Sketchbook  Cristian Mocanu, RO

 

 

Holidays In Deva -a trilogy-   Cinquain Coming Home (A lot of Romanians are migrant workers in Western Europe. For the holidays they come home by car. Funny incidents used to happen at the border checkpoints, which were suppressed as of Jan.1-st) The joy of coming home! Forget propriety! The border guard is greeted with a kiss!     Mirror Tetractys Christmas Midnight Mass Son of God! You first came in a manger. In this midnight of ours you drop by. May my heart be Bethlehem to you now!     Lunes New Year's No pyrotechnics shed more light on my life than love. No champaign bubbles will cheer me if they are not shared. Will it be this year to bring my lonely wing a pair? The answer is still unspoken and hidden in the dark. Hold me, New Year's Eve in your warm, sweet embrace of hope.

 

The Anything-but-Divine Comedy or: Seeing Off A Dying Friendship -a trilogy- Rondeau Il Paradiso Beautiful were the five of us Like sunshine in the eyes that smile. Together bound by Psyche's guile Just like tomatoes in a truss. Four, strong and hearty; me, a wuss... We talked of beauty, dressed in style, Beautiful were the five of us Like sunshine in the eyes that smile. We were no strangers in a bus: We never felt more than a mile Apart; nor thought a fate so vile Could ever come to hit us thus... Beautiful were the five of us!     Kyrielle Il Purgatorio You broke apart, alas! such was your will. But prayers, luckily, can touch you still. Though you have cruelly broken the old bond: At least, stay where you are, don't cross that pond! My sight, deprived of you, just helps my ears Intent on you, your hopes and toils and fears. And, swifter than the echo, I respond. But please, stay where you are, don't cross that pond! It's Purgatory; so there still is hope. With it, I stay afloat and I can cope. You look the other way: what lies beyond? Oh no! Stay where you are, don't cross that pond, lest I should be a prophet's voice in vain, last caring sounds, turned off with mute disdain, an angel's last appeal, an useless wand: Poor souls, stay where you are, don't cross that pond!     Free Verse L'inferno It's a peaceful place. It may be called "Tom's Diner" or something along those lines; it has got all you ever dreamt of (provided it's material; don't ask for love or joy) nor will you actually get hold of your dreams, just like Tantalus couldn't I may even visit the place sometimes, you know (it's Hell or Sheol just for those who chose it) For me, it's just a weird place I might want to send some postcards from. I might write them right beside you, on the counter: I won't recognize you, nor be startled by your accent. (for Hell is only for the lonely). You will have nothing: you will grab a stranger by the hand but he won't call you "Al". You have sunk your bridges to your names even, to your faces or to your DNA. It's over. I may see you dead on a newscast, while I'm there, and fail to know it's you they're showing. It's odd, my friends: you still are in my prayers which cannot help you now. At night, I pray: "Lord, do not count me with the dead who are lost and cut off from your hand" * * Psalm 88.

 

 

Tanka Our love may be as fragile as the blossoms of this warm winter: but the beauty of this time is enough to make me fly!     Tanabata Day even the Heaven's River is spanned by a bridge. When I hear you, unseen one, our souls hold each other tight     Sijo Plant anything: you will not know whether your work is fruitful rejoice in toil, for it alone can warm your soul when fed by dreams. Cherish your love thus; don't ask whether the waves will drown it!     Not only the north wind: the talk about it makes me tremble! The young pine I hold dear, will it withstand such a harsh winter? Will sweet tidings of love come to me on the waves in turmoil?

 

 

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