a note with your name mentioned
But deleted every word within a second
The feeling is long and drawn out
But it’s nothing aside the bigger picture
And much like a small city on this planet
It’s only feels larger when inside of it