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4d · 814
in other words
for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except that
to taste the dust they must believe in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows,
washed by rain, smelled of sprinting squirrels,
beaten by hot-cold winds, swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than rotten in the mud under a tree, (be it and strong)

- in other words
who cares about a vigorous tree,
when you are a survival  arch/canopy,
arched up to the white canvases.
6d · 676
our dying kiss
two babies were born
with flying wings
I know,
It is hard to believe! BUT
There is always a higher power that takes care of yourself.
(I also tell this to myself every day when I pray)
7d · 22
silky roads
in a world of glitter and tinsel
we are two visions of mori butterflies,
whose larvae eat the darkness of the night
like a white mulberry tree, leaving holes of light
on the forgotten silky roads.
Maria Mitea Apr 5
Today I want to draw you
(Yes, I can draw you. It's all about starting.)

With the black pencil, I draw a cross on the white,
I cut the white, you're done, you're not white,
You would have been a bride dressed in white,
but you are not,
Then I wonder, what another colour,
I jump joyfully and choose the yellow pencil,

I draw your eyes with yellow, you start shouting at me,
The black cross is cutting the white of the paper
from one end to the other,
again, you are screaming out your lungs,
your screaming energizes the colour,
yellow comes out on the lips, on the nose,
it brightens the thickness of the eyes.

The room is full of golden light
fighting with monochromatic egotism.

Your yellow is absorbed in me,
I become a dandelion that draws you în autumn leaves,
jasmine, chrysanthemums, butterflies, bees,
all small insects invade the room, the paper,
my eyes enter your eyes.

You scream at me ”stop! it hurts”

Greedily I consume all the yellow from the sun,
You keep screaming at me  ”do not **** me in flowers”
I  get more excited
and I move with the joy of a child who discovered the pleasure of scribbling,

The yellow from the drawing grows your head big like an asteraceae,
I start seeing a smoky red, invasively yellow navigates towards red,
red is growing in an orange,

The orange rolls under the golden layer, it touches the cross.
The cross gives birth to multicoloured roads,
gardens and orange orchards are growing  from the desire to shape your face,

You stopped shouting. I sketch your profile.
With a husky voice, you ask me if I can draw an orange,
I draw an orange.
Tell me, who doesn't like oranges.
Apr 5 · 348
dying sunset
Maria Mitea Apr 5
the fruit of their few
joyful days together
Apr 4 · 416
”the puppy love”
Maria Mitea Apr 4
it stops in the heat of the day and picks your wildflowers.
it's coming. it certainly comes. out of the world. ones.
white moths will flutter their wings at your years
"if you want. come to dinner. we”ll be us ”

for fear of another step back. every second asks incessantly
"what could have happened"
the eyes remained fix on that crucifix.
chain hanging on the rearview mirror "

a heart that splits in the rain.

- it hurts ... but no ... I can't open the door.
"let's run. run with me. now"
one last look disappears in the flood of rain.
it can hit. anyone. anywhere. anytime.
in silence ... keep your hand on the door handle.
if not. we can say "it was the tyranny of time"
we only need a minute. to open the door to the outside world.
Apr 4 · 85
Maria Mitea Apr 4
when utterance strikes you lightly with an elbow,
and the unspoken covers you in silent flakes,
send the whisper, I”ll dress up your silence
with the cry of a peacock.
Apr 2 · 199
do not wait
Maria Mitea Apr 2
for the life before,

or the life after,

you are the only one who will ever live your life,
Apr 2 · 628
i lay down
Maria Mitea Apr 2
next to her
and looked at her,
- i thought, - a mound with a soul
that I could smell,

smelled like a wolf near the deer

i could see her with my own mind
as she was in the light of the day,
beautiful as she was and overly attractive.

Aren't you sleeping?

I heard her.

I had no air
writing from the masculine side
Apr 2 · 148
Maria Mitea Apr 2
between me and you voices scream,
- everything is a dream buried in white shores,
mountains and fields are between me and you,
rivers, oceans are between me and you,
the stars die between me and you,
  the gods are drowning in sighs, between me and you
  the sky splits in two,
the whole universe is waiting,
for the two wanderers to fall asleep,

voices cry, - dreamers Fly!
everything is a F(l)ight!
Mar 30 · 67
Will I ever have you
Maria Mitea Mar 30
I want your eyes,
I want them,
If I can't have your eyes,
Will I ever have your ears,

I want your thoughts,
I want them,
if I can't have your thoughts,
Will I ever have your heart,

