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Irina BBota Feb 2020
They say the world is coming to an ending
and all of us will pay the ultimate price
for this land of chains that we’re often pretending
to be God’s garden.
We’re just throwing the dice.

They say the world is coming to an end
for we’re all like gambling thieves
playing around with demons. We all got
banned from beauty.
And the poor Earth just grieves.

They say the world is coming to an ending
for we’re planting guilty ignorance seeds.
Earthquakes, fires and floods are extending.
Earth is not a place to ******.
Poor baby, it bleeds.

Let’s stop making Earth a place in disgrace
by giving ourselves questionable pleasures and alibis
it’s time for new beginnings and a good human race.
For there’s not a dry eye in the world.
So… we need this compromise.
Sep 2019 · 253
Haiku 5
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Your shadowy eyes
Weeping waves of living lies
Silent abduction
Sep 2019 · 248
Haiku 4
Irina BBota Sep 2019
The grand opening
We are the everyday clowns
In times of Ego
Sep 2019 · 379
Haiku 3.
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Next to your footsteps
I feel like an outsider
An unwanted guest
Sep 2019 · 411
Haiku 2
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Arrogant sunset
Reveals Yesterday’s secret
Promising the Moon
Sep 2019 · 184
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Serenade tonight
The game of a frozen bride
Poisoning my heart
May 2019 · 153
Irina BBota May 2019
Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That the entire world is getting so ill?
I wouldn’t have thrown away the golden key,
I wouldn’t have taken that sleeping pill.

Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That he’s craving for a life that’s fair?
I would have brought a wave from the sea,
I would have helped him in his despair.

Why on earth didn’t you tell me
That he had enough of conspiracy and denial?
All he wants is just to be happy and free,
Not to be condemned without any trial.

Increased temperatures, sea levels rising,
Severe weathers bringing furious flood,
Antarctica’s ice is now downsizing,
In a few years all you will see, will be blood.

Now you all have to burn in the flame of the truth,
You think you’re honourable thieves by wearing a glove,
No one will be saved by the fountain of youth.
You just pay for the departure to the sky and above.
May 2019 · 101
Irina BBota May 2019
Forget the embrace of the unlucky time,
for it keeps your soul haunted down,
you'd give your last breath, it would be a crime
not wearing the crown of your town.

Forget being with one foot in the grave,
for you still have to dance the midnight waltz,
forget the footprints on your heart, be brave,
don't spend your days finding Life's faults.

Forget the twisted tears that fell,
forget about playing the Russian roulette,
forget about going to funerals in hell,
forget about smoking another cigarette.

Forget the solitude that is so loud
because of the ashes thrown out to the sea,
forget the bluffing rose and make me proud,
that's the call of vengeance that sets you free.

Forget people that are digging in your soul,
but not the woman that gave you birth,
give her love, respect, for this is the child's role,
for we're not gonna be for long on this Earth.
May 2019 · 156
Irina BBota May 2019
I said Yes to laughter and joy,
to Life that I really want to enjoy,
to the charming power of trees in bloom,
to my soul-mate, soon to be my groom.

I said Yes to the creature in the mirror,
to the naked night that seems nearer,
to the unseen colours of Tomorrow,
to the star that's born from its sorrow.

I said Yes to the quietest thunder,
to your unforgettable love and wonder,
to your heart which is like an open book,
to the chance that I don't regret I took.

I said Yes, even if my head was spinning,
because everything in life's about winning,
you're a winner if you throw the golden dice,
I took my chance, I didn't think twice!
Apr 2019 · 310
Irina BBota Apr 2019
Are they snowballs down in hell
or just fire, smoke and heat?
I must live forever in my shell,
solving the matters of your deceit.

You put my feelings in the shredder,
wearing that silly mask of Cupid,
I'm guilty. I should have known better.
You're Evil in disguise, and I'm so... stupid.

You were feeding me with charming lies
about how your Sun is kissing the snow,
you made me walk away two thousand miles,
now I don't live at home anymore.

We should stop playing this blame-game,
and don't hide behind the shadows of a traitor,
the loneliness is whispering now my name,
believe me, you will thank me for this... later,

when your raven years will bring you wisdom,
you'll sit and have your morning breakfast,
you'll make confessions to God's kingdom,
only then you'll triumph over Life's tempest.
Jan 2019 · 544
Irina BBota Jan 2019
Who in this world is the dearest without a crown,
and takes great care of us when we're ill?
Her gentle glance calms our demons down
and in tough moments encourages our will.

Who has the blond hair of late and gray autumn
to whom we owe thousands of poems of affection?
She has the bluest eyes, that never will be forgotten,
teaches us how to always win and perfection.

Who is the joy that surrounds us every time we blink?
Teaching us the love for books, country, and nation,
she tells us that the stars know everything we think,
she helps us to fulfill our dreams, without hesitation.

Who has the mouth like a rosebud in bloom?
For she was hurt so many times in her struggle,
she comforts our anger, our anxiety with her perfume,
even if her life is continuous adrenaline and trouble.

Who has the smile like after the hot summer rain,
even if this creature is wearing the eternal burden
to be the teacher of our lives, over and over again,
although she's overseas, of her love we're certain.

Who's the psychologist in our moments of dilemma?
There is no time for herself, not even for a short break,
with tears in her eyes, never complaining, she's a chimera,
she gathers all the concerns that worry her, all the ache.

Who loves us unconditionally, no matter what?
We are her frisky angels day by day, we are her shade,
we capture her eyes swollen by crying, but
her soul is agitated, strong, and she's never afraid.

