Thursday, December 23, 2010

So, what is Xmas for you?

..the red cheeks of children,
the scarves and the rush
the patches of snow
lips in strawberry crush
I finish today the tasks of tomorrow
I’ll make a new list of TO DO
and to borrow
more time more time
I need it for something
perhaps to arrange all these cards on a word string
the kitchen in frenzies
the turkey asleep
the spuds and the pies
and the microwave bleep
the tree in the corner the cat and the guests
and the million dollar last minute request
the presents wrapped up
the smiles in their eyes
the mulled wine smells good
(I ‘m having a high!)
the sneezing, the coughing
the ‘I finished I think’
the sore feet and headache
the ‘I need that drink’
my eyes getting heavy
my glass gleaming red
the sounds bypassing
the thoughts in my head
as I sit by the fire
they should now all agree
that mission’s accomplished

...and this is Christmas for me

picture taken from the internet

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Santa Claus Bailout Hearings

There are many concerns in the world...The biggest of them all, right now,  is this.....I tell you...

(video from You Tube)

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

1 2 1


so tough

on ears and throats


with missing

each other’s voice

these toes

frozen and curled

under rough

silent blankets

of faraway and waiting

only our thumbs

warm warm

alive with

significant letters


screens and

the meaning of days

“afflicted by love's madness all are blind”


I can’t see

those eyes

lip-reading my


(quote by Sextus Propertius)

Monday, November 29, 2010

Ziua cu trei picioare (Alternativă)

dimineaţa-mi întind oasele de femeie cuminte

storc scutur şi usuc şi îngerii pe faţa pernei

chiar din ochi reaşez florile de pe tapet

dar torc draci pe-o bucată de lemn

strâng bucătăria-ntre coapse

pun şi capacul pe muştar

mi-aud copiii crescând

scuip şi... frec argint

apoi mă dau jos

mirosul de pat gol şi de periuţă de dinţi lipsă persistă

în andrele batiste ciorapi păr şi pori

în secundele de dintre bigudiuri

în pleznetul de buze pe pahar

în foşnetul paginii

în fine

arunc pumnalul

mă spăl şi pe mâini

în mine fâlfâie o arteră ruptă

între capulets şi montagues nu se mai poate face nimic
Notă: textul de mai sus a fost rearanjat în pagină de Adrian Firica
care şi-a dorit pentru o fracţiune din timpul lui (şi aşa preţios) să devină fie regizor fie o chestie de agăţat pe perete.  Avem nevoie de oameni flexibili. May God grant his wish...:)


Saturday, November 27, 2010

ziua cu trei picioare

de dimineaţă îmi întind oasele în formă de femeie cuminte

apoi cu limba despicată în două îmi iau solzii la şlefuit

toc draci pe-o bucată de lemn

storc, scutur şi usuc îngerii din faţa de pernă

mi-aud copiii crescînd

scuip şi frec argint

din ochi reaşez florile în tapet

strîng bucătăria-ntre coapse

apoi mă dau jos

şi pun capacul la muştar

mirosul de pat gol şi periuţă de dinţi lipsă persistă


păr, batiste, andrele, pori, ciorapi


secundele dintre bigudiuri


pleznetul din buze de pahar


foşnetul paginii



cică între capulets şi montagues

nu se mai poate face chiar nimic

arunc pumnalul

şi mă spăl pe mîini

în mine fîlfiie ceva cu artera ruptă şi zic

Sylvia Plath, închide te rog gazul!

de mîine se anunţă căderi masive în toate zonele

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Say ‘aaAaAAaaaAa’...but quietly

on the silence ward

we tip-toe in


dressed like wounds

and fiddle with


where the chin

hits the chest



stretching them

wide into


over milk teeth

until tongues

lay dry

as prunes

Monday, November 01, 2010


Hello Halloween

After a whole year of waiting and hoping this night will come it finally happened…

Halloween has arrived.

The above pumpkin hand picked weighed and eye-measured in Sainsbury has finally met his destiny: the scariest carved vegetable to ever be displayed on my door step.

Passers by? …terrified.

Cats?...terrified (including the one recently adopted)

Little boys and girls?...forgot their names and screamed for their Mummy

Their Dads?...screamed for their Mummy and asked for beers.

Sweets filled up the house, my kids faces, the kitchen has become a decayed tooth prior to extraction.

In a word?


(whatever, 3 words!)

But I ask you, readers, followers, time wasters and accidently comers to this blog.