I want to keep you close
I want you,
if I can't keep you away,
Will I ever keep you close?
Mar 23 · 164
They Hoped
Maria Mitea Mar 23
to find a balance between the feeling of uselessness
and that of the need to fight,
between the certainty of inevitable failure
and the inevitable imperative,
Every life crises lead to self-division. If we are leaving in an ongoing crisis we are continuously approaching life from a space of self-division. This is when life becomes a burden.
Mar 23 · 121
Maria Mitea Mar 23
your words sway in me
as in a hammock between two trees
embracing their roots
far away from the eyes of the world,
the leaves fluttering in the wind
like two lovers disinterested in kissing,
pale grass longing near the trunk,
waiting for the caressing rain, and me,
trembling like a rabbit at every word you say.
Mar 21 · 100
every day is courage
Maria Mitea Mar 21
Do you want to know how Brave you are?
Be curious to know your vulnerabilities.

is directly proportional to your weaknesses,
Mar 21 · 73
Maria Mitea Mar 21
does not consist of success or loss,
life is about trying,
keep trying
Mar 21 · 94
be dignified
Maria Mitea Mar 21
be dignified of every fall,
no matter the severity of the drama,
as a ”buen maestro” not a spectator
walk with dignity through the film of your own drama,
maintain the path, invest your soul,
you will never be who you were,
whether you're laughing or crying in pain,
do not compromise with the false spirits,
give up egocentrism, expectations, lamentations,
make time and create space, detach from everything,
every day do your inner work,
lie down on the floor and respiro, respiro, respiro …
more respiro, rest, rest, rest, float, float,
floating awareness, detach and let it go of everything,
let it flow ...
for your own soul to be reborn.
Mar 20 · 103
Crumbs of souls
Maria Mitea Mar 20
It is snowing today with Crumbs of bread,
the Crumbs pass through the air,
fall, and only where they do not fall,
and only who does not nibble on them,
every day a flock of birds flies
around a Crumb of bread, an anthill feeds,
There were so many of us around the table,
like giants in drops of blood,
my mother didn't scold us
if the Crumbs fell on the floor, rather
a sister or brother pointed the finger:
you have made Crambs, it falls from you,
not from me, from you, see how you scatter,
- I just swept around the house,

My mother knew how to calm us down:
"The Crumbs come to our house from heaven,
grandparents, grandmothers ask to be remembered
my dear children, it's a great pity to quarrel
or blame each other when you eat at the table,
- you know, we, people whatever place we pass
we leave behind us Crumbs,
you better call the birds to nibble at will,
and let the Crumbs also make wings.
the transition between heaven and earth
Mar 17 · 309
Biogenic dust
Maria Mitea Mar 17
we float freely unhindered by anyone,
only the air reaches our origin,
  - a root of a gnawed mushroom and mould plant,
- a meat animal devoured by parasites claiming white fame,

despite  existent poetic hunger haunted by virtual air,
all that brings us closer is the greed to smell each other's freedom, -

after glass wool walls (steklovata)
oil emissions enter our pores,
burn the eyeball, the words of a language,
other languages, cogitation, hesitation,
we survive in the form of particles,
biogenic dust,
free under the sun
Mar 14 · 67
Maria Mitea Mar 14
creased lips -
-flight of stomach butterflies
sunbeams on radiant faces
electric kisses
  lightning in the veins
a garden with flowers
heaven on earth
Mar 14 · 221
The letter of a beggar
Maria Mitea Mar 14
My Dear,

How do you want me to write you?
- in the fire, on the edge of a knife,
or rolling in penguin feathers,

Do you remember those times?
- writing me with  big bird feathers,

Do not mind me,
I have enough crazy thoughts today,
an idea came to my mind,
- to learn all the tricks in the art of beggary,
Do you think it would make a difference?

Could I be the best beggar in all world,
it would be enough for me to have your mercy,
squatting all hungry in cold, freezing weather,
thirsty and sick laying down on the street corner,
hunched like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
or if I cut off my hands, my feet, pulling out my eyes,
if I couldn't, - If I could not,
does that mean I can't have you,

Don't pay any attention to what I say,
plus, I messed up the days,
I thought it was Friday
and maybe if I learn this art I'm talking about
your heart lets you visit me tonight,
so we can touch with our eyes, with our lips,

- better ignore me as the last beggar in the world,
ignore me as a gentleman who knows what he wants from life
and knows how to easily handle a cane and a hat in front of a street mendicant,