Who is the strongest, but for herself, never?
The pressure is always colouring her thoughts.
She follows her own imperfect destiny, however
she's the architect of love, not for profit, but for loss.

Who wouldn't want to radiate of quiet and peace?
She does not. She does everything in her own way.
She's the picture of endless love that will never cease,
answering to our millions of questions every single day.

Who is the sea nourished with tears of longing? I admit.
When we think of her, we get hot chills, I can tell.
We love her, for we don't know the way not to do it,
without her, we would be voiceless in our own shell.
Jan 2019 · 187
Irina BBota Jan 2019
I feel so dizzy seeing
the dancers in the square,
their shadows are flying
into a royal dimension,
like they are some riders
of the eternal flame,
the eclipse of doubt is
no longer in my attention.
Their eyes are speaking some
exotic and tropical truth,
that no one could ever
really understand,
they are like saviours
in the moonlight,
I'm impressed by their youth,
like paradise phantoms, in front
of the chaos, they never bend.
It's like going through a fine portal
into the arena of a ******,
where the hands of the virtue
are touching the house of arts,
she's the heiress,
she's our destiny's surgeon,
blowing away the storms
from the paradise of our hearts.
It's like we all gathered
in a fiery reunion
in which victory rises
from the empire of dance,
the pattern of the wind and
clever masks are in communion,
melting this silence
in a memorable romance.
Jan 2019 · 251
Irina BBota Jan 2019
Don't want any songs of a gun,
don't want to hurt anyone,
don't want any endless run
no more. I've had enough. I'm done.

No more indomitable tease,
no more spirits in chains like these,
no more falling on our knees,
don't want any war, no more, please.

Don't want any debt to the danger,
don't want a family picture with me as a stranger,
don't want to be haunted down by a ranger
no more. This is major.

No more unreasonable favours,
no more not knowing the food's flavours,
no more fighting with the neighbours,
don't want any more bodies arranged in layers.

Don't want any legion just for feeding my pride,
don't want any more crossroads inside,
don't want my happiness to be denied
no more. Too many people had died.
Jan 2019 · 723
Irina BBota Jan 2019
I left my thoughts on the pillow
and started waltzing on the carpet barefoot
just to see that wicked smile of yours
while the cloud's throwing out its soot,
making alliances with the purple storm,
unwelcoming the beauty of the darkness
the one between the stars,
keeping us in the fortress of unfulfilled dreams,
leaving us all behind stainless steel made bars.

I left my thoughts on the pillow,
the bedroom sins remain in the night,
your kiss has left all my senses in turmoil,
for I was and I am a very old soul inside.
Charmed and crowned by Madame Tempest,
looking for a bone of guilt,
expecting the unexpected at a wedding's breakfast,
a brilliant book of menace she has built.

I left my last thoughts on the pillow,
and then I left the other dark half of mine
that annihilated this restlessness from my soul.
Now I can shout out loud: I'm alive!
Dec 2018 · 180
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Ask the sun why it's so yellow,
and drops gold through my bare arms,
among bunches of white clouds as a
powder of the blue sky above the farms.

Ask why the water had just been pumped
on the fields, thirsty for green, and then
it turns into an embroidered silk skirt
balancing the years of clover's petals again.

Ask my arms why they have opened
to embrace the wind blowing through my hair
and gives to the forests green, silent lungs,
to beat the time that shows us a truth that's rare.

I know, one day our skin will have wrinkles
like the bleached petals, spoiled and faded,
and our youth will disappear between the walls
towards the nightfall with a lot of love invaded.

I know, even our brain will erode one day
like caves sculpted by the water that's thin
and will wipe out the crucial parts of us
to make room for things that are about to begin.

But... although our bodies will decompose,
they will rot right next to each other,
surviving the apocalypse that will convince us:
that our life was not a lie... but a wonder.
Dec 2018 · 163
Irina BBota Dec 2018
sins in a suitcase
the revenge and betrayal
building false houses
Dec 2018 · 162
Irina BBota Dec 2018
If your brown eyes because of my longing would weep,
it would leave on your soul black traces of mud,
I would fly like a hungry bird, I could not sleep,
from my blue eyes, the sad tears would grow in a flood.

If your palm would look again after my warm body
among the grass that is crushed under horse hooves,
the crystal of the night's skyline would give up its hobby,
on a curved field it would show you its moves.

If your ears would miss my voice in the summer breeze,
on the gravel of the path, among the crystalline rain,
you would hear the wind screaming among the trees,
your heart would beat faster, to relieve you from the pain.

If your lips would be kissed by my tear surprisingly shaped,
you would think that you are at a date in the sky's empire,
from the house of soul, even the verbs would have been escaped,
the vows would no longer burn like an intense fire.

But wait! An angel comes and your spirit will lighten up
in a world where things don't get old and die anymore,
to lure up beginnings that crowns our love, it'll be a new start-up
for us to be two stars uniting their destinies like before.
Dec 2018 · 153
Irina BBota Dec 2018
When I shall pass the threshold of non-life
I shall be swept away by a soothing confusion.
I shall be a tamer of souls, a fearless wife
who shall sleep in the shade of a blooming illusion.

When I shall close my eyes for the last time,
don't get sick with black sadness, if you please.
Think that there was a girl not committing a crime
by speaking tenderly to your heart, on her knees.

When I shall sleep my dreamless dream
I shall stop from everything, invaded by a chill.
You shall find broken lines of mine in a song-theme
about our hearts beating in unison, as a thrill.

Don't let yourself be overwhelmed by the pain
and the chaos that might install into your heart.
Sip eagerly the air that covers the silence in your reign,
for I know, one day we will give our lives a restart.

