My very dear Winter

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My very dear Winter,
Let all the stars to shine,
Inside my  burning hummer
Through all the blackened nights.

You could recall the fire
From all the missing lines
While dancing with a flier
Behind of mirror’s  times.

On eyes of snowing, running
The wish, the step, the mind,
I paint you as  my saving
And loving angel, kind.

And even if the hours
Scream too aloud on days,
My very dear Winter,
Hug all my wildest ways.

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In response to The Daily Post – Photo Challenge, Serene

Experimental by nature

“Life is an experiment in which you may fail or succeed. Explore more, expect least.” 
– Santosh Kalwar

“No amount of experimentation can ever prove me right; a single experiment can prove me wrong.” –  Albert Einstein

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Deva, Romania

“All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.” –  Ralph Waldo Emerson

“It’s much easier on the emotions when one sees life as an experiment rather than a struggle for popularity.” – Criss Jami

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Deva, Romania

“See now the power of truth; the same experiment which at first glance seemed to show one thing, when more carefully examined, assures us of the contrary.”  –  Galileo Galilei

“Not only are there meaningless questions, but many of the problems with which the human intellect has tortured itself turn out to be only ‘pseudo problems,’ because they can be formulated only in terms of questions which are meaningless. Many of the traditional problems of philosophy, of religion, or of ethics, are of this character. Consider, for example, the problem of the freedom of the will. You maintain that you are free to take either the right- or the left-hand fork in the road. I defy you to set up a single objective criterion by which you can prove after you have made the turn that you might have made the other. The problem has no meaning in the sphere of objective activity; it only relates to my personal subjective feelings while making the decision.” –  Percy Williams Bridgman

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Romania

“The logic of the symbol does not express the experiment; it is the experiment. Language is the phenomenon, and the observation of the phenomenon changes its nature.” – Carlos Fuentes

“Like most arts, the link between the mind and the pen can chain you like an enslaved workaholic. Even on an intended vacation you suddenly have this killer urge to record whatever the vacation may teach.” – Criss Jami

“All progress is experimental.” –  John Jay Chapman

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Romania
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Romania

In response to The Daily Post- Photo Challenge, Experimental

Live your beautiful life! While there is life, there is hope!

 

Green Tea – My mean

 

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Greetings coming from its point,
Raising smiles over the time,
Eager plays under the rhymes.
Energy sparks every joint,
Naturally gets sublime.

Tea might run in cup of heart
Early mornings to outpoint
Algorithms which play the card.

Me and cup of tea, my green.
Days becoming kind to mean.

Windows to the Blue 

Letters are dancing through history’s book

With memories hugged in arms of its love,

In corner of thinking of what did they look

While writing the stories which flight with the doves.

 

 

 

Time is refreshing the files on the days  

When mornings are hugging the earth with their will,

When  passing the valleys of wonders  still pay

Some whispers through mind to the wish to fulfill. 

 

I’m running to dawns and catching my Blue 

When windows are eyes to  the letters of skies,  

While writing the stories and welcome them through 

A new stage of flying which shine blue and rise.  

@Simona Prilogan – October 2017

 

Regards from my ordinary Blue! 😘

In response to The Daily Post Photo Challenge – Windows 

Deepest dream

Solace
Behind of smiling flowers, behind of lights of stars
I saw on other worldliness the bridge up to my peace.
I’m still behind of shadows and write in other books
A long poem to Life while dancing with my tears.
While running in the darkness in winter’s nights to reach
The whole embrace of mornings and giving up the scream
Of all the painful hours, still looking to my bridge,
I dare myself, while singing and live the deepest    dream!
While heavy rain is falling in all my winter days,
While singing with a faker which just broke out my faith,
I dare myself to walk through hope’s and mornings rays
Ahead of lately hours, to catch the dream onset.
 rebel

