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2.1k · Nov 2018
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 2017
I was going on the edge of life with the nicked soul
the disappointment in me was announcing the storm,
but the eyes, pointing to the infinite horizon's goal,
like two blue pearls, vibrated restlessly and warm.

I admit, without any disagreement or resistence
that my world that was lost beyond any sight,
which at some point evoked a certain distance,
did not want to be just a poor mortal in the night.

I hope I'll have the soul infused with care and love
to believe in the harmony of the unblemished bells,
to pass all on the universe of the divine realm, above...
and me... to be born again with crystalline shells.
791 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Time is passing by
I am here against my will
Who invented me?
699 · Aug 2018
Irina BBota Aug 2018
Dear Heart, I can hear your silence, I feel it screaming,
without any defense, poisoned by wounds and smoke,
dressed up only with pain and numbness, as a stroke,
without an umbrella, in the summer rain weeping.

You are chained into the rough cage of fear,
on your shoulders, I can feel the pressure,
after all this time, the betrayal still hurts, it's still so clear,
in your boutique are not just delights and pleasure.

There are also fiery words, thrown into the wind,
causing a devastating drought in the soul, begging
the malicious smiles that spread ruthlessly thinned
flames on their nostrils, like a bleeding dragon.

Promise yourself that the drought will not dry your will
to feel once more the sweet scent of love given by a golden fish,
with your heart in your palm you will light endlessly, as you wish,
without the eternal dilemma. That is my only thrill!
678 · Jan 2019
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!
500 · Jan 2019
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.
454 · Jan 2018
Irina BBota Jan 2018
Give me a one-way ticket to Nowhere,
to be like a solitary, unique flower,
to see thousands of morning stars,
to be the longing's sweet desire.

Give me a one-way ticket to Anywhere,
my wings have forgotten how to fly,
for going back to my world in seconds,
the resignation will have to pass me by.

Give me a return ticket Anytime,
to give. Because I forgot to receive.
Am I in the clouds or on the ground?
I have loved and I love now, I believe.

Give me a return ticket Anyway,
I do not ask for me to be understood.
I do not want any self-consumption,
angels wouldn't care, but I would.

431 · Oct 2017
Irina BBota Oct 2017
I believe… that the night hides abyss of silence,
fleeting butterflies swirls and bends over my eyelashes,
gloomy shadows, shuddering cavalcades of emotions,
the seed of light breaks down the tangled paths of life …

I believe... that nostalgia has the perfume of a rainbow
what strikes the unwritten verse between my lips,
with withered sounds resonating on the alley of life
the noisy clinker wants the world to amuse ...

I believe... that the water's murmur reflects bulbs of light,
the sad dance of the autumn cuts the road to ruins,
the trembling forest, dry, now deeply broken,
wants to mourne in front of heaven, making things right  ...

I believe... that springs will mirror in the quiet waters,
the serene sighs will once whisper my name,
to disturb the calm of warm hours with a charming smile,
to turn on the desire with his mouth hungry for love ...
428 · Sep 2018
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!”
417 · Sep 2018
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.
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...
414 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Mistress of the Sun,
I dress words in metaphores.
Tell the Moon I’m home.
401 · Oct 2017
Irina BBota Oct 2017
I almost believed that autumn came,
that rains castles of emotions have built.
Who is guilty of all those things?
The forest on the crust of sadness slipped.

In fall's eyes you see the leaves in the wind,
seeking happiness, weeping for the summer.
For nobody ever-ever told them
what is the meaning of a true autumn.

The days and dawns seem so far now,
the golden leaves flow in a theatrical way.
It was the end of the autumns ball,
they listen triumphantly on the unobstructed paths.

Autumn, with her untrustworthy sadness
returns again, sipping the light of the forest.
Looks like all is floating, resembling to a wave,
they curl and crumble from shore into shore.

The silent trees on the fall's fragile shoulders
are like leaves in the arms of rains soldiers.
With divine lights come through the enchanted glass
at the crossroad to give her one more kiss.

The autumn of soul is like a bouquet of wind,
like love-loving salvation wandering in thoughts.
The sap of love penetrates into the holy rains
with cold splashes, for having the last words.
398 · Nov 2017
Irina BBota Nov 2017
You will look for me when the sun will dry your tear
and passenger lovers will accuse your pain,
when you escape from the world's horror and fear,
when the gentle breeze's music will fall down as rain.
Or not...