What the hell did the carvers bellow think?

I mean, can they not tell the difference between hallow-art (see above) and their poor attempts to create scary pumpkins? It seems embarrassing to even display them as, you can all tell, the following vegetables have been massacred chopped and beheaded for no other reason but …boredom.

I shall let you judge this, for I know, in my heart and in my silly pretty head that there is one winner and one winner only…

Good bye Halloween!

 (my favourite...:D)

T I M E  W A I S T E R S!


Thursday, October 21, 2010

The roses are waiting

(this poem explores how Gunsel and I decided to leave our posh jobs for till jobs at Waitrose)

the roses are waiting

but I can not

and Gunsel can’t either

so full of cravings

my peace, her time

we seem to get neither

alas, we have tried

our best and our worst

to make this a living

the moment has come

we’re raising a toast

our jobs up we’re giving

don’t pity us, reader

don’t even try

to make this last longer

our jobs are dead

our heads are down

but our will just got stronger

we’ll pick up the brushes

we’ll handle the tills

the shelves we shall fill if we have to

so, no more debating!

at Waitrose (no-frills)

the roses are waiting

Friday, October 15, 2010

How to train your dragon


ieşi din starea bizon, darling

dacă vrei să scoţi fum pe nas

şi pleacă în direcţia cealaltă

sau în lapland

direcţia asta aparţine altor specii

descoperite din timp,

cu poze în enciclopedii şi viscere în formol

în multe din muzeele lumii

tu nici măcar nu mai ai nume latin

evoluezi cu un singur gînd pe an

ţi s-au lasat nervii mai jos de genunchi

şi dacă muşti nu mai moare nimeni

lupii se uită la tine şi cască

şi tu

tu încă mai crezi că mărimea contează


snap out of the bison mood, darling

if you want to blow smoke up your nose

and aim for the other direction

or Lapland

this direction belongs to other species

discovered in due time

with pictures in encyclopedias and viscera soaked in formaldehyde

in many museums of the world

you haven’t even got a Latin name anymore

you evolve with one thought per year

your nerves have dropped lower than your knee level

and if you bite nobody dies any longer

the wolves are yawning watching you

and you

you still believe that size matters

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Thursday, September 09, 2010

Dove with green peas (why?)

his kids wear bibs 100% silk that stay white through the day

he’s growing wild orchids in the deepest darkest circles under the eye

he makes jelly out of dry words with broken fingers

his dragons sit fetch and roll before breakfast

he can pat his head and rub his belly while sawing buttons for orphans

he can spin plates on the tip of his mind

his books have pages no One can turn

he looks like a stolen Picasso behind a kitchen cabinet

he spits diamonds in fate’s face and walks off whistling  

his universe locked itself in and threw the key through my eyes


every night I’m getting interviewed by the wind, with my will cuffed, with a moon in my face but I’m saying nothing...

Friday, August 20, 2010

Return to innocence


I did not need a mirror to see my blood
deserting its own artery for another
nor did I need my flesh flaking
in the view of the public
at the sound of this name or that

the quest?

I need it
to give my soldiers their Caligula
someone to follow to their death
with eyes tightly shut
and fingers clenched to their swords
a pair of cracked lips to sip wine with
from rusty pateras
in the early hours of dawn
before the enemy strikes

my hands?

oh, my hands are innocent
the left will caress young Jew hair
the right will carry on
playing Bach

Monday, August 16, 2010

Sunday, August 15, 2010


Written by Wislawa Szymborska, read by Flora Coker

Advertisement from doc|UWM on Vimeo.

Friday, August 06, 2010

AbFab Holiday (...and this has nothing to do with poetry, is to do with France for God's sake!..)

...and as I return from France , rounder round the hips of course, (they eat carbs down under, you know?) and smelling a lot more like Jean Paul Gaultier than 'fish and chips' I feel already light headed...mmm...something to do with the cheese? (NO - fat is beautiful!)...or maybe with the pain au chocolat consumed in huge amounts every morning (pain through chocolate?: NEVER!) it must be the number of miles from Chateau Lez-Eaux, Normandy to London via the P&O wobbly ferry (driving on the wrong side of the road never helps!)....or no, no, no...let's be honest here: it has got to be the wine - and in France the cheaper the better 'vin de table rouge'...gimmie gimmie gimmie...and they did...for about 1 euro/ bottle (funny that, as they charge 50 cents for using the toilets in some restaurants with lights on sensors on/ off)... I could not resist filming myself and my best friend Patsy trying the 'crem de la crem' of French wine and its consequences...
sweety darlings, je ne regrette rien....

