Whatever we call beauty

by Andrada Costoiu

Mirrors that slim down,
That show no wrinkles,
Expensive clothes, 
The perfect bodies,
The perfect abs,
The perfect color of your skin…..

“The perfect” floats everywhere
And is a salient feature of our social story.

Since the earliest days,
Scores of media pundits 
Have created illusions
And broke our minds into thinking 
That their illusions are true.

We all clap together,
At whatever they call beauty,
Across time and space….
Meanwhile, liters of hot tears,
Fall from the eyes of those who do not fit.

Whatever we call beauty?

Have we forgotten 
To shine the magic lanterns into who we really are?
Have we forgotten,
To think in hearts and not in images?

 ****

The bogyman is difference,
Sustaining that sinister, yet profound insight 
Into the cleavages of our societies.
Not everyone can feel everyone’s pain,
But has numbness been accepted and embraced?

Whatever we call beauty?

Have we forgotten pain?
Have we forgoten
Our very first heartbreaks,
And how that made our world feel cold and frightening?

Whatever we call beauty?
Whatever you call beauty?

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

My new poetry book “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love” is available on Amazon. You can get it here. Please write a review if you get around it. I would really appreciate it.

Mayflies

by Andrada Costoiu

A mayfly rests on a flower,
Waving its tiny wings,
In the air that smells of summer.
Does she know that she only has 24 hours
To create her past and her future? 

My eyes are wide open,
Watching this life,
In the early morning hours.

Fresh tears created by the battles in my heart,
Are running down my cheeks. 

Between ideals and illusions,
I decorated our love “time unsuitable”
And walked the opposite way.

Eros became speechless,
And stared me in the face.
In the spirit of goodwill, 
I explained to him that modern civilization
Allows lovers to say: “we’re right for each other, but just not right now.”

Eros swayed back but I think he genuinely forgave me,
And turning around,
He whispered over his shoulder
“Ah, the unreality of time!”

I didn’t understand what he meant then
But I do now.

My eyes are wide open,
Watching the mayfly,
In the early morning hours.
How much time does she have,
To create her past and her future? 

Born of a goddess, Eros knew,
That the wheel spins the same for mayflies and for humans.
Love now…..
Live now……
Ah, the reality of time…..!

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

My new poetry book “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love” is available on Amazon. You can get it here. Please write a review if you get around it. I would really appreciate it.

Please master

by Andrada Costoiu

Photo: Image by Helen Marten, for Visual Verse

Visual Verse is an anthology of art, poetry, short fiction and non-fiction. You can find more information about it here Visual Verse . Each month published or unpublished authors are asked to write something, within an hour, inspired by an image. The image for this month was the one above. And here is a poem I wrote about it( it hasn’t been published at their website and I don’t know if it will be chosen to be part of their anthology, but to me, is the experience that counts) :

Please master

by Andrada Costoiu

We come from the place 
Where the air and the water make home,
Where thundering hearts smile at each other
And paint Valentines red.

On our perfect orb,
We roam through space
And lie in the meadows of the Sun and the Moon.

It looks a lot like freedom
But here beasts roam free,
Their waggling tongues are licking our place of its warmth and its beauty,
While their tails blow boundless seas of wild dust,
Entombing our sky. 
Our lungs are filled with smog,
We lost sight of our reflection,
And dust is catching in our dry, voiceless throats. 

Weakened we come to you, weakened but hopeful.
Please master, tame them with your hands
And quench their thirst.
Please master, make our world the way it used to be,
And let forests grow,
The oceans thrive,
And season after season,
We would feel again, 
The nature’s beauty and its perfect harmony.  

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

My new poetry book “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love” is available on Amazon. You can get it here. Please write a review if you get around it. I would really appreciate it.


Remember

by Andrada Costoiu

Crying, 
The tears of your eyes fall in the ashes,
Scattered on the streets.
Your thoughts don’t stand tall, 
But crumble with the buildings,
Down on the ground beneath your feet.

You join the other countless voices screaming, 
And feel inside you fear carving the walls of your skin.