You'll look for me when your excuses will be drowned
and your warm, ruby glance ​​will look for an answer,
when my laugh will have a contagious sound,
when you meet me on the street, in the arms of a dancer.
Or not...

You're going to look for me, grumpy and full of hesitation,
when the thighs of the nights will be closer than yesterday,
when I'll not look back for a long time from love's station,
when rhymes will be written on violin accords, in my holiday.
Or not...

You're going to look for me and ask me with your sight
if red rose petals of romance had fallen over my life,
but I will not let the flame burn me anymore, in the night,
even if your memory I will let it go, without a strife.
Or not...
380 · Oct 2018
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.
378 · Nov 2017
Irina BBota Nov 2017
How pretentious can be the silence
in the mornings of the hot summer days!
I felt nothing no more, for patience
is not limited to formal love and it says:

It was just me. The rest of the world delivers
heavy waves stumbling against my wall,
trying to set right the serpentined rivers
of crying, flowing on my crusty skin of a wooden doll.

The Sun, a dragon that throws flames on his nose,
the Wind, too coward to show his refreshing face,
the Sky, discolored in the distance, it froze,
just the Moon closed his eyes, leaving no trace .

Me and I, were not well together,
but I have found the power to listen to myself,
sipping the sweet-bitter coffee, feeling a bit better,
I was learning again to live, to be an other self.

I knew that one day the blank pages will be coloured,
That the ink stains of my soul will disappear,
That I will forget about the storm that is uncovered,
the call of love will be on my side, without shedding no tear.

I knew that butterflies melody I would hear soon,
Birds chattering happy over the green forest,
That I will never hear poor souls screaming in the noon,
That all this will be simple memories on my wrist.

Now I extinguish my thirst with accords of violin,
Mistrust has deserted from my sleepless earth,
Regrets have become sad songs of flowers on my skin,
In the breeze of the morning, forgetting my wound's birth.
369 · Dec 2018
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.
Irina BBota Aug 2018
I'm going to meet with the yesteryear woman,
to give her a sweet, scented lily kind of smile.
I'm going to give her a hug and tell her it'll be okay,
in the yesterday's threshold, in her merciless exile.

There have been many tears and sighs in vain,
in the deserted wilderness, no one to comfort her.
With a ruthless heart, now full of bitterness,
the mistrust in love made her see everything in blur.

She always questioned her own beauty and worth,
but she does not bend in front of the kicks of the fate.
She keeps silence thinking that it does not hurt anymore,
her cheeks swallowed the tears running in torrents of hate.

Her gentle heart was pounding from fear in her chest,
the burden was too hard to bear, so she's leaving.
She braids now enigmas with determined words,
but the river fountains were lamenting and grieving.

I will tell her that tomorrow will be a brand new day,
the stars and the moon will always be there to guide her.
That in this life nothing is what it seems to be,
the sun one day will rise in her way. Yes, my dear Mother!
333 · Nov 2018
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.
324 · Jun 2018
Inside of Eden
Irina BBota Jun 2018
the taste of the wind
reminds me of the sea breeze
inside of Eden
322 · Nov 2017
Irina BBota Nov 2017
No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just an interpreter of tales in which tears are drops of longing ...
Tales, in which I hear through my ears
echoes of an invisible and indivisible world ...
I sometimes like to pour myself a little red
and sweet wine of the silence cup,
the inner silence is erupting from me,
which seems to me to be a deaf-mute dispute between heart and reason ...

No, I'm not a poet.
Only words are fighting against me,
but still, I feel my heart is lifting in their arms,
with the same intensity as at the beginning...
The letters in my words do not need arguments,
they just want to free themselves,
to touch souls more and more, joining in verses,
their destinies being knotted with rhymes ...

No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a human beeing who, for a few moments,
has a breath of inspiration,
swallowing with greed the air from the room
where I lay down my silence, my love, my longing,
trying to transform words into a vibrant power, almost tangible.
Sometimes I use words with a killing flesh of attraction,
like a masterful crowning of the letters that take hold of my pen...
and sometimes with a gentle, sweet glance,
whispering voluptuously, making my rhymes fall on their knees ...

No, I'm not a poet.
I just measure the universe with a hungry, critically eye-catching curiosity,
while the aroma of my coffee is flowing in the air,
escaping from the espresso,
mysteriously and dazzling...
I just caress the words on the pavements of the lyrics
peeled by the rains of the heart where the letters are sad and lonely...

