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  April 2015
volume 12 number 1
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Adeolu Emmanuel Adesanya
  Lynn Albanese
  Steven Alvarez
  Jonathan Beale
  Stefanie Bennett
  Jack G. Bowman
  Jennifer Bradpiece
  Don Kingfisher Campbell
  Michael Aaron Casares
  Beverly M. Collins
  William Crawford
  Pijush Kanti Deb
  Elisabeth Adwin Edwards
  John Elison
  Emily Fernandez
  Jeanie Greensfelder
  John Grey
  David Herrle
  Sonika Jaggi
  Strider Marcus Jones
  Phillip Larrea
  Emma Lee
  Marieta Maglas
  Matt McGee
  Christopher Mulrooney
  Dave Nordling
  Toti O'Brien
  Greg Patrick
  James G Piatt
  Frank Praeger
  April Salzano
  David Scriven
  LB Sedlacek
  Danielle Smith
  Jan Steckel
  Carl Stillwell
  Tim Tipton
  Philomena van Rijswijk
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  mailing list
Marieta Maglas
April 2015



photo by richard lee miller

    Marieta Maglas is a Romanian poetess. She has appeared in some journals, including the Velvetillusion Literary Magazine, The Secret (La Revista), FWM Magazine, and Thu Trang. She has been nominated at International Festival of Poetry in Canada and Mexico. Her poems were selected, and published on some anthologies at Xlibris, Sybaritic Press, Prolific Press, and others.



Cubic Dragons

There are colors of
blue embracing those of red
to vibrate in harmony.
There is a sense
of their movement above
the limits.
There is always a feeling in the sense.
The feelings are things.

Maybe the things have a beginning,
because we believe it,
and maybe,
there is neither beginning, nor end.

In the spring rain,
there are kissing statues.
In the silent houses
decorated with
shadows of shabby objects
on the walls,
there are lonely people
meditating about their life.

There is a time frame of vulnerability
for everything that is good

and for the hungry birds
in searching for seeds everywhere
as for those cancerous youngsters
having unimaginable pains,
still needing to be cured not till experience.
In the stories,
there are riders of the past
dressed in armor
to enter the mind's imagination and
all that is not the mind's imagination.

In the spring nights,
there is a moon becoming a curtain
for the great show
of the stars

form'd from the other stars,
no two alike,
and being

like beautiful women
wearing masks and
wide necklines, nor
like those worn by ballerinas that like to dress
in white to suggest
dandelions dancing to spread their seeds.

In the luxury shop windows,
there are gems looking like flowers
and flowers looking like gems.

In the Sysiphos dimension,
there are tired eyelids in abeyance.
Nothing bends from above ,everything falls down.

There are emerald northern lights.

In a puddle of sun,
there are emerald green, tattooed bodies
dancing tango.

There are cubic dragons,
and there are things that have been taken apart
to be put, then, back together in a wrong order.

So, there is self-loathing,
and there are feelings of worthlessness
in a life spent earning filthy lucre.
There are resentments to destroy the lives.
There are the wrong things that fall apart and
the wrong things that fall together with those
that are right.
There are words coming out in a wrong understanding
to be incorporated into bad memories.
There are wrongly imagined riders of the past.
Ascension dove feather and prying eyes
get at the meaning of the truths in the uprights
( there are many truths left ).

But there will never be

blue trees
and eternal bodies .

copyright 2015 Marieta Maglas