Sunday, July 18, 2010


afgane, uite ce mişto e afară!

vino să ne iubim pe lire sterline în Greenwich Park
sub stejarii liberi şi groşi
vom face copii cu ochi albaştri ca marea nordului
îi vom învăţa să joace şotron
pe ruta Kabul-Londra-retur
în timp ce morţii noştri 
se vor călca în picioare pentru medalii de tablă
semnate de ultimul PM

vino afghane
împachetează-ţi doar ura 
şi sandalele pline de glezne zbîrcite şi praf
soldaţii le vor spăla cu ochii secaţi de amintirile
celor explodaţi acum 5 minute

lasă-ţi femeile şi copii în bălţile lor de sînge
uită ruinele şi putoarea cadavrelor de sub ele
vom merge în Tiger-Tiger
şi vom dansa pe Soulja Boy Tell’em la buricu’ gol
cu cîte o Stella în mînă

te aştept la 17.00 GMT fix
în king’s cross la starbucks
cînd ţara mea şi ţara ta se pupă pe frunte
în faţă la BBC
cu o mie de pumnale în spate

vino afgane, 
vom bea Earl Grey şi Cappuccino Grande apoi
ne vom lipi tîmplele de la vest la est
cu ultimul glonte plătit din taxele mele

for Queen and country
Allah Karim

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

What's up, Tiger Lily?

Pink Tiger Lily Lovely Images

I’m driven by the power of his lower lip

when is still
I’m a mammoth in Ice age
to be discovered
and studied –
(especially my untouched by human

when it moves
I turn into a tiger lily
pink petals open up slowly
the only scent there is
in the rhythm of
a summer minute
that could crush
and its belongings 

Sunday, July 04, 2010


în căpruii lui 

marea urla, se tăvălea

ca o femeie în travaliu


unul după altul

valuri în spume sepia

pescăruşi cu penele grase de dor

izbucneau intermitent dintre gene

ţipînd din el


de m-ar fi privit atunci

universul şi-ar fi ars

toate stelele

într-un singur


da, acolo

Sunday, June 27, 2010


am deschis ochii...
din pori şi buze
ne curgea abundent albastru
(trăsesem probabil cerul adînc, în plămîni)

sub noi iarba
ne asculta inimile
încolăcite de acelaşi şarpe,

într-o mînă ţineam coapsa udă a rîului
în cealaltă coapsa albă a lunii
între ele pămîntul se rotea încet
ca o linguriţă de argint
în ceaiul cu miere

am închis ochii...
(undeva greierii-şi chemau aproape noaptea)

a urmat
de la sine

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The art of losing

and knowing how to is a
painted with
every feeling you own
onto a canvas
you never knew
you had

the more you will stare
into its smile
the less you understand
reason and purpose
integrity dissolves
like an aspirin in a see-through glass
on your kitchen table
nights turn into days
days turn into nothing

your universe cracks
slowly at first
then faster and faster
until nothing else stands
on its feet

the only person you have
in the whole world
is Y O U
don’t lose it
when you lose!

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious spus

din prima, fără să bîlbîi
în mijloc de scenă cu reflectoarele albe
lingîndu-mi gleznele ca un labrador
nu mi-a tremurat vocea
nici nările
braţele s-au ţinut de trup
ca doi cavaleri de arcul întins

şi ca aţa prin ac am împins atent gîtul subţiat înainte
prin golul de aer ce se căsca de jur împrejur cît un colac de salvare
apoi bărbia, nasul, ochii, unul cîte unul
pupilă prin pupilă/ iris prin iris
pînă cînd limba
a trecut dincolo şi s-a înfipt

sala se ridică, vui, se umflă ca un plămîn ieşit din mare
şi încremeni cu palmele lipite
eu nu mă mai ţineam de nimic,
zîmbeam şi adunam florile

atunci tăcerea
mi-a luat craniul în mîini, l-a dat pe spate
şi cu degetul mare
mi-a şters încet şi apăsat buzele de roşu

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Bono recites Bukowski (BRB)