We shall continue then together our afterlife,
we shall be able to look through the truth.
The time of rinsing dreams will be sung by a fife,
for renewing our vows and regain our youth.

There shall then appear colourful stripes on the sky,
the world shall think they are shadows of the past.
Overwhelmed by delusions they shall say goodbye,
for we shall be reborn, this time our love shall last.
Dec 2018 · 157
Irina BBota Dec 2018
There's no one on the streets...
Just him and the Moon,
a few stars, now paying in advance
to Heaven for leaving him alone,
tonight... no one cared about him.
But, although the morning air is chilly,
he feels light, not like in the pain's fortress,
on his own, listening to his own silence,
waiting for her to come back...
for sleeping together the immortality.
For the soul speaks to him
of unblemished paths
when his eyelids go down
into undisciplined dreams.
Then, through the sound of a guitar,
the Moon whispers about a hungry love
that announces his longing.
The heart sings its sorrow in trembling poems,
he listens to the rhythm of the crazy whispers.
Swinging through some lyrics and music in his ears,
thinking of her, as he lost his soul mate.
He's watching the night loving the shiny stars,
missing her lips, how she gave him ephemeral kisses.
He wants to know that he still has wings
and the right to fly again,
don't let him leave from the wonderful life's scene!
Dec 2018 · 313
Irina BBota Dec 2018
And fly with me into the world of mystery,
into a proud, poetic and passionate dance,
feel the freedom in the tango's victory,
dancing sincerely, your body melts in this trance.

Whisper to me in syncope, in a sweet tone,
in spasmodic, elegant moves in this romance,
while the eyes sparkle like a diamond, for they own
the passion in this extravagant, vivacious dance.

Touch me in this poem full of rhythm and sensuality,
stay with me under the spell of the imaginary space,
losing ourselves in the exchange of signals, we have the key
to change the steps  and move with irresistible grace.

Paint the unknown again on my naked shoulder
with your lips craving after my sweet kiss, it seems,
cover me with your entire palm, bring me closer,
make me a bedding in the land of foolish dreams.

Feel my pure madness in this rhythmical speech,
resonating, vibrating together, for one last dance,
don't look down, but breathe my air and you'll reach
the top of the Eiffel-tower in magnificent France.
Dec 2018 · 251
Irina BBota Dec 2018
An angel fell with his wings broken, amidst the heroes,
from his mouth, words sounded like true diamonds.
Wherever I look, through open doors or windows,
I'm looking for you, but you... are no longer among us.

You flew with us for a while, but you've reached another world,
the angels can now ease our pain and keep you safe.
They told you to leave this earth, with your destiny curled,
people full of tears now are digging your grave.

Now we have bitter rain in our hearts, and so much grief,
candles will light up our evenings in our sight.
With eyes in tears, we ask for the divine relief,
it's the day when the stars fall, there is no longer light.

We will wake up from the shadows of the night
to see your innocent image printed in the sky and calm.
It's not fair. But maybe angels think that this is right,
your face, your smile will always be our balm.

Your very own being was a wonderful music and poetry,
the angels say that your soul by them has been kissed.
I can't read words about you and not being hurt, I agree,
may God rest you in peace! You will be sorely missed!
Dec 2018 · 388
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Have you ever felt the rain on your cheeks
smelling like a burgundy rose in the sunlight?
Or the fear that drives away the fire for weeks
from your soul, brought by the zephyr of the night?

Have you ever read the unwritten letters
with the wandering feather of the folly,
about the predicted destinies in sweaters
and the voiceless hearts who forget to remain jolly?

Have you ever seen the floating married couples
searching for their star in the clouds, up in the sky,
how they are looking for dizzying touches and chuckles
while writing their love on white sheets, in the hot July?

Have you ever heard the sharpened words,
the ones with hidden or multiple meanings,
how the blind hopes are torn apart by swords
bringing up bitter enigmas and bad feelings?

I did. I felt all of this. I've seen all of this.
How I was smashed in million pieces by the pain,
and yet, I believe Life will give me another kiss.
It'll get better one day, even if it's trying to rain.
Dec 2018 · 326
Irina BBota Dec 2018
There are moments when inside you is so wintery cold,
your night's secret is flipped over by the death's perfume,
you are in a turn, at one last intersection, but you're old,
wanting to **** the sadness, to let life once more bloom.

There are moments when you are so full of desire,
your destiny seems so cruel and you don't have the will
to heal your dark thoughts, the gloomy fears are on fire
but the cross, you have to carry it on your shoulders. Still.

Moments in which you spice up with nothings your existence,
you're satisfied with dead souls, with the remaining crumbs,
you run to the silence of the crying willow tree, for assistance,
you look at the mad fire from heaven... life hurts, death comes.

Moments when you're in front of the execution squad
without having one more chance to one last discussion,
you think that life is a mask worn in Venice, that it's a fraud,
the sky seems like a wallpaper of demons in combustion.

There are also moments when you want to start over,
to turn the book of anxiety into a beautifully painted panel,
you decide to meet your shadows in the valley of a loner,
thirsty for air, for life, you decide to change the channel.
Dec 2018 · 455
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Maybe I hear the silence of the stars on the arch of my heart,
maybe you'll sail on waves of agitated times, keeping us apart.
Maybe the bird's chatter is resounding, whispering my name,
maybe you'll travel through dark shadows, playing Satan's game.

Maybe every dream in life begins with a romantic dreamer,
maybe Love is sleeping its hard, tormenting sleep of a redeemer.
Maybe you wander in my thoughts, and I, through your mind,
maybe we strip off from our emotions without being fined.