Now I retire with a slight bow,
as an unspoken satisfaction, in front of all those who read me,
in front of the ones you know me...
A delusive lust to write a few lyrics has taken me by surprise...
maybe about truth, maybe about numb dreams,
maybe about the cure of lost hearts... which is love!
319 · Sep 2019
Haiku 2
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Arrogant sunset
Reveals Yesterday’s secret
Promising the Moon
317 · Oct 2017
Irina BBota Oct 2017
I hate english weather when it's raining all day...
I hate the wind, but still, I wish it could stay...
I hate it because leaves are drinking all the rain...
And they are keeping me in world's deepest pain...
I am asking rain over and over kindly to cease...
Cause manhood is suffering from the darkest disease...
Love and mercy had gone, faded away...
Me... and you... everyone is to blame...
But we should be thankful, for the heart-blessing rain...
And trying to be better, do not never complain...
Make love happen, take everything under control...
It's our life, so we must have this goal...
We should be still, and stop our eyes from crying...
Because behind clouds the sun is always shining...

(So, I wrote this poem on my trip, on the bus...
Maybe it's not perfect... please don't make any fuss...)
309 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Colors in the air
Breathing them deeply
I am a rainbow
307 · Nov 2017
Irina BBota Nov 2017
When Cupid throws the arrow and big love is calling,
follow it, even if its roads are heavy because of fear!
Turn the silence louder, have the courage even if you're crawling,
look inside you and you will realize. You woke up, my dear!

When you love, you're wearing stormy clothes of silence,
you look up to heaven to see life in colours of the rainbow.
You forget that the world is full of nostalgia, hurt and violence,
you throw the dice to the dreams, then you can say Hello!

When you love, everything is wrapped with light white cover,
you want deeply to cleanse the sadness of its own rust.
You learn to read between the lines of the law of love, to recover
and only when you feel, you will know the mystery of lust.

When you love, even the words from the poetry are blushing
so correct me, please, if you consider that I'm wrong!
For love is not proven only by words that are rushing,
we risk everything without thinking about beeing strong.

When you love, the god's voice falls asleep in the harsh battle,
your barriers disappear into the sweet and bitter melancholy.
The sap of life flows through your veins like vows in the chapel,
and lights the fire with the sighs of sadness of the valley.

So, love the love! To learn to live again, in heaven's creation!
Get your heart in your teeth, have the power to dare!
Live, to feel the flavor of forgiveness and salvation!
Shout out loud your crazy love ... it'll be your answer to your prayer!
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.
276 · Nov 2017
Irina BBota Nov 2017
I write with letters of the silent alphabet
the foreword is a short criticized page.
With my heart pounding and silence as my bed
I notice that my life will step to another stage.

I will not be a poet, I will just pretend
that I use noble and enchanted words
I'll write, but I'll be not famous at the end
I'm going to search for the emotions of verbs.

And the non-colorful muse with which I feed,
will be hiding in the comfort of billions of stars
will feel melancholy this entire universe of greed
my eardrums will have an echo of silence and scars.
275 · Dec 2018
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.
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.
272 · Sep 2019
Haiku 3.
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Next to your footsteps
I feel like an outsider
An unwanted guest
271 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Waiting for a smile,
Don’t care if today I die!
Trust me, that’s a lie.
267 · Aug 2018
Irina BBota Aug 2018
Please don't ask me today to love you in mystery,
to stop in front of the thick wall of silence.
Let my soul get rid of fear and feel the victory,
for only you can extinguish it with happiness and guidance.

Please don't ask me today from your life to step out,
I'd be a traveler in time and lost in my own space.
In the heart of another, I can't cross the bridge without any doubt,
I'd be consumed on the edge of the fire, that's not my place.

Please don't ask me today to tell you about love.
It's not surrounded in velvet or shrouded in cashmere.
It's the bird's thrill that fills your ear, it's the white dove,
it's about the emotions in the theater you can hear.

Please don't ask me today to leave you in the box of longing,
for I would always open it, thinking and dreaming about you.
With wings of an angel, you would be brought to me by the wind,
but only in my thoughts. You wouldn't leave for me when the sky is blue.

Please, just ask me today to stay forever in your soul,
to flow through your veins, to be your living desire.
Breathe on my heart, that's all I want, that is your role.
You wouldn't leave alone, we wouldn't be empty souls singing in a choir.
263 · Sep 2018
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.
252 · Jan 2018
Irina BBota Jan 2018
Who are you? I will probably never know.
Your words are decorating my bending soul.
In silent mornings when I drink my aromatic coffee
Reality disappears, and hypnosis unfolds.

