Waves
as I leave my marks
on the sand grinded by invisible teeth
I am followed submissively
by the force lying there underneath
do you know what amazing stories
the sea has told me last night?
of sea horses and drifting wood
and of death holding me tight
dancing madly in a waltz
of rippled lace, dragged back and forth
it gently caresses my ankles
slapping me suddenly from south and from north
roaring like an angry monster
that wants to engulf the whole modern time
embracing my being
in a moment where it belongs to nobody, but is all mine.
100 Words, Memyselfandela/Adela Galasiu 2015
Photos, Adela Galasiu, Isle of Wight, UK
Globular Clouds
Photos: Adela Galasiu, July 2015
The Return to Innocence
Memory. One of the strongest muscles in our being. It can contract and ruin your life crushing you underneath or it can gently lift your soul in the light, no matter what life throws at you.
When I was a child my grandmother used to have in a corner of her garden a columbine that used to grow again and again every year. I remember how fascinated I used to be as a little girl by the filigree shape and the delicate yet robust structure of this flower. I could study it day after day when it bloomed or when it’s petals were falling. I used to be very caring with the flowers. And when I say flowers, I mean beings, living creatures that I respected deep in my child’s heart. It never ceased to amaze me and make me happy whenever I saw it, because only there, in that corner of the garden, hidden in shadow under a lilac tree one could have found my columbine. There were no others, it was unique and the neighbours had none. It’s incredible how simple things that adults don’t even notice can be such an awesome thing for a child.
Many years I grew up with the beautiful columbines, studying them as they opened their purple-blue flowers. Columbines meant holiday, freedom and childhood. Not in so many words, but with a warm cosy feeling deep within. Words meant nothing then, only the heart was full of feelings and of a light that an adult is losing somewhere on the way.
This year I was contemplating my bare garden, frozen and with no trace of life. Then suddenly an incredible invisible force, a singular touch of grace has awaken the life in the sleeping buds and wrinkled flowers that rose their heads and stretched their beings in the warm sunshine. Then mesmerised I have discovered hundreds of columbines.
Is it God’s message that life is beautiful and full of diversity on a multitude of layers at the same time? Or is it just a cosmic coincidence? No matter what it is, it has brought back to me that warm cosy feeling in the midst of a busy life full of stress. The morning when I saw the columbines bloom I felt how one must feel when they win the lottery. To others this means nothing. To me it means the return to innocence.
400 words, memyselfandela, June 1st 2015
Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2015
Nocturne
I am a sea of love
Coming and going on my bare soul
Tides of thoughts washing
Day and night
My forever blue
Skyline.
25 words, memyselfandela, September 2014
Photo: Adela Galasiu, September 2014
In Blue
losing myself
in blue eyes
that plunge
the very essence of me
to unfathomable depths
of azure
hurled to highest stratosphere
a human rocket
launched by penetrating gaze
of cobalt light sky
surrendering to
blue eyes
where dark lashes dart
flit – soar – dance
as birds above whitecapped waves
on twin sapphire seas
© Gregory Alan Dunbar
me perdre
dans les yeux bleus
qui plongent
l’essence même de moi
aux profondeurs insondables
d’azur
lancé à la plus haute stratosphère
une fusée humaine
lancé par le regard pénétrant
de la lumière du ciel de cobalt
s’abandonner à
yeux bleus
où les cils noirs de fléchettes
flit – s’envoler – danse
comme les oiseaux au-dessus des vagues plafonee en blanc
sur les deux mers de saphir
To Blossom Blue – Lake Of Tears
“I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding in ways of the fire burned.
I’m crying, I’m crying in ways of the nightbird.
No more is there one to lay by my side.
I’m straying, I’m straying in nightmares all the time.
A little something I know,
A little somewhere I go,
Reminds me of you.
To blossom blue is to blossom without you.
To blossom blue…
I’m breaking, I’m breaking but I cannot bear to.
I’m staring, I’m staring but I cannot see you.
For no more are you to lay by my side…
I’m weeping, I’m weeping no more then this second time.
A little something I know,
A little somewhere I go,
Where the sweet waters flow,
Reminds me of you…
A little something I know,
A little somewhere I go,
Where the sweet waters flow,
Where the mistletoes grow,
Reminds me of you.
To blossom blue is to blossom without you.
To blossom blue is to blossom without you.”
in blue
losing myself
in blue eyes
which plunge
the very essence of me
to unfathomable depths
of azure
hurled to highest stratosphere
a human rocket
launched by penetrating gaze
of cobalt light sky
surrendering to
blue eyes
where dark lashes dart
flit – soar – dance
as birds above white capped waves
on twin sapphire seas
——————————
memyselfandela, 2012
Photo: Photobucket
memyselfandela 