Maybe my heart is singing for you on high musical notes,
maybe my nights became days on the instrumental boats.
Maybe I'm a human who has many tattoos on her soul,
maybe in life, I went through storm, agony, without any goal.

Maybe my expectations are limping in front of the endless fears,
maybe life's harshness is pushing my burdened shoulders in tears.
Maybe your sweet soul wants to speak to me in gentle words,
maybe my fate will take-off on its flight, resembling birds.

Maybe I will not tear any page from the big book of my life,
maybe I'll forget the past and look at the good parts, without a strife.
Maybe life has no subtitles at all and perhaps I need a dream,
maybe to give me an illustration about how it's like in heaven's team.

Maybe your soul is searching in me just a sweet isolation,
maybe the reality is another and with us in a long litigation.
Maybe we are just simple actors in life's longest play,
maybe we should be more careful and don't forget to pray.

Maybe I feel my legs strongly tight up, with no chance to run,
maybe I don't want any help, or to be indebted to someone.
Maybe I want to measure the happiness in tiny short moments,
maybe I'm tired of receiving just words and compliments.

Maybe the smile of your heart gives to my soul a new chance,
maybe I need a bit of courage to accept another avalanche.
Maybe in my soul, I feel like dying, because maybe I'm in love,
maybe I feel more, but I'm afraid to admit all I've written above.
Nov 2018 · 378
Irina BBota Nov 2018
Come on, darling, let's get old together,
let's braid ourselves a wreath from shy flowers,
for just next to each other we could be winners,
to the destiny, we are now indebted to.
For thousands of hours.

Let's never be lame with our feelings,
let's gather them into a fine globe of crystal,
let's live now to the fullest our grand moments,
let's raise our love on the proud pedestal.

Let's resist the bad and ugly weather of life,
by painting the walls in a magical arch of the rainbow,
for your cheeks to be coloured by love, as my wife,
to our eyes, the passion has to give it a glow.

Come on, honey, let's hold each other tight,
let's cancel the bad and censored emotions,
let's not pant in the slime of regrets, but fight
the destiny and just breathe slowly our youth.
And live our kind of truth.

Let's not pretend that everything is by the chance,
for I know that we have not been randomly chosen,
let's set up bridges of clear thoughts by our dance,
it's the only way we can cross the past's ruins.
Let's leave it frozen.
Nov 2018 · 303
Irina BBota Nov 2018
A little bit of reality and a little bit of chimera,
I'm sitting at the table of silence, lonely in this era.
My eyes are fixed on the ceiling like some projectors
towards sweet memories, listening some lectures.

It's a little bit early and it's a little bit late.
About yesterday or about tomorrow should I say?
Anyway, I'm not anything I seemed to be,
I'm not a brave Cupid of hearts that sets you free.

I feel a little bit cold and I feel a little bit warm,
like after the wine that makes everything have a form
which catches fire quickly both in love and anger,
motivated by infinite agony, searching for an answer.

Is that a little bit important, or is it a little bit trivial?
As a sparkle, a living heart of a strange ritual,
in which it seems for her of love to be unworthy,
then she looked in the mirror and learned about mercy.

My words have a little bit of sun and a little bit of storm.
Even if they're telling the ugly truth that wants to inform
that I want to hear enchanted songs of the waves again
but then I think, is my soul lying to me? It's going to drain?

The soul separates all and puts everything together,
even if it's a healed heart, or light as a feather.
Makes a little bit of damage, then something useful,
if it was sad sometimes, it was always truthful.

Doesn't matter if it's on Mondays or Sundays,
we all are an amalgam of tears and smiles in this maze.
Smiles that are hiding, then show up again and again
sometimes as a rough illusion that drives you insane.

Yes, it's a little bit absurd, but it's a little bit ordinary.
Not everything in this world is a cake with a cherry.
We all have inside a little bit of love, a little bit of hate,
as tough as it is, we accept that this is our fate.
Nov 2018 · 169
Irina BBota Nov 2018
When your life is covered with many clouds and leaks,
when the frost of the winter causes you cold creeps,
when you pass through the world turning both of your cheeks,
just smile and forgive!

When the brightness of the sun makes you blind,
when the world just laughs at you and they are unkind,
when anything you do, there is always gossip behind,
just smile and forgive!

When you run into the night or the storm with only one shoe,
when you seek for a soul to divide yourself into two,
when you want to feel in the morning the sun and the dew,
just smile and forgive!

When all your life you just wait until the night falls,
when you regret your own life, seeing that nobody calls,
when you want to hit your head to the thick walls,
just smile and forgive!

When you have memories that hurt, that's a bloomer,
when you think they never die, later or sooner,
when you can look at all of them with a kind of humour,
just smile and forgive!

When outside is complete silence and for life you are able,
when the moon rises, almost divine and you feel stable,
when you see the glass is half-full on your table,
just smile and forgive!
Nov 2018 · 2.2k
Irina BBota Nov 2018
I look in the mirror and I'm talking to myself
about how I can not let anyone touch my heart.
For you have gone and have not looked back yourself,
you threw my gentle heart into the bin. Tore it apart.

I wanted to shout: Love, do not leave me here alone!
Don't hurt me and leave traces of blood in my heart!
It doesn't matter that I once loved you, now you're a stone.
I resign. Maybe I wasn't a good candidate. I wasn't smart.

I was waiting for you for a lifetime, but was all in vain, for both,
in time you showed me your true face, by the way you kiss.
For I don't give away my spirit to whom makes an oath,
but to the one who'll give me a hand down in the abyss.

