Sunday, November 1, 2020





Only The Two Of Us


I hear you amazement of the light

scattering my raw self into letters

and into the paths of the blink of an eye

like the snow of a thought crying out

a forgotten confession to the world

repeated swinging between the silence edge

and the fall of a bird of water

splitting the woods into souls

over a shapeless map

the fingers of absurd draw constellations

among the grass threads of this just starting end

I dreamt you heard my very instant

but you are the leaving from the words

I dreamt to be your dream falling

over your eye turning the loneliness of the moon

someone knocks on the door of a tear

writing you as a wound from an April stone

in which eternity seeks its likeliness

but it is only the two of us in the mirror...




A One-Winged World


I flow untied from a mythical navel

like a breath through the atoms falling appart

that divides the face into time and immortality

resembling an aseptic confusion of gravity,

amorphous despairs cripple

the rainbow of a world scattered

on a microscope slide,

numbers watch over the embrace of death

when a mask smirk contaminates

this spherical symphony of a point

seeking its creator,

the sensation of a vivid outline

unravels me from the geometric agony

of a dream crashed

into the negative of a constellation,

at the edge of the light hangs

an innocent spring

that writes my body on the cross of an apple tree

wandering me in the round weeping of the moon

and I hear the loneliness in an angel

among numb letters

rolling in the wake of the flower field

and vowels arched in butterflies

a one-winged world.




A Ticket For Life


a wait in the oval of shadows

winds from the roots of pains

bridges of silence over

streets abandoned in dusty thoughts

and unpaired feelings

the trees knelt in an equation of the heart

and blend pluses and minuses on a circle's arc

ripped from a wounded horologe

a goodbye flows on the lips of a day

looking for its label on a shelf

full of illusions and blind numbers

doors are closing in a corner of an idea

souls are opening to a wounded memory

you reached the gravity of the night in a sleep

breathing the ashes of the flowers

someone taps formulas of hope on a keyboard

a green hum stains the silence of the windows

blossomed in oblivion

empty spaces roar phosphorescently on a screen

that deepens in the scream of deserted markets

the agony of apple tree blossoms

and in the spring lost on a lightless stage

squatting on the steps of time

a dream is begging for a ticket for life

but the time keeper has forgotten to come today in town

and in the iconic late inside his ragged pockets

the eye of tomorrow's hour is blinking




ALICE PUIU (Alice-Mihaela Puiu, born on November 2, 1962) Alice Puiu graduated from the Polytechnical University in Bucharest, Aerospace Faculty, and she is an aviation engineer by profession, a field she worked all her life in. She has always been in love with literature, especially poetry, but it is only nowadays that she lays down on paper everything she has murmured like an eternal enchantment for a lifetime. A close collaboration with the "Literary proceedings" of the "Expresia Ideii" Circle in Onești started in 2019, where she publishes poems, as well as literary reviews and travel impressions.


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