Who are you? The longing that knows my heartache,
Words that I used to believe so easily?
A mute Self, between much white and much black,
Looking constantly for himself in the gloomy parade?

Who are you? You are the world's greatest discovery
Who learnes all about the soul's immortality?
Who sees ice and fire in two distinct colours
And silence speaks to you in tremendous words?

Who are you? A soul with congestion of lava
Who can erupt anytime, leaving behind just waste?
Or a heart pulsing, passing through conversion
And hides his feelings through lyrics and prose?

Who are you? Are you heaven's demonic angel
Who lives and has the courage to shout in the silence,
Who often plays serenades through written poems,
Through mute words, non-words with the gates closed?

Who are you? The one who thinks white will turn gray?
The one who hopes one day black can become white?
Try to see in the fog more colours of your life,
Don't care about time, dual space or duration.

14.01.2018 London
247 · Dec 2018
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.
234 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
A tear and a smile
Are taking their dark revenge
In heart’s secret storm.
222 · Oct 2018
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.
218 · Dec 2018
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.
218 · Nov 2018
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.
217 · Aug 2018
Irina BBota Aug 2018
You... me... both of us and two cups of coffee,
a sweet, red wine and a scented Yankee candle,
our eyes are whispering to each other, as sweet toffee
love can no longer be delayed, but handled.

In the background, Zamfir's famous pan flute,
dropping lava in my blood, not on the roads,
wherever I go, just rose petals in their suit
our hearts beat in tandem until they explode.

We are the encyclopedia of abundant feelings,
we are the actors of an interesting start,
life resembles a tragicomedy written on the ceilings
at the thought of being followed by a kiss from the heart.

Me... you... us... and a beginning of a love story,
we have to be patient and take care not to crush
the butterflies I annoyed on my wall from the dormitory
not to lose them in the labyrinth of love in our rush.

There will be feelings that maybe will grow,
for we are always running after eternal love,
or maybe they will fade, for the fear of saying hello,
and then we ask for more time from the mourning dove.

But let's give to Time what we owe ... time.
Time is you... Time is me... we are both,
this season wouldn't starve us, it would be a crime,
palm in palm we'd pass through waves and take an oath.

We inspire love and we expire a naive passion,
the past would be just a small curse
dazzling us with many kinds of affection,
whispering our names through its silent verse.

It's your wave... my wave... it's our wave,
we only have air to breathe abruptly while we ascend,
we haunt our own thoughts while we crave
for the expiry date to never come to an end.
208 · Dec 2018
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!
208 · Oct 2018
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.
206 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
My famous first words:
Mommy, daddy, family.
For eternity!
206 · Sep 2019
Haiku 4
Irina BBota Sep 2019
The grand opening
We are the everyday clowns
In times of Ego
206 · Jan 2019
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.
Irina BBota Aug 2018
Hello! ... It's me! How are you? How are you doing?
Do you think about me at night, when you sleep?
Are you listening to our favorite music while pursuing
To remember our sweet moments you want to keep?

I remember your dovelike face when you slept,
How I watched over you... you didn't even know...
How much I wanted to feel your protective wings, except
That they made my heart feel like floating feather in the snow.

I wonder if I disappeared from the nest of sorrow...
Would you find me in your soul, somewhere in a tiny corner?
Would you call me, or look for me in the coffee steam tomorrow?
At dawn or late at night, would you call me like a foreigner?

I wrote and rewrote a dozen letters to you in my mind
Surfing through my thoughts, causing me creeps...
Hoping for a peaceful and calm existence, as a blind
I looked in the mirror and it slapped my cheeks.

Then I woke up from dreaming with wide open eyes,
I was hoping in vain that fate would declare us admitted,
I knew I had a privileged place in the world's misery, full of lies,
Now I know... Life has something else destined for us. So, I submitted.
203 · Jun 2018
Irina BBota Jun 2018
On the unknown path
Life brings you many hazards
You become wiser.
191 · Jun 2018
Splendid stars
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Thousand splendid stars
At midnight in the garden
Were watching their God.
187 · Sep 2019
Haiku 5
Irina BBota Sep 2019
Your shadowy eyes
Weeping waves of living lies
Silent abduction
186 · Apr 2019
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.
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