I looked in the mirror and all I saw was an error in two,
unanswered questions in different colours of a war.
If it's a monologue or dialogue, I'm not staying in the queue,
anyways, I don't believe in the beautiful Aphrodite anymore.
Irina BBota Nov 2018
I am an Ego
whose heart is revolting,
who with the poetry is flirting,
who knew in this life the pain,
but never lost the power of her brain.

I am an Ego
like anyone else who has complexes,
who dreams at perfect morning's reflexes,
who breaths deeply and tries to sing dearly,
but knows both sides of her life's story, clearly.

I am an Ego
who likes the good evenings in two,
who no longer wants rain, that's true,
who left on life's trip with a single backpack,
but has not allowed her soul to become insomniac.

I am an Ego
waiting on the platform for destiny's train,
who no longer wants illusions in vain,
who does not live listening to the rumours,
but wants, by poetry, to get rid of life's tumours.

I am an Ego
who thinks that still has a chance to complete,
who, after falling, is getting back on her feet,
who is the observer of the world's fuss and art,
but still hopes for the calm of her restless heart.
Oct 2018 · 195
Irina BBota Oct 2018
I close one eye, but with the other, I see everything bright,
and I'm telling myself “let's move on", let's try my luck"
with a smile like a curve that makes everything right,
I'm not allowed to scream, to cry, or to get stuck.

For whatever path we choose in life, the truth or the lies,
we all pay a certain fee, it will rain on our shoulder,
and even if we don't get there, we don't dramatize,
we travel with a restless soul, like a solitary soldier.

We cry rivers of tears in our pain, seeking for our spirit,
we wear coloured masks, between war and peace,
from life's teachings, we build a bridge, we don't quit,
and wandering, we cross it, as long as our heart beats.
Oct 2018 · 99
Irina BBota Oct 2018
She was staring in vain at the corner of the ceiling,
being threatened by a terrible insomnia,
her soul now feels like a big rock peeling
and she thinks: why wasn't meant to be, this euphoria?

Overwhelmed by a misunderstood sadness, guessing,
she is trying to gather a bunch of good thoughts,
praying for the happiness to give her good blessing,
for the fate not to take revenge anymore with its knots.

But then, a slight fatigue shadows her eyes
she remains petrified and breathless,
her cold hands, she keeps them tightened in disguise
and falls down above the paper, senseless.

No, she did not die. Nothing happened. Really.
Just her forehead lost its light, her eyes are absent,
nostalgia is reappearing, as a good old friend, freely
in the sanctuary of love, the demons are present.

She would've preferred for this to be just her imagination,
and the fear that devours her soul, would go away,
leaving deep scars on her with the life's delusion,
but no. She is not any wiser. She just wants to stay.
Oct 2018 · 84
Irina BBota Oct 2018
Beyond the heat of the soul,
the sky was full of clouds
clouds running one after another,
eternally traveling
like the sons of the sublime, wasteful
looking for the hidden star in the thrilling trap.
They were looking for their way
through the questions, begging
with a wise sadness, remaining indebted to me
with some suave whispers until the dawn
leaving behind only echoes to the devouring soul.
It was a late autumn evening
with colourful nature music
with a pale light on the streets
suffocated by traitorous people
leaving a mist of words between me and life,
escaping sometimes...
escaping from the clouds of clandestine thoughts,
waiting for you to come down.
And you came!
Irina BBota Oct 2018
I had nothing... but my eyes painted with tears,
broken wings of so many passions and dreams,
petrified in overwhelming, ruthless silence,
torn by the screaming thoughts from the islands.
I had nothing... than infinite fear
to change my life, like I'm changing the gear,
stumbling in my own dreams with unbounded laces,
running on the road of sadness I left a few traces.

I have nothing... than my fiery heart that's blazing,
I have the relentless frowning in my judgment while racing.
It fills the gap between my soul and thoughts, one or two,
but I can not help it ... I lay my love in front of you...
because yes... I choose to love you like no other,
I dress my heart with the colours of your endless summer.
I may be a dreamer, but you brought me to the ground
from the living stars that I might have found.
Blow my heart now, so that it never hurts wearing the crown,
until the sweet death gets my eyelids to come down...

I'll have nothing... if I don't have you from the start,
I will have nothing... but a deserted heart
pulsing abnormally, pounding so fiercely, I will suffer,
but I know that you and I are destined for each other,
we just have to trust love, time and have much patience,
we have to want more of the burning dreams and sensations,
to dare to breathe through emotions the love of this century,
for our children to carry on our name and our memory...
Irina BBota Oct 2018
It should smell like trees with white pearls,
who cuddles the horizon with their gaze,
but the forest has grasped its grey curls
beyond that, only you could be my praise.

And it still smells like frozen soul and frost
looking for its mate on the sky's notice board,
guessing from its whispers the dreadful lust,
dreaming of true embrace they can afford.

It should smell like diffused, scented candles
like the peace-making dreams split into half,
carrying us on the shy path that handles
through sealed mysteries that makes you laugh.

But it smells like sorrow in which tears are hurting,
like thorns in the petals and the taste of bitter lemon,
longing for emotions and sweet words flirting,
oh, if we could say, "I've died and got to heaven!"
Irina BBota Oct 2018
The moment you have decided to leave
and take all our memories with you,
lightning of cold chills crossed my grieve,
leaving flood and emptiness came through.

I refuse to think we're like two autumn leaves
and the time came to separate from the tree,
I just look in the blank reminding our beliefs,
the crazy nights, oh, how beautiful it was to be free.

I still love you, but it seems like it's not enough,
you are scared, therefore you preferred to run away.
Tell me that the hot vows were not just a bluff,
that from your life you don't shut me out today.

