A Cinnamon Afternoon. Adrian Tanase
made out of dark chocolate.
she came as a ballerina,
dressed in white foam
and velvet,
joining the cubic dance,
in a geometrical display.
time was as usual
going slowly backward,
but no one cared,
as everyone was dreaming,
and wishing for a spherical world,
where spheres of all colors
and sizes,
were the main actors,
of this surreal realm.
14.
the forgotten paintings
stored in a museum room,
revealed their stories today
in my sunny living room.
I am writing a novel
where its characters are alive,
and visit me
whenever I feel lonely;
they live in a city,
where most of the people
are painters,
painting their world
in pastel colors,
and living a life
filled with melancholy,
where anyone can see
their history
through
the paintings of the past.
15.
I am again myself,
the one that I was
so many years ago,
when life was so easy
and you were so young;
old pictures,
in soft-hued colors
portraying the joy of the world,
fill the air,
almost silently, up in the sky,
where we raised colored
balloons,
to celebrate
our simple
and renewed life.
I am again
what I used to be
in my forgotten home town,
eating colored cotton candy
and dreaming of carousels.
16.
a price tag
decided it’s time
to live a life of its own.
the few numbers
that formed it,
have started to descend from the book,
slowly,
and looked for another shelf,
to spend their entire day
behind some thick
fiction and romance books.
it all happened at night,
when the moonlight was bright,
and everybody else
was sleeping.
17.
small portions of sugar
in paper containers,
embodying forms of small brown bears,
are waiting in line
to see the latest movie.
in their world,
it is regular to be sweet,
or spicy,
and coffee always blends
with foamy milk
and caramel,
every afternoon.
days go by
and the sun caresses
with his golden rays,
a world where
love,
is always sweet
by default.
18.
my old telephone,
made out of gingerbread
and glittering with sugar powder,
is quietly awaiting,
for a call;
until then,
he will sleep
in a world
where communication
is made available through
recipes,
of the sweetest taste,
baked
in the mellow sun,
which always descends
over the edge of the planet,
in his mighty
and orange-red
appearance.
19.
the vegetables in my garden
have suddenly decided
to go on strike,
today.
they are discontent
with the fact that
apples and oranges,
get the most sunshine,
while they have to always do
with the shade.
from now on they will grow
only as cubes, spheres
and pyramids,
so that they can feel unique
for a while,
in their world of colors
and perfectly symmetrical
curves.
20.
the old books
on the shelf
behind the bar
where items from the ’60s
are stationary,
in silence,
make me awaken
to a dusty world
where old, tainted letters
fall in an irregular fashion
on the tiled yellow and black floor
making a mess
of dark ink
and thoughts
of the past.
21.
crayons, pens
and a yellow eraser
sit quietly
over my charcoal sketch
that shows
how my world is
today.
they wait for me
to finetune the drawing
so that they can guide me
in shaping my broken world
until it becomes