And yet,
I think if you were a beautiful young girl and I would be the miserable beggar,
would I succeed in winning her heart,
kiss her lips with the flattery of humility,
touch her ******* with my hands trembling from the disease of begging,
crawling at her feet and kiss them with the passion of a blind cadger,

If God came to test my talent and I would pass,
Would you receive it? - would you accept everything that was left in me,
and I, approved by the one above, to be happy with what is left in you,

Would it make a difference? - would it,
Mar 12 · 521
the child of the sun
Maria Mitea Mar 12
it is a shadow

of the tree
dark lighting
at the zenith of the day, tasting
the sweat on man”s forehead

the child of the sun
it is a shadow

of grass
opaque existence
angle of light
in the calmness of the earth

the child of the sun
it is a shadow, silently
following the man
to the water spring
in the valley of springs,

the mother sun
quenches its thirst
with the tears of the earth,

the child of the sun
it is a shadow
Mar 12 · 36
The Truth
Maria Mitea Mar 12
I fell in love with the Truth
I want to be like Him, the undeniable Truth,
I do not allow myself to be separated from Him,
I would gladly go to the ends of the earth,
or I would never move from this place again
only to feel its vibrations to the ground;
with breath, sadness, with wounds, senses,

I fell in love with the Truth,
all desires are his command,
I simply submit, for He, the Truth
he has conquered my soul,
he has taken possession
on the deepest thoughts,
freeing me to find peace
in its unadorned splendour.

I fell in love with the Truth,
with a refined tenderness, he shows me
perfection in every defect of mine,
no need for pretensions, whims
for He, the Truth, knows all about me,
and yet he takes me in his arms with abandon
Mar 11 · 94
the gardener
Maria Mitea Mar 11
give me your eyes, - heart, I want,
I want to touch it with my green thumb
and grow in it a garden with flowers of all colours,
next to the garden, I will build a small, small hut,
next to the hut, I will dig a smooth, smooth river
with clear, clear water,
through which the nectar of your kisses flow
Mar 11 · 1.2k
Maria Mitea Mar 11
love comes upon you
- everything and everyone disappears,
Mar 7 · 52
Maria Mitea Mar 7
the rain kisses the window
melancholy breaks the shiny glass
- a dream is born
Mar 7 · 150
Maria Mitea Mar 7
the body of the world dies slowly under the blue sky,
- ants are also in competition with death,
they recycle their ***** in plastic bags,
sunflower seeds chew their own shell,
the sun dies slowly on terra”s body pierced by white worms.
Mar 7 · 130
Call me
Maria Mitea Mar 7
from forgotten distances
search me among the shooting stars
catch me in a mysterious floating dream
kiss me in the middle of the night
promise me anything
Mar 7 · 168
night dream
Maria Mitea Mar 7
-  it was as if we were dressed in shmattes,
hungry and broken,
sometimes from pain, other times from joy,
so hungry
that we began to must each other's blood
scratching our tongues with tufts of straw,
as if we cleaned our impenetrable
like you would  clean the blackburn from the bottom of a shepherd's cauldron,

- we were also surrounded by fire pits,
the tongues of the flames touched you as if they tasted pink salt,
as sheep do it in the winter,
I could see haystacks burning in your eyes,
people lined up with buckets of water
they handed the buckets from hand to hand to  extinguish the fire,
some white birds were drinking the blood from  your lips,

- then the tongues of fire fled from the waters and harnessed  my eyes
they whipped at them,
shouts, screams, cries, children's laughter,
whinny horses, spreading sounds
until we woke up built-in two shores that were sinking at the bottom of the water.
Feb 8 · 162
Maria Mitea Feb 8
it's sad. but happy.
lonely. but not lonely.
a spark. of calmness. but a blister of days.
light waiting. for the ****** night.
the joy of. what also grows life. to be meaningless.
The music of Erik Satie
Feb 8 · 1.0k
the loss
Maria Mitea Feb 8
carved in stone

you can't read it

- you feel it

you just feel it
At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved in stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them.
Feb 4 · 249
There is no secret
Maria Mitea Feb 4
that I've died so many times
my body has forgotten how is to be ash,
ordinary mortals fill me with jealousy (of the gods
and those who were trying to test the hemispheres of death
they couldn't find out much,
they failed,
accusing me of being a fanatic captivated by the talent of dying,
- a madwoman running after extinctions,