I keep writing, at the risk of getting ridiculous,
but you ignore me, retreating in absolute peace,
not knowing that in life everything's miraculous.
I'll hide my tear on a sheet, in a bottle and... release.

I'll throw the bottle into the sea, for one day you find it,
and you remember the touch that filled us with fire,
with my heart within you, you'll come back to admit
the rewrite of the script of our lives, we'll hold each other tighter.
Irina BBota Oct 2018
I love you in silence in the sleepy mornings of Monday,
wanting you to drive my tear away, without any commitment,
our hearts are still cracking like hot pieces of charcoals,
our lips being deliciously flavoured as strawberries and mint.

I love you on Tuesday, even if I seem insensitive,
lost in a labyrinth, like an insecure, capricious pseudo-child,
you take me flying up to the sky, in a charming idyll,
carrying me in your arms in an incredible adventure and mild.

Time... seems like slipping through our fingers on Wednesday,
enduring the words, the rhythms of my lyrics in the background,
singing our love even if we're crawling on the frenzied fields,
we make vows for better and worse, for always to be around.

Thursday doesn't forget anything when we are both together,
your magic hands, your shy eyes are pulling me back
to gather our hearts, to know that one plus one makes two,
looking at the horizon, to the fusion of colours, not the black.

I love you, you love me... we love each other until Friday,
as one body, one soul without any given restraints,
we know that our hearts belong to us more than yesterday,
your whole life, you put it on the tray, without any complaints.

I love you enormously on Saturday when I'm spoiled,
when your kisses have a hallucinating flavour on my lips,
radiating strongly, with a sacred and stubborn passion,
with an excess of emotions that are never lying to the eclipse.

I love you anyway and anytime, especially on Sundays,
passing through the thin border of my everlasting diary,
feeling that shake of a thrilling desire, a unique experience,
that you... make me feel like I am your fiancee, eternally.
Oct 2018 · 265
Irina BBota Oct 2018
Under the night's breath, I watched the butterflies on the wall,
remembering in silence my long-gone years of youth
when my wings were fully-coloured as the rainbow in fall,
and the world still believed in honest love and the truth.

Thousands of butterflies, they knew how to keep a secret
counting moments, not years, giving us so much emotion,
continuing their dream on St. Valentine's wings, they don't quit
extinguishing my thirsty soul with the waves of the ocean.

Where are you, where is the pure love from yesteryear?
Flying from flower to flower, where did you leave your legacy?
Do you want to settle in my raven hair like a hairpin
or you want me to be the only scenographer of your jealousy?

You're not a butterfly unless you get rid of the moths of the past,
if you do not solve the life's equation with many unknowns.
If you still believe in mute gestures that are growing fast,
let's decorate the night together with the love in our bones.
Oct 2018 · 228
Irina BBota Oct 2018
I know that... it's never too late for anything, ever,
I could be the angel who would wear for you the white dress,
for every day to be a magnificent delight and endeavour,
in black storms, we could be each others sun, more or less.

With you, I'm convinced that I could drive away the fear,
I know our love is the only chance to prove to ourselves
what we already knew, but we soon realized, dropping a tear,
that we fell into the trap of addiction to love from the shelves.

The trap in which our hearts speak a sweet dialect every day,
what for others it's maybe unknown or defective, like a maze,
where the sky without you, would be a bitter and huge grey,
without stars that shines intensely in the hot summer days.

Me, without your warm arms, I would be a tremble and shiver,
I would probably be the hostile bride of the solitude,
for your lips I'm hungry, to flow on my body, like a river,
I would burn to ashes and turn into eternity's prelude.

With you, I'm the solemn tree from your back garden,
and you, the fence around me, singing to me easy.
Otherwise, the yard would be empty, without any pardon,
in my heart would always rest the late fall, making me dizzy.

Without you, I would be just an involuntary speaker
who walks around to hunt the shadows on the lonely streets,
for the light in your eyes, I would always be a seeker,
and my heart would tremble in slow and gloomy beats.

With you, I only see hearts that swears faith to each other,
I feel as if I would have come back from death just now,
in front of the chains of pain, I dressed the armour of another,
for the world does not seem to me anymore upside down.
Oct 2018 · 451
Irina BBota Oct 2018
Call me crazy, for breathing your air in my chest,
and my body struggles with an impatient expectation,
in need of a dream, for accepting the reality,
thinking of me would be a speaking proof of temptation.

Talk to me in cadence, in a seductively deep tone,
for I can lay next to your voice, to fall asleep untroubled,
to listen how the rain knocks my window, in dreams to plunge in
while you are staring at me and leaving me unclothed.

Give silent orders to my body with your greedy hands,
your eyes are not having enough and keeps me craving too,
our lips merge into a hungry clutter and we are left
without breath, insatiable, in a world with love as its tattoo.

Then, let a cloud of sleep lay over your eyes
with smells of aphrodisiac, but extinguishing our fires,
retreating with a slight bow, like a real gentleman
shivered by a chill, but loving his girl, whom he admires.
Irina BBota Oct 2018
I will not say
that my life was a shipwreck,
because I never forget to bring a pious tribute,
I'm always humming, even in the lifeboat,
singing in sad verses, but with so much fervor;
that for your rose I wanted to go back,
but the door was already closed.
And your pictures...
I put them in a scrapbook,
hoping not to seek love in reproaches,
in indifference, and I am able to make
my kind of review of life,
which in appearance should be clear,
without any minimal error,
wanting to be the only ambassador
of your heart and your body.