'Roll the dice' by Charles Bukowski, recited by Bono

Saturday, June 05, 2010

Polka dot

rochiile cu buline se deosebesc
de toate celelalte rochii

ele îşi poartă femeile cu
(mo)tivul pe faţă
indiferent de ce le e scris
fiecare bulină este un punct pe I
dilatat într-o pereche de buze
ţuguiate perfect
un crater pe suprafaţa inimii
descoperit din greşeală
de gloria unui bărbat profesionist
cu lunetă

rochiile cu buline nu pot fi comparate
nici între ele şi nici
cu cele în carouri
(carourile sînt un fel de hotare mici şi nervoase)
pot fi în schimb
uşor confundate cu pojarul
ori alte chestii din copilărie
dar nu...

vezi bulina asta?
aici a fost înfipt
ultimul steag
de exemplu

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


it’s not for me to say
when my sun shall set
in your heart
it’s a clock’s job
God is checking it out on his wall
and pushes the mary-go-round of time
with his finger
sipping seconds and months
from the cup of eternity

I’m lucky
on my wall there are no clocks
no paintings
no posters
or pictures of you
but a long list
of people I’d rather be
right now

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Adagio in D minor

mîinile tale se strivesc în poala unui
trup inert cu obraji palizi
aripile, ochii, buzele
‘Made in heaven’
de unde probabil ai şi căzut
ori alunecat ori te-a împins cineva

cînd înghiţi, mărul lui adam se zbate
între moarte şi viaţă şi
imediat de sub
scorojită de ură a
pămîntului izbucnesc vulcanii
ca un hohot din coşul pieptului
împroşcînd lavă peste iarba proaspăt cosită

vuietul încă se mai aude
într-un punct
mai sus de tropicul
cancerului pe care razele nu mai
cad incandescent şi perpendicular de mult

pe planeta asta cuvintele sînt
mai rare ca aerul
nu au voie
nu ştiu
nu pot

pună mîna
pe steag să-l fluture
să spargă craterii de gheaţă
ci doar să îndemne la luptă şi haos
iar pămîntenii mei incă nu au descoperit curajul

eu îţi privesc miinile strivite în poală
din spatele lor
tu înghiţi
lava urcă
ne ajunge pîna la rotule,
pînă la bărbii, pînă la lumina ochilor
de unde numai soarele ne mai poate orbi

Friday, April 30, 2010


...viaţa se derulează


cu stîngăcie
spre mal
ca o funie
împletită din
şi aşteptare


împărţită în
o inimă
cu odăi
în care


şi inutil
să se mute
pentru a
mai apuca
o zi...

28 Days Later Soundtrack - In The House - In A Heartbeat
Found at abmp3 search engine

Monday, April 26, 2010

Sunday, April 25, 2010

How to train your dragon


Another kids story...

Stuck for two hours or so with popcorn and two little boys in the dark...(make that three)...
A list of things-I’d-rather-do-on-a-Sunday pops to mind: reading, listening to classical music (found a bunch of CD’s in a box under my bed the other day), washing my hair, pairing up socks, watching the magnolia tree grow, counting the marathon runners...
But no, they insisted I come along...


Oh, well: 3D glasses/ tickets/ soda/ popcorn/ premier sits. So far - so good, let’s get through the hard bit...I'm bracing myself...

So, 10 minutes pass – I’m not bored...
30 go – this is actually ok...
1.00 hour – I like it.
1 hour and a bit - I love it!!
Towards the end I was fascinated, in tears, cheering, and shouting at the kids to be quiet...


Not everything that looks and behaves ugly is bad...people always resist change...and if you haven't got what it takes to probably have something better up your sleeve...use it! If you can't beat them, join them...

I now know how to train a dragon.
Do you?

(Well, that's just a glimpse of it...)

Friday, March 12, 2010

Unlike others

you’re one tough tree branch
that would hold the nests
of all birds flapping their wings
in my sky

you’re so beautifully disguised
as a bathrobe
waiting, waiting
long after the running waters have stopped
soft and still
to be filled up
by me

you’re by far
the loudest thunder
striking the same spot
over and over
despite no weather warnings

you’re so me..

you’re welcome

Monday, March 01, 2010

In other words...

perhaps is not all
that bad
perhaps the way I see it
and the way you see it
are just two poles
of the same Earth
spinning around a dying sun
for its survival
in other words
the going backward
and the going forward
the yesterdays and the tomorrows
are just coordinates
a dot
on God’s graph
the unpredictable trajectory
of fate
on some wall
in Haven

oh, me too...

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Pigeon impossible day

A Sunday when all should have been about eating cucumber sandwiches, drinking Cabernet, watching telly, browsing the net, browsing the net, browsing the net, browsing the net, reading the paper and generally nagging.

