I admit, I was very surprised last night seeing the stats on this blog and the very many times this little poem has been read over the past week or so. What is happening? How come that you are reading this poem and not necessarily others (you know, I posted some other poems in English
Category: English
Valentine’s Day has an equivalent in Romania and it’s called Dragobete’s Day. It’s celebrated today, February 24th. Legend says that Dragobete was the very kind and loving son of a woman called Dochia. This old woman was in charge of the passage of winter towards spring. Some sources state that due to his special kindness,
I couldn’t ignore that second passing, a second meeting on that boulevard I so rarely walked on nowadays. Its asphalt was imprinted with my adolescence – there laid buried a part of me, the one who walked it daily during the four years of my high school classes. But now, so many years later, on this boulevard, meeting him twice in the past 30 minutes, again coming from opposite directions…
It’s not about controlling the thoughts that appear in our mind. It’s about watching them and their effects on our mood. Becoming attached to anything is a choice, a conscious one. But, we so rarely are truly conscious of what is happening in and not to our body. Every word has its own frequency. Its
Worlds of Words 