Free
essential readings flow over the sky
in scattered light feathers of transparency,
souls of angels dancing in abstract patterns of joy,
leaving behind the dull grey led of stormy clouds.
take the sun for a heart
to fill you with the rhythm of light,
overflowing the limits of your human syncope
and the chasms of your mind.
I am there, dissolving in the blue,
setting and rising, silent ray following the sempiternal shine,
eroding heart growing again to be human
remembering that I was once meant to be born free.
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90 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016
Photo: Adela Galasiu
John’s Day
It was a kind reminder of a Saint’s day
moved too soon in the life after life
where flowers never wither, and rivers are always fresh,
and the human heart is forever coherent.
John has not killed any dreadful dragons
still, in a humble sacrifice
he has blessed others and has made possible the glory
of the true Life.
I have found these faint memories
in the depths of an imaginary drawer
with fields of gold tenderly waving in the wind
like the breath of my father on his birthday.
Dedicated to my father, John, born on St. John’s day, June 24th.
90 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016
Photo: Photobuket
Not the Saddest Poem
Tonight I could write the saddest poem of all, yet I choose not to.
Lights draw constellations for muses and the skies have stars in their eyes.
I loved him and often he loved me too.
Just as love is eternal, he once belonged to my ardent kisses.
On nights like this he held me in his arms.
He kissed me so many times under infinite blues.
Tonight I write this poem left glowing in the dark:
Not one of pain, but the one of a love full of passion.
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90 words, memyselfandela, 2014
Last Rose
Behind the fences of my soul
Where foxes did not need to hunt
And hares lived in bliss
I had grown you my garden of roses.
The wolf and the lamb in my heart
Were living always together,
No affliction or fear had come upon them
In the quiet shelter of this world.
You have come and then left like a thief
Greedily taking my defenses, merciless crushing my peace.
Now that I’m broken and cold like a dying stone,
Away from all sanctuary, my heart blooms your last rose.
Photos: Adela Galasiu
90 words, memyselfandela, 2014
memyselfandela 