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Somehow ...

Great art comes to deep pain of my soul 
and it has a voice inside me like a kiss of rain !
If I don't write I can not breath .
I have always like spooky things because 
I understand the pain hidden so deep inside !
In my hands I hold my own spring ,
like the dreams that I never can dream it .
Sometimes, magic is the deepest darkness ! 



How can I forget my words ?
Flowers are my feelings .
Spring is a walk in pain !
Sometimes, life is just a toy .
My hands are without hope .
Alone is my music .
Only the time seems to be old to me ,
That's to late now !.
Somewhere, in my own poetry ! 

Music is felt without seeing it .
I cry in blood of my own joy . 



Somehow, I felt no love in the road that I walked  . . . . . . 



- A. A. Popovici,

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Florile pastelate .,

Florile inimii sunt pastelate ~primăvară asteptată .  Îmi plâng inima sfâșiată din mine ! Binecuvântările nu se spun doar se văd ! Poate că am crezut ce ai vorbit Tu dar. . .  Nu avea nici o formă plăcută ci dar se ascundea īn agonia vieții . Dacă viața ar fi o melodie dar, nu este ? Trebuie să trăiesc ca și cum nu ași exista .  Mi-ași fi dorit ce se dorește deși e târziu a mai aștepta un răspuns ! Pentru mine nu ai răspuns, totuși! Mi-am vazut visele spulberate în marea albastră- adâncă . Atunci când, bucuria devine reală viața este în culori vii pastelate și simți că respiri dragostea dulce a inimii !  Ce ași putea să îmi mai doresc și nu mi-am dorit în această viață ?!



- A. A. Popovici,

Green writer.

In time with my books.  In time with my thoughts. In time with my desires. In time with my sadness. In time with my writing. In time with my dreaming. In time with my plants. In time with my darkness.


In time with my lost hopes. In time with my sad piano -melody. In time with my waiting...  In time with my travel, feelings.


In time is my window door!


In time with my shadows. In time with my lover. In time with my thinking. In time with my happiness. In time with my words. In time with my loneliness.


All that I desire, All my dreams, All my hopes, Are in time for me!


I’m a green writer! In time with my own poetry! In time with my library of books.



                           - A. A. Popovici,

Morning year !

Scent of a man.
Art of a room.
It was lonely.
Happy new year is home.
Last feelings inside!
Be your own kind of fashion.
Friday cat friend.
Cappuccino outfit color.
Newspaper look.
Mood of a feeling.
Art without o feeling.
Touch of a word.
An hello of a good morning year!
Warm season is just you.
Wishing of you to be here.
Morning is a loneliness day.
Two hearts are alone.


- A. A. Popovici,