A man looks from a window and then he looks at you,
He put his jacket on to keep him warm in his trip to eternity.
You want to fly every time you take a step 
And grab the arms that rise from dust and broken glasses,
But you cannot, you cannot help them.

It smells like it’s never going to stop raining with pain,
It smells of heartbreak and no tomorrows,
It smells of burning candles at the funeral of hope.

Not a word said,
You’re crying for the lost,
You’re crying because you don’t know what eternity looks like.

All the wrongs of the past time bombard your eyes,
What has life become?
Is it too late to change it?

You bang your skinned knuckles 
At the door of the future
And vow to go on a scavenger hunt
All over the world,
To find prayers, good deeds,
And promises that stories like this will never repeat.

Note: Today is 9/11 and I remember it. I remember the faces, the terror, and everything that came with it. I will never forget. But that it is not the only thing that I will never forget. Although I only seen them in movies, like Schindler’s list, or read them in books like “Hiding in the Spotlight”,  I will never forget the stories of the Jewish people whose spirts were lost during the Holocaust. The same, I will never forget the faces and stories of Syrian kids, and the ones of their parents, that were war refugees in Jordan. I took some interviews, and these were firsthand, heartbreaking stories. I kneel in front of their pain and wish that we will never repeat the mistakes of the past.
I am sure that each of us have our experiences. I am sure that each of us have memories that have shattered our hearts. But I think we should do our best to bring light into this world, the way we can. I think each of us contribute, in small or big ways, to spread love and not hatred, to spread acceptance and kindness. 

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

My new poetry book “Love poems: insights into the complicated mystery of love” is available on Amazon. You can get it here. Please write a review if you get around it. I would really appreciate it.

My poem “The Artist Prison” has been published by the Literary Yard

Here is the link for the publication: Literary Yard.

The artist’s prison
by Andrada Costoiu

Your fingers are dancing molding the clay,
In shapes that your heart has requested,
Trembling,
Touching with the force and desire of your inmate thoughts,
That promise to become something.

You clothing, covered in the black ash of your past creations,
Is overheating your arms and legs,
Your red and blistered palms are as red and as raw as you feel inside.
You stare for a moment,
The mold that you shaped is delivering confidential information about your soul.

Afraid to share it, you put it in a dark corner of a room,
You grin, willing it safe of peering eyes.

Outside is dark and the gravel sounds under your feet,
You walk away, vulnerable,
Passing and nodding at people,
Hiding your red and blistered palms in your pockets.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Life study

by Andrada Costoiu

My steps leave marks on the dirt I walk upon,
Next to so many others,
Big and small marks,
I wonder whose stories were or are these….

Drums’ cadence, silent and loud,
Dictate the rhythm of the live orchestra.
Planning, grinding, gripping,
Life in an orderly fashion,
As the clock keeps ticking: time for this, time for that.

I dared to let myself stumble,
That’s when I’ve fallen  “out of step” and crashed into the arms of unfelt emotions.

I feared that without the cadence of drums I had no idea of who I am,
But I couldn’t let their sound pierce my soul anymore,
And dance me into the oblivion. 
It became a question if I would stay fearful or not.
Tear after tear, I cried my way out to freedom.


Unraveled, I threw myself into the sea of unplanned knowledge,
I might be arranging the chairs on the deck of the Titanic,
Or I might be sailing on a little ship under a beautiful blue sky.

Everyday I walk my own path…..
My steps leave marks next to others,
Big and small,
I smile and wonder whose stories were or are these….

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Circumstances

by Andrada Costoiu

Peasant,
Walking next to a king,
One has nothing,
The other has everything. 
Birthright.
Was it really fair,
When it gave one the right to rule
While the other one has to be its mule?

Syrian,
Walking next to an American,
One has been displaced and cannot go back,
The other has a home, a car, and no lack.
Birthplace,
Was it really fair,
When it gave one the opportunity for a good life and success,
While the other had to fight, lost everything and has been oppressed? 