Nepotriveală în înțelesuri sau pierderea potrivelii

A fost un fel de potriveală a nepotrivelii bineînțeles. Că tocmai ce rostisem într-un cerc frumos de handover, alcătuit din nu mai puțin de 20 de suflete, un cuvânt magic: Coc, ( de la Coca Cola). Era o dimineață ploioasă de iunie iar eu tocmai prezentam colegilor raportul de gardă. Eram nursă în “charge” și explicam frumușel tot ce se întâmplase în noaptea respectivă. Probabil că aveam o expresie facială foarte serioasă în momentul în care am susținut că doamnei “X” îi place Coc, deci ar fi bine ca medicația să fie dată cu “Coc”… Amu, nu știu exact cum o fi sunat “Coc”-ul meu, că lumea începuse brusc a chicoti iar peste chicoteala lor aud glasul managerei exprimând o mirare a mirărilor. Colegul aflat în dreapta mea, îmi șoptește în ureche ceea ce înseamnă “Coc” în felul în care eu pronunțasem. Phaaaii!!! Nu vă spun cum am crezut că o să întru adânc în fundația clădirii de rușine. Că voiam să mă ascund oriunde, și că așa cum stăteam noi toți într-un cerc, mi-am văzut toate karmele rânjind într-un ochi de râsu-plansu’… Mi-am scuzat pe repede înainte engleza mea și am reluat fraza cu doamna căreia îi place Coca Cola, să fim înțeleși!!! Și mi-am amintit brusc de toate serile în care vizitasem McDonaldul din centrul Mansfieldului și ceream un “Coc”… Văleu, Engleza, bat-o vina!!!

Revin cu nepotriveala asta haioasă, la care sper să ați reușit să-i dezlegați potriveala. Pentru cei ce nu au dezlegat-o, spun doar că înseamnă partea masculină cu pricina…
Iar eu am rămas cu sechele ale gândirii pe spinarea pronunției. Și încerc să înțeleg totuși cum potriveala dialectului din Mansfield mi-a adus o nepotriveală de toată jena cu pronunția mea de om rătăcit în ale englezismelor.

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Eram într-o pauză de masă, bucurându-ne de soare, afară în curtea companiei. Mă sună Florina! Eu, bucuroasă, răspund plină de insuflețire și reușesc doar să spun colegilor că voi vorbi în românește. Cu speranța că mă vor înțelege și nu se vor supăra. Ok, no problem, îmi replică Trudi. Și încep eu a turui vrute și nevrute de zile mari cu Florina. Că fac aia, că fac aialaltă, ca ea a făcut aia, că ar face aialaltă. Și cum îi dau eu într-o ardelenească presărată cu dor, văd fețele colegilor mei privindu-mă ciudat. Eram prea prinsă în bucuria mea de a vorbi românește cu o prietenă. Și făceam probabil multe în conversația mea, că la un moment dat, Trudi se răstește către mine: Te rog, nu mai înjura!

Termin convorbirea și Trudi îmi explică cum suna injuratul meu: cu fac, fac, fac… Bineînțeles că m-am amuzat în barbă! Explic tuturor cum în limba mea sunetele din  “fac” înseamnă cu totul altceva. Și ne amuzăm apoi copios cu toții. Nu înainte ca Trudi să își explice un fenomen: de ce par vecinii ei antipatici… Păi dacă o tot dau oamenii cu “fac” în sus, “fac” în jos,normal că nu prea au popularitate! Nepotriveală în potriveală!

Cu “făcutul” este mai complicat în nepotriveală, așa că de cele mai multe ori pierd potriveala, dar cu “Coc“ul tot nu m-am lămurit cum era hiba și dacă ne întâlnim la un suc, precis o să beau o “Coca Cola”.  Engleza, bat-o vina!  La voi cum este?

Vicar Water Country Park

Vicar Water is a small river in Nottinghamshire, England. It is a tributary of the River Maun, and runs through an area which was once the royal hunting ground of Clipstone Park. It gained its present name in the early nineteenth century, and was dammed in 1870, in order to make a trout fishery, which was used to stock the lakes at nearby Welbeck Abbey. Since the cessation of coal mining, much of it has been incorporated into a country park, and is a designated Local Nature Reserve.