I will not say
that my shy eyes have also loved your eyes
from the first day of the spring when we met,
that through red roses and blooming bushes
secrets were lost in the air,
winking from the back of some delicate leaves,
and I saw two fireflies dancing,
trying to apologize for spreading the love
among the hopeless,
those who were rolling their tears of rain
in their exuberance,
softened by the perfume of the night
until it cracked for a new day,
with cheery souls,
wanting to make innocent jokes.

I will not say
that my elegant, velvety hand,
with tanned skin now, like bitter chocolate
cracks its unhappiness like a too heavy satchel,
and leaves it as a warranty in the desert of monotony,
that my hair was like the feathers of a croaking raven,
but invisible spiders put their laces around my eyes,
while I had my lips whispering your name, sighing forever,  
loaded with a tone of sincere, tender syllables.

But I'm gonna tell you
I've been snoozing in the abyss of love
and this caused us a temporary blindness
in the heart and reason,
and without wanting,
two tears that have been restrained for so long,
one of yours, one of mine,
made our souls united,
and we thought we were able to go both further,
not knowing whether, how, when, where
to play one last card.
Sep 2018 · 109
Irina BBota Sep 2018
I believe in the naive love that corrupts my heart,
in the volcano of numb emotions that falls apart,
in the sweet comfort, the one from late nights,
I believe in the words of my "still" unwritten sights.

I believe in emotions carried by the sweltering wind,
in you, for you've never given up, or let yourself be thinned,
in your paintings, painted in black and white or mute,
I believe in the silence that listens to your hush in the dispute.

I believe in the steam of the coffee as a trophy of caffeine,
in the healing of the wounded soul, without any morphine,
in the roads that led me once towards you, from the stars above,
I believe in remembering, in the feeling of true love.

And I believe in the sewing of hearts, the wiping of tears,
in the walking of the soul, the defeat of sweet fears,
in the sacred angels who walks beside you smoothly,
in gestures that can be read step by step. That moves me!

I believe in the couple who loves without searching for any reason,
in summer's hot stones, or lazy spring that follows its season,
in the stomachs where the butterflies are thrilling like crazy,
I still believe in the charm that fails to become immune and hazy.

I believe in the enthusiasm of being in love, in all of its forms,
in the shy and unblemished spring, and the thunderstorms,
in the iris of my so-called romantic eyes, like the blue sky,
in the wings of angels, the ones who never die.

Will I be able to believe tomorrow?
Sep 2018 · 516
Irina BBota Sep 2018
I received a letter, written on a brown piece of paper,
with my name beautifully written in a diagonal line,
it said: “-Sweetheart, please keep a dance for me!
A first important dance at a traditional wedding! Be mine!

Let your black hair fall in waves, in messy, loose curls!
For I can bathe forever in the dark blue of your eyes!
Let's have the Sun, the Moon, and thousands of stars invited,
for our love will endure, it will burn in fire in the skies!

Let me enjoy that dance until the last signs
of your smile that will contradict me in deep silence,
not to get scared by the force of other mannered fellow,
I want to live the sweet life and reach out to the horizons!”

Breathless sweat began to burn my cheeks,
having the smile as lightning in the darkness of the night,
the heart bounced for a while, then began to lament
for the fear of flying towards the sky, holding me tight.

“-You will forget that dance, as if nothing had happened
on the unbeaten territory of the heart on some maps,
the colourful laughter will turn into an immaculate white
because love is worth living, don't ever let it collapse!”
Sep 2018 · 617
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Reach out your hand, take me into your palms
for one second or a minute of the leaking time,
listen to the rhythm of my heart from reckless Brahms
losing me in the labyrinth that touches me with its eye.

Open my heart's buttons to see its full nakedness,
loving me as if tomorrow morning you would lose the bets,
give him a spark, for his passion to reanimate, making us
forget about you, about me, about all our regrets.

Take me into that chamber bathing in the nuances of fire,
take the body that now is incapable of self-control,
let the music in the background comfort my hearing and inspire,
waiting until the ice melts in my heart and my soul.

Love me with a body that no longer thinks of anything new
bearing the mark of an acute and fine sensuality of a dove,
enveloped by the appetizing flavour that worries you
in this ritual of the pantomime from the game of love.

Dare me with your fingers that traces on my shoulders
lines that for a few moments are burning me, consuming me
with the intensity of the eye that fixes me, it marks me,
making me lose the last morsel of my mind, foolishly.

I would not resist your spontaneous urge to touch my bust
with your penetrating glance or emotions, awakening, letting me be,
with a burning temptation that's not extinguishing that crazy lust,
nor under the breath of night that would sneak in unconsciously.
Sep 2018 · 115
Irina BBota Sep 2018
I'm your woman...lose me in whispers, in a caress,
teach me the steps towards me with and beside you,
wait for me on an edge of a sun ray from sky's address
and tell me you're afraid too...of yourself...of me...of the new.

I'm your poetry...sketch me as beautifully as you can
with dots, with commas, slowly, to make me feel the intrigue,
write me in many capital letters, speak me warmly as my man,
make me hear how your soul shouts me in echoes, not fatigue.

I am your perfume...smell me softly and gently as I cry,
pour on my forehead and on my lips profound kisses,
listen how you beat in my chest and make me fly,
and take care of your sadness on the nocturnal pieces.

I'm your air...breathe me as deeply as you can,
to adjust, to resonate as two sad violins from heaven's band,
with the sip of pure love falling from your heart on the divan,
we will write our silent hush...just the two of us, hand in hand.