However, as things are not always what they seem, people were lost, then found then lost again...missiles and rockets launched and red buttons ...(well, to press or not to press?).

Anyhow, today was pretty much like the video with the pigeon impossible (see somewhere above).

An army of people has been involved, their efforts not spared and as much as I would like to put their names here (or their address, bank details and dates of birth) they are my secret agents, therefore they shall remain nameless and forever praised (by my Government, anyway).

I appreciate your patience while I am blubbering about 'stuff', I’m sure you want to know who was lost and who was found? Right? I can now confirm that is all about one person only...and not any person either, but my Mum travelling from Greenwich (London, UK) to Galati (Galati, Romania).

Due to extreme weather conditions, a lost telephone directory,its panicky owner, cheap airline (should they/ shouldn't they, depart/ land, today/ ever?), unable-to-cope-with-stressful-situations-or-without-someone-to-take-charge-mother and a few thousand miles between the countries where the action was taking place (i.e.Roamnia - UK), I can assure you that the MI5 and Scotland Yard were on 'code red' doing everything in their power to calm things down.

Though 'British are a great nation because they can laugh at themselves...By themselves we mean others and by laughing we mean invade...'(I heard this on a commercial break, while waiting for the computer to bleep and the phone to ring).

So all being well, we would like to report no registered life losses (not to my knowledge, anyway) and, while continuous monitoring shall remain our primary concern, I would like to dedicate a little song to myself, before the wine going into me as we speak should dig deeper into one's system...for a while to come.

I would like you to help me here, so stand up! Go on! Wipe that smile of you face as a start! Put your right hands (only one if you have it free, it would do!) to your hearts (for the ones who haven’t got a heart aim for the left nipple) and look straight ahead (or bored with a hint of hope!). Now, do not mumble the words, the song was written for me (and my predecessors)a few centuries ago, have a little respect, for God’s sake!
(Ready? Now press play...)

 Queen - God Save the Queen .mp3
Found at bee mp3 search engine

...Corina the 1st (C R) out.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Poem for an X - …exploring the relationship between [some] men and space

You had enough of me? I often seem to wonder
Sometimes I cry, my face turned to the wall
I know, it’s silly yet I can’t stop but ponder
The little things like: Does he care at all?

I then run to the mirror and turn my lips blood red
I take out the mascara, the blushers and instead
Of trying to forget you...Oh, I am such a fool
I’m rushing to your door-step, breaking another rule.

I count to three, a thousand and sometimes I loose count
I lean, peek through your key hole without making a sound
All I can see is darkness and dust: an empty place
For you must always have been my favourite waste of space

Saturday, January 30, 2010

cold blue...

my hands are freezing
unlike the river flowing through me
pebbles and lava
fire and hell
sliding from one heart chamber
to the next
a snake
melting all that I am
in its way

my hands are freezing
you hold them
too tight perhaps
I can’t stop thinking
that there’s nothing
than my hands
right now
but your gaze

Sunday, January 24, 2010

U turn

some people driving on motorways
do unexpected U-turns
and somehow
on that very split second
(before you curse and call them names!)
you envy them.
you envy them for the pure and utter honesty
spreading inside their brain
like swastika in Europe 1939

and although
all written-by-man laws
would condemn them
(and condemned they will be!)
there’s that one
the one no one’s talking about
the one you would follow
on your motorway
on a sunny winter day
like this
for example...

Sunday, January 10, 2010

10th of January 2010 (ready, steady, go!)

10th of January, Milky Way, Earth, Europe, UK, England, London, Lee, Upwood Road, sitting room...

Bloody freezing!


No need to panic...Life is not a box of chocolates but a skating rink at the moment.
I slide from one day to the next on shorter breaks of light and memories of summer and smells of BBQs.

New resolutions? Do you really want to know them? Sure:

* Happiness, if you hear me hit me as hard as you can, whenever you can, as soon as you can, as merciless as you fancy...I shall not dodge any of your punches or kicks or bullets, in fact I’ll run towards anything you throw at me. I promise! (‘call meee!’)

* A glass of Cabernet! (what do we say?) – NOW!

Thank you..:)

So, here it is…Another year!!!!!… says my calendar, my personal alarm, my mobile phone, my lap top, my passport, my husband, my children, my Mum, my diary, my friends, my microwave, my colleagues, my cousins, my driving license…

‘says who?’ – asks a voice inside my head...'

‘I like you, whoever you are...muwahahaha’…