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The river joins the River Maun near Clipstone where there is a hunting lodge, built in 1164 and known to have been used by King John. The ruins are grade II-listed and a scheduled ancient monument.  The name of the river was Warmebroke at the time, and it was not called Vicar Water until the early nineteenth century. In  the seventeenth century, large tracts of land were given to the Duke of Newcastle and the Duke of Portland, and the river and its surroundings became part of the estate of the Duke of Portland. The 5th Duke of Portland constructed a dam across the river in the 1870s, to impound the water and create a lake. This was used as a trout fishery, from which the lakes at Welbeck Abbey were stocked. Records show that 600 fish were transferred for this purpose in 1873.

Thirty years later, the pool was a popular location for swimming and boating. It continued to be so during the First World War, when it was used by some of the 20,000 soldiers stationed nearby, and after the opening of Clipstone Colliery in 1922, numbers using the facilities were swelled by some of the 2,000 residents who moved into the purpose-built village of New Clipstone. Fishing also became popular, with the Duke awarding the fishing rights to the Clipstone Colliery Angling Club. Spoil tips from the mine gradually surrounded the lake and river, until tipping ceased in 1976. Nottinghamshire County Council then initiated a reclamation scheme, to transform the area into a country park. 25 acres (10 ha) of woodland were planted, and the park opened in 1982. Ten years later, ownership was transferred to the Newark and Sherwood District Council, and improvements were made using grants from Nottinghamshire County Council and the European Regional Development Fund. A part-time ranger was employed to manage the site in 1993, and this became a permanent post in 1999, when funding was received from the owners of Clipstone Colliery, RJB Mining.

The river starts at a series of small lakes, at the western edge of the country park. They occupy the site of a larger artificial lake, marked on the 1885 map as having three sluices into the main channel. T he river used to start before the lake, but this area has been affected by railway construction, and a large settling pond was built as part of the mine workings, where the stream once was. The river continues along the southern edge of Clipstone and the northern edge of the country park, to reach the “V”-shaped Vicar Pond, which is now a coarse fishery.  Below the pond, the course is crossed by several redundant railway bridges, once associated with the colliery, and the National Cycle Network Route 6 runs parallel to it. It runs northwards at this point, to reach King’s Clipstone, and the remains of the hunting lodge, to pass under the B6030 Mansfield Road, and join the River Maun. ( References: Wikipedia)

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My kind of happiness

 

Nights kindle my thoughts, 

 angels send wishes to heart,

while stars are embracing them. 

Kindly the light

just sparks on my fantasy.

I’m speaking with me 

who struggles  behind of ideas,

who wanders through times

looking for the calmness. 

 

It’s peacefully here on the dreams

and  nights are becoming my shelter,

my kind of happiness. 

While angels hold  my hands

and teach me to step to the roof

where brightness

 is the queen   of  the day

and mornings are kissing the grail. 

 

They say all these times have been here,

with Winters and Springs to renew

my thoughts, my illusion, my blue

eternity through the hope.

My kind of happiness through me. 

 

( My kind of Paradise)

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Life’s Waltz

I  woke up that morning and saw
on other peculiar seconds
how dreams were dancing on floor.

They told to the walls to break away
while stars were embracing the game
and showed me the magical way.

In whispers I got kindly  charm
From all the wishes I thought
I lost them while passing the road.

I woke up that morning and felt like
a part of my heart has been hugged
In a dance of the grace with the angels.

Still shy and still looking for light
I stepped to follow my heart on that dance,
embracing the time, embracing the space.

I woke up that morning and now
We still are on dance with the stars
which color the tales like the fairies.

Three steps for a dream to become,
Three steps for the power to be,
I follow my heart on life’s waltz.

I woke up that morning to Me.

 

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The queue

Today we will stay in the queue
while embassy’s staff count on rules,
while nothing just plays to the roof
and brings up the hope to the blue.

Today we will make up the queue.
Just six will be  allowed to breathe
each day, no more space, even seethe.
Just follow the nights till get to.

Today we will spark in the queue.
The timing is beating with luck
while running the race over dark
will embassy’s door welcome through.

Today we may count in the queue
the hours we struggled for rights
while nobody cared for the lights
which faded and got people screw.

Today  we  will seat  over queue
while questions become rude to us,
and love is accused being cuss
because dared and no borders drew.

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