Literary CV: Dorina Neculce – Romanian writer, from the city Botosani-live in city Iasi neculcedorina-poezieonline.blogspot.ro/2014/05/poems-by-dorina-neculce.html Member of the ‘Junimea 90’ Cultural Society- Iasi, Member of the Literary Circle ‘Junimea 90’ – Iasi, Former coordinator of the Literary Circle Friendship Universe – Iasi, Literary debut at Tatarasi Atheneum from Iasi, 2009 – collective volume – with the group ‘Wandered angels’, All Publishing, Iasi, 2009; Publication: poetry: The world from the mirror, Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2010; My gothic smile, Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2011: Solitaire flight, Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2012; Old trails, Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2012; At the end of silence , Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2012; Contraria (lyrical dialogues with Rameel), Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2012; Vade mecum (6 contemporary poets), Winter (6 authors), Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2012; Insignia (volume published by the literary site Casa Gandului, 2010); Lyrical meridians, 100 contemporary poets, Armonii culturale Publishing, 2012; prose: If I could get through time, Pim Publishing – Iasi, 2010: poetry: Eyelids flounder – Pim Publishing, Iasi, 2012. Literary awards: 3rd prize – awarded by the Literary Magazine ‘Noi, Nu’, from Cluj – December 2011. Poetry Contest 2nd prize – haiku- February 2010, organized by the Association Universul Prieteniei – Iasi. It is on the anvil and it is going to be published in 2013, a new Trilogy of gothic poetry, ‘Gothic solitude’. cassandra’s cry translate by prof. Oana Nechita 1.as a dishevelled cassandra I spin the last distaff sitting at the shadow of the cross gluing up sweetened poems on the face of the bronze shadows. 2.knower of silent colours you will come dressed in the shirt of the thoughts of iron 3.as a dishevelled cassandra from fogs and smoke I will pour the cold in bones as if the glances of the bowmen will pour atriped from the white marble breaking down the springs in eyes until the last scream. 4.is as if I still could live deep in an unseen window baroque sound sat step over step time over another time free sclave sucking up the clay of it’s own grave. let’s go mashenka I call her don’t hide yourself this bowed woman won’t stop she’ll cry anyway and she’ll still cry you have to get out the buildings without windows can melt you down ........................................................... mashenka is the metal girl of a dwarf family her thoughts – knotted stitch- feed all the roses (this will help us maybe only this will help us) when everything is lost when the trees strip us of the shadows I hear the beating of your heart as some rebel chord and I can see my mother herself locked in a rose she is holding in her chin with the hand she breaks out she snuggles at the chest of mashenka the metal girl is whining ................................................................. ohhhhhh it’s so simple to turn off light I say and I breath all the gore I think I will turn grey ’ He and She enchained holding hands will throw at any moment ’from the irion border of Mirabeau birdge’ I am amazed shattered between waves I am listening to this news through speakers of an underwater station He because he didn’t fiind his lost feelings and Her because she didn’t learn on time how to embroider in the sky’s heart the meaning of the true word – every Thursday I remember you – he and she folded in curtains of glass - and I fall asleep but every second now the inevitable (it doesn’t respect) will take place and (kneeled covered blunted crucified in shadows) I am waiting the end as a healing as a dispensation to the taste of blood ………leave it, I tell to myself. If I think better I think that I will turn grey…….my hot eye ruby heart the smile of my deeds priceless quenchless unasked in your body crowns I entwine (and I was blossoming in your thought/ as a wounded magnolia in arms,/cursing, I can’t move,/ I lie on the soul,/ in cheek,/mixing myself with blood, / the silent of the nights is crying over me!!!...) Part II: ,,Gothic solitude,, when the blue strings are getting off fluttering over sunsets I get loose my dirty hands I unsew my livid eyelids and I float drifting over the water of Jordan with bats in claws I feel only the supressed memory when I twist them under the shape of a stitch in my thought there under the stronghold marooned there where are gathering all the clouds of ash simplicity I’ve finished with profoundity I tell myself from now on I will be the common man I will learn even the dedication until beyond the word a ceaseless bending between a bourn and the other- swollen by the same flounder of eyelids commiting myself heavenly in a dance of white butterflies I shall burn in the light of the wings clairvoyant
Posted on: Sat, 24 May 2014 19:48:45 +0000
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