I'm your ardent well-hidden hugs on the shore,
wearing for a long time a pair of stolen angel wings,
wiping your cheeks from wrinkles that are sore,
denying the idea of being passengers pulling the strings.
Sep 2018 · 313
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Somewhere around here, I learned to speak through silence.
Probably when our hearts loved each other truly.
Just heartbeats in the eyes, teasing and sweet replies,
in the yard of my soul now a tear started to flow.

On my cheek crystal beads are dripping stronger,
the ice inside me is melting and it has no idea
that he wants you to stay! Don't go! Wait a little longer!
Today is about Us and we're climbing up to Ave Maria.

But my heart is spreading mute unspoken words without control,
you're not here, and there's no one to listen to my thoughts
how a He and a She is melting into an amazing whole,
they want the same Tomorrow looking to each other's hearts.

So, spread seeds of dreams on my lips until morning,
and I'll taste you, breathe you, I'll be your virtuous singer
singing at the wedding of the butterflies in the stomach
and convert your black into an immaculate white in the winter.

Just lie to me nicely, tell me you're gonna love me in tears
until the white flakes of old age will begin to fall acute,
even if we are pressed by the weight of many years,
we should want more in life, not to remain mute.
Sep 2018 · 121
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Autumn comes again, with her bare arms,
the depths are hiding deaf fountains of smiles,
the cold rains and fog wandering in the farms,
the warm sunrise was expelled, so he cries.

The secrets of waterfalls that carries their name
are reading my bitter soul as an empty shell,
my tears are flowing to extinguish the flame
of the clouds from heaven... so they tell.

I wonder if my heart will slow down in time
until the dawn of old age that puts a spell
on the sunrises and sunsets, in the meantime
I can take over the duties of the fall as well.

Until then, I remain an insomniac in motion.
Until flowers grow into the heart. I will not surrender.
I'll try over and over again, until tears make an ocean.
Tell me... when I'm going to meet my life's defender?
Sep 2018 · 154
Irina BBota Sep 2018
You could have been my metaphor, a verse
on my heaven, written with capital letters,
to be my step in my slow walk, not in my curse
but on my journey on paradise's feathers.

You could have been my suave song
as the nightingale's from the forest,
to feel the spring in the air so strong
signing its name on my soul, so modest.

You could have been my hot steamed verbs
of the coffee each and every morning,
when we could have tell unspoken words
and wake up daily to life, without any warning.

You could have been my love from my soul
stored in the small corner of my heart's balcony,
to be the stamp and the header on my paper roll,
to be my shadow and sunshine in my agony.

But you chose to remain a memory from the past,
a pale sunray, vulnerable in its very own shine,
a memory that I will think about without being asked
when I will look for a sweet shelter... or a sign.

I know everything will pass beside and over us,
for then the sun to reappear, all over again,
the wind will whistle over the naked shoulders,
souls will hide a treasure behind the aching pain.

We will be precious gem and secret for each other,
we will be the mystery hidden in our palms,
without us having regrets in front of our Father
that we... we may have loved each other once.
Sep 2018 · 135
Irina BBota Sep 2018
When the time will come for you to miss me,
I will be long gone, baby, you know...
as a note on the stave, but without any sound,
I will be hidden in a beautiful rainbow.

The wind outside will not touch any leaf,
no creature will move anymore on this Earth,
the fluttering of the wings will no longer be heard,
only a deep silence will know your true worth.

You will only see a white slice of the Moon,
lonely on the gray sky, sitting on his throne,
when the sun will be ready to set,
the diamond in your heart will become a stone.

You will turn your favorite music even louder,
to slip slightly into the sweet, late night dreams,
you will let the peace of your thoughts go deaf
until the rainbow and the moon would become friends.

Only then... I will show up out of the rainbow
taking the shape of the stars beside the Moon,
then you could enframe the notes on the stave,
thus paying in advance to the fate that was immune.
Sep 2018 · 192
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Listen to my prayer, Lord! Do not let me perish!
I need you as my teammate whom I deeply cherish!
Don't let the good remain unpaid and be envious
in this greedy world where everything is perfidious!

Help me, Lord, to stay for eternity in your cathedral!
Let me see my children well, protect them from evil!
Do not let them fall into the panic of this society,
but to trust, to believe in high-aspirations with piety!

Raise me up, Lord, pick my heart up from the floor!
Don't let my words be spoken for nothing, like before!
Give my mother and my sister good health, if you could,
to see them happy here in my neighborhood!

Catch me, Lord, if I should ever fall again!
Do not let me get into dreadful Satan's hell!
Leave me here with my both feet on the ground,
let me see the denouement of my life! Now I'm found!

Teach me, Lord, the secret of two gathered hands!
Touch my soul with prayers that are so intense!
Have mercy on me, give me strength to bear my cross,
to find out where peace and serenity are! Not to get lost!
Sep 2018 · 122
Irina BBota Sep 2018
Between you and me ... a worrying world
about the crowd of men that guards our words
and taste the love from the sweet cup of the happiness,
daring to break the spell of bitter sadness.

Between me and you ... there is only one way,
you would want all of my heart in your chest,
you would breathe my words, my eternal dilemmas,
the distance being your greatest regret.

Between you and me ... silence ... and a mute kiss
that incites and listen how the hormones scream,
the feelings that don't fit into the soul, I chase them away
creating addiction to my lips and war to my neurons.

Between me and you ... the same Sun, the same Moon,
the same stars that shine on my face,
being their godmother, for in the night they are crowned,
and the witnesses are the warm beads of sand.

Between you and me ... a deadly loneliness
and a chest full of unfulfilled dreams,
the autumn dew, and fear of death,
just dots, dots, dots and two merged hearts.
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