I recognize,
death seems to be a joke that you cannot compare with the ecstasy in the ***** of love, nor with the light on the buds of the *******,

rounded ivory *******,
lips salty as tears,
everything burns
It burns in the fire,
It burns until you start breathing;
in you, in others, in the first cry, kiss,…
breathing  until you wake up,

in death,
as in life, we ​​are so visible,
and so invisible
since we were born,
and since we died,
our body moves through other bodies,
as the green moves through the leaves of a forest
and I breathe you like a green,

when I last died all that was left was one breath
which in the absence of a body infiltrates inside other bodies,

Indeed, when you breathe the walls of the heart emit light signals,
  I breathe you carefully, like a newborn
on whose face radiates a playful laugh,
apply small prana breathing techniques
(I hope you don't mind)

the entrances and exits of your chest are green paths,
without a way in or a way out to allow promises in the movement of love,
you talk about standing fixed in love, why? love is movement,
frozen love  is not even death, but a wall waiting to be torn down
even after a thousand years of waiting

I breathe through your blood; with thought, with soul, with eyes, with hands,
I run with my lips, I breathe you,
It's the unthought that breathes you in abundance
and above love, and that which I think.
I wrote this in Romanian. It is a translation. If something feels weird or doesnțt make sense, please let me know. I would appreciate it. So I can improve it. :)
Jan 30 · 334
I climb trees at night
Maria Mitea Jan 30
I climb trees at night
with my hands,
my soul,
with my lips,
and I pick the green leaves one by one,
one by one,
my hands become so small,
or, suddenly
they grow so big,
and so long
that I can't see them,
or I see them too well,
or, I feel them picking the little green leaves
and putting them in a sac that is attached to my body,
my shoulders,
holding tight
until I climb soft branches,
or I reach trees with big heavy branches,
where I stop and eat jam,
sweet jam
made from little leaves,
like a baby, I cover my head with leaves,
I dance in green leaves,
and  I jump in yellow leaves that ones were green leaves,
I am an old man that holds a green leaf în between his tongue and thees and sings from a Greenleaf,

I climb trees at night
as if I am swimming up in the sun rays,
I see little leaves with the little names written on them,

I climb trees at night
and it is in that night I wake up with no pain,
No tears, No regrets, No resentments,
In that night I wake up with a smile on my face,
like a newborn that climbs trees at night,

I never stopped climbing trees at night,
but last night I was climbing on Everest,
Jan 26 · 235
untamed light
Maria Mitea Jan 26
you nestling in my heart, insatiable thief, childish sigh,

you make me drunk with your lusts that suspend the moment,

you write, … write, … you listen, - the gramophone sings,

under the waltz of roses, I laugh, - I dance - I float - I fly like a bee

I gather you from thorns, from flowers, in the sea breeze I caress you,

I  absorb the honey of your thoughts, I embrace you, I embrace you

I embrace you I embrace you I embrace you… windy breeze,

we float, in the unknown light we die we die

we die, … we die dancing in live poetry, untamed light

you nestling in my heart, and then you make me cry.
Maria Mitea Jan 23
What are you doing darling?  I'm thinking of you today,
I think of you as a human,
(you buy milk,  take out the garbage, - clean the house)
then I repeat "stop thinking" I listen to you, believe me, I listen to you,

Let's not pretend today we don't wait for each other,
we don't see each other in the corner of the eye,

You know very well that I didn't leave and I didn't come,
(do not make me cry)
I have not forgotten, nor can I remember,
(do not make me cry)
even if I try, I can't forget you,
untamed immortality what have I done to you?
why do you bury yourself in oblivion,
come tell me what I did to you (do not make me cry)

Why did you call me?- then hide in words wrapped in lead,
That's why you call me? untamed divine thrill,
to ask my helplessness, if I ask you the same,
Come, and listen, see those sad poems marching on the streets
at the Rio Carnival,  decorated in sun feathers,
come, don't be silly, come, -
Lets at last, for one day, be lost in the rays of the sun
and the shadows of the sweet grass,

Stay with me where there is no breath of man and woman,
there is no reason to speak, no greedy words burned in incense,
no parting in death or touching whispers,
echo of mercy, play in the breath of the deaf depth,
Come, play, bathe in the light of me, let me pamper you,
you'll be the earth, I - thin grassroots,
We will admire the lovers bathing in kisses

Believe me, please, believe me, I can't afford to forget  you,
I don't know your face (forgive me for that too)
do not make me cry,
I can not afford to forget you, I have no way of forgetting,
(although today I tried to think of you as a human)