Actaeon, a Greek hero,
He was a hunter who accidentally saw Artemis, the goddess of wild animals and childbirth, bathing,
For him that sighting was unfortunate,
Artemis got upset and her attack on him was scathing.
She turned him from a hunter into a stag,
His own dogs chased him, then ate him,
And all this happened quickly, without a tiny lag.

Time and place,
When you’re assigned the seat in the great story of life,
Sometimes you are lucky and sometimes you have to brace.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Good for you

by Andrada Costoiu

Good for you,
All of you that have lived beautiful love stories,
Have broken your heart and then got up,
Wiped your tears and carried on, 
Towards another day, and another story.

Good for you,
All that face sickness,
As we all think that disease is never part of us,
Until it is,
Good for you for conquering the fears that are whirling in your head,
Good for you for choosing and fighting to be a survivor,
You are our teachers,
Because you have an extraordinary capacity to rebound and survive,
And you can show us how to stand up when life puts us down.

Good for you,
All of you that have dreams, and have broken your wings chasing them,
Only to get up,
And fly higher than before.

Good for you,
All of you that have lost yourselves, 
Had fallen, cried, and then got up,
And walked with your head up high, not hiding your permanent scars.
None of us has an innate toughness, but you have built your own,
Re-framed your life after a deep upset, 
And now you teach us resilience and strength. 

Good for you, all young and old,
Damaged and hopeful,
That have been through the hoops of life.

There is no grand script for life,
And each has his own,
We are all worthy and free,
To spin our versions of our stories.

Good for us,
Humanity has lasting worth and meaning,
Make your story count,
And don’t forget that after a tear, and a hurt,
You will always be stronger.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Born blind

by Andrada Costoiu

Ink has dried on papers,
Where pen has pressed hearts, of black and white,
Of yellow and all other human colors….
So many books have been written,
To highlight the difference of no difference……

“Billy, can we sit here,” asked a boy his play buddy.
“Yes Andrew, lets’!”
“Do you hear the birds singing?” he asked his friend,
“Yes, they sound nice,” answered Andrew.
“They have pretty feathers too, white and brown, just like the two of you,”
Said a man sitting on the bench next to theirs,
The boys smiled, and sword fought with their white canes.

The man watched their joyful child play for a while,
“I hope that other eyes would never break your play,”
The old man said to himself.
He left, sad, dragging with him the burden of seeing colors,
And all the meanings attached to them.

You cannot feel something,
Until someone teaches you to feel something.
And sometimes, you cannot think something,
Until someone teaches you to think something.

Colors….

Red symbolizes excitement, passion and love in Western cultures
It also symbolized communism and revolution in countries like Russia.
Yellow, In Germany it represents envy,
In Egypt it means happiness and fortune.
Purple means wealth around the world. 
But in Brazil and Thailand purple is the color of mourning.


Billy and Andrew have not learned about black and white,
Born blind, 
They would have others to teach them……
And the others must never break their play.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

She was a ballerina

by Andrada Costoiu

Nobody walked her path,
She carried her sorrows with grace.
Everybody starts somewhere different,
But she had many judges, all of them wrong.

She put away rejection slips,
Into a drawer full of pain.
“ I’m not like the others,” she cried,
Hoping that people will understand that passions
Choose whom to embody and then never leave.

Her eyes danced,
In this small moment in time she was becoming.
“Your hair looks lovely,
It must have taken many years to grow it so long,” said one
“It did,” she thought,
But it took much longer to be here
And step into the stage lights.

With strong legs and a heart full of love,
She took her limitations and her vulnerabilities
And bought them to the limelight.
The music started,
And she did what she was born to do: she danced,
She was a one-arm ballerina,
Imperfect in a perfect world,
And perfect in an imperfect world.

Note: this is a poem about the struggle of being accepted for what we are. Our society is not very kind as people are being judged against existent stereotypes that are hard to break. We forget that behind any skin color, any missing limbs….there is a soul with hopes and dreams. That soul did not chose how it would be embodied. Whatever you might be, fight for your dreams. Whatever they might tell you, keep going forward. You are worth it, everybody is.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2020- . Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrada Costoiu and a-passion4life.com, 2019 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content