Thursday 16 February 2017

Weird end!.,

My soul ! 
Where is your grave, you can not see it is your end coming ?...
Spring is a heart feeling that hurts and perish like the first happiness !
The hope that swallows my soul in pieces of hell.
It is late and I must believe even when it may never come true !
Don't wait for lOve like a pretty message from nowhere !,
How can I ever desire love when I never felt it ?
There must be a time when my heart will end!.,
Oh, my dreams,,, I don't know if they will come someday true, 
And I don't know if I have any of them!!
Eternity or Love are weird, I never waited or wanted them.
Why, loneliness ends with the heart that still breathe in the battle of wind !?..
One day, the little memories will be the cutest that you have !
The older me, still writes about the path that will end someday !,,,
When you don't have life in you, there is no hope or love!
I don't know why I'm dreaming for, 
Maybe, they will come blue after all ?!,.
If, it is for you doesn't mean it must be for everyone else !
I may be not what people want but, I am just me.
Awake forever I will be in a breath that still waits !
It is late and I must believe even when it may never come true .,
Did I wake up in a loneliness world by myself,
Or is just me all alone ?,,



                                        - A. A. Popovici,

Saturday 11 February 2017

Mormântul din tine .

Fericirile vin în momentele cele mai grele ale vieții ! De multe ori ceea ce scrii nu are nici o logică, ca un fundament a ceea ce simt . Să arunci din tine bucăți de durere, atunci când viață nu mai ai .  Aprinde o vorbă adâncă în vâltoarea timpului ! Nepăsarea stinge paloarea inimii goale în sticle răsuflate . Tușește atunci când îți miroase a moarte sufletul ! Albul visului depravat e speranța ceasului, un ticăit zdruncinat al ființei fără formă . Scrisul are o formă ascunsă a ceea ce simți tu, e doar o sclipire a unei rămășițe din tine ce se evaporă în cuvinte seci și fără o importanță anume ! Duhul se zbate în umbra norilor fierți de o apăsare stranie a unei șoapte ! Sapă în tine mormântul tăceri ca la sfârșit strigătul să-ți fie aspru ca o lance ce spintecă măruntaiele în două . Noaptea se lasă ca un croncăit de ciori, unde pleci și îți lași trupul dezgolit de pacea întunecată ? 



                           - A. A. Popovici,

Friday 10 February 2017

The right prince!


To be a pretty lady is something that you learn all your life! So, what is a pretty face without a warm heart? Or a beautiful body, without the good looking of a soul?  Why, all men look only at a nice women and not, a women delicate with a beautiful mind and great heart? To be a gentleman is something that you choose to be and not just dreaming about it! Why, so many women choose to love men with no brain in they head and not a nice guy? Or is just a habit, not to wait for the right one? May you lost you dreams of a true prince that someday will come in your life? I don't know if is there a true friend that you have or not but, I believe there is just one that you can really trust in Him and that's God! When all my hopes are gone then my trust is in you Lord. Waiting in His promises shows that your faith isn't lost yet.. . ..


                     - A. A. Popovici,

Thursday 2 February 2017

Oh, february ,,,

I was hiding my breath in dreams from my hands of tears?
I was better alone all my life and now,
in my head like an idea I think. . .
I was lonely and your warmth loneliness wasn't here,
are you not here with me?
I was waiting for you but, you're to far away.
Oh, my february where are you?
I was hoping for a word of you in this messy world.
Should I, think of you again?
I was sad in the middle of my heart!
Were you somewhere in my thoughts?
I was with my books all alone in my room but,
without you by my side.
Why not, I am a grave to you? . .. .
I was sick of waiting in the wind, like a sad bird.
How, even flowers smell like my favorite lOve!? ,,,
The warmest place that you know, is in your heart as a home!^


                                                                            - A. A. Popovici,