Jan 16 · 85
Maria Mitea Jan 16
Is not interested in observing
She is doesn’t want to be liked,
She's too young to play ”your way my way”
She doesn't care, she is cool
She sleeps at six o'clock
She dreams when you talk to her
She makes love only at night
She carries the time in her hair
She's great, she's Brilliant! she's out there,
Do you want to see her?
Find her if you can, if not
Love another, if you can

She doesn't have time to close her eyes on you,
Or touch your froggy skin,
She walks alone with the wolves
She kisses with the devils
She swims with the sharks

She is a Night Cat,
Xena, Nichita, Joan Darc,
Swiss Cheese on a white tablecloth
breathing through her own holes
next to a glass of wine
and a hand full of white grapes

Doesn’t care
Jan 14 · 274
The triangle
Maria Mitea Jan 14
this is unfair,
you are so unfaithful,
sleeping  with our secret
every single night,

I am out
Jan 14 · 878
Do Not
Maria Mitea Jan 14
Don’t be afraid of what you don’t know,
You are too strong to know everything
Too strong,
Can you hear me, too strong,

Do not be afraid of the crowds,
They are too small for you,
Petty muggers,
Hear. how they make noises like  starved  mosquitoes,

Do not be intimidated by knives,
Your eyes are too round to be unsharpened
Listen to your own steps, your own steps
Cutting. the dead. Dead. Corners. of the streets.
Jan 9 · 131
Maria Mitea Jan 9
humans, behave like a well-trained animal
who knows what tricks to do to get the bone
Jan 5 · 45
Maria Mitea Jan 5
frozen patterns, perfect landscape
moving horizontally

broken wrinkles angry on botox,
armpits scolding the sweat, - protesting
on chemical reactions

the pulse keeps beating
like a forgotten clock in an
empty house,

hungry voices
craving living presents
pungent smells
Everyone craving a living presence
Jan 5 · 119
A drop of live
Maria Mitea Jan 5
i remember
how with my cousin every summer
after rain we  picked up snails from the road and put them in the grass
for fear of not crushing them under our heavy boots  …
Dec 2020 · 474
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
the reality
of papet figurines
has collapsed
at the most invisible touch
Dec 2020 · 121
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
twill always be something
that you” ll  have to wait a little bit longer
Dec 2020 · 230
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
after she burned me
with her eyes
and turned me on all sides
with her words
we remained silent
like two fried eggs
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
So, I was tired, ( as you know :)
and decided to honour and surrender my tiredness  for as long as I write the poem, at list, ...

After surrendering:

Driving to pick up a client, - Hilda,

You know Hilda,
She is the wife of the ex Italian mafia driver,

- Hilda comes,
She is seeing me, - smiling happily
( last night in her email she was in lots of pain, I expected her to cry, ...)
- we drive,

She speaks, ... I drive and listen,
( my job is to listen and breathe)
How she applied for unemployment
and the difficulties, bureaucracy, and stress
of loosing her job because of Covid,

- I listen, ...  I am no longer tired, ...

I was happy to drive Hilda, ...
Reality wakes or strikes you up from any state, 😊
Dec 2020 · 172
The best poem ever
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
First voice:

It is about time to go to work!
You have to go to work 😾 !!!

- I don’t want to go to work
🙉 What I do now? !

Second voice:

Kick your, ... Maria
You can do it, ...!
Coman, ... one last day,

Maria’s voice:

I am tired 😴.
I really need rest!!!!!! 🤗❤️
Can anyone come up with the great idea and make a working week of 4 days?
Dec 2020 · 48
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
🧚‍♀️ ~  an worming glow radiating from my soul  to you all ~ 🧚‍♀️
Happy New Year!
Dec 2020 · 104
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
bodies - fisher nests
- let the cutch go
Involuntary letting go!
Dec 2020 · 172
You are my new moon
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
I don't need to feel your flesh,
Be innocent,  - it's so fresh,
You are my new moon, - stay,
Stay in my little mind, - blind me,
I'll hold you tight, tight
I won't let you go into words.
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
Hurt is your pride,
You go if you have to,
Love can’t leave first
Love hurts
I love you,
When you ask me to stay
I love you more and I fight
This is sacrifice’s desire,

You don’t trust?
How I could know
when this is hard for you to know
I love you,
What should I do?
Do I need time?

I can't make you wait,
your selflessness brakes your heart
Not me,
I can’t do this other way
Dec 2020 · 105
buried alive
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
in our own homes
i want to dig up my ancestors
-ask if they are willing to change places

- ask them who we are
where we come from
and where we are going
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