Monthly Archives: April 2017

Iron Fairies

Iron fairies
Never stoop to worry
At clever inventions
Of thoughts
Coming from up North
to hasten the revival of aloft
shimmer-like words
that shape and betray
the troth
between spiders and gossamers
to yarn
the magic of the moon above
the bounty of the greens in May
the pleasure of the fields to stay
till cobwebs sparkle with dews
and decay…

© Iulia Halatz


Art by Helen Flockhart.

Engleza de joi/ Humdrum

Humdrum = monotonous routine.

“In both writing and sleeping, we learn to be physically still at the same time we are encouraging our minds to unlock from the humdrum rational thinking of our daytime lives.” – Stephen King



Enchanting art by James R Eads.

Most dangerous person on earth

“She could not explain, either, how she herself was one with it, so that through the loveliness and power of her dream-world she was now, in her old frock and botched shoes, very likely the loveliest, mightiest and most dangerous person on earth.”
―from WINTER’S TALES by Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) – born 17 April 1885

















Art by Takato Yamamoto.

Pirate Love

Pirating love
is hunting the fields
in early May dreams
for fireflies and roses alike
to keep them barred
in jars and bottles with light
until your heart

inflames to the touch

and burns

from drinking shades of the evening

and hues of the stars

only to spark

in the dark

as source of delight

in torn summer nights…

Art by Andrea Kowch.

Engleza de joi/ Awareness

Awareness =  knowledge or perception of a situation or fact.

“As a separate entity one always feels alone and, as such, life is a process of easing the pain of this loneliness through substances, objects, activities and relationships. As Awareness, one is also alone but only in the sense that there are no others to be either separate from or one with. This is the aloneness of love.”
~Rupert Spira




















Art by Kinuko Y. Craft.

The Golden Age

We are all stuck in a Golden Age, which can be source of grief, anger, deception and disillusionment but also source of power and inspiration. Always the optimist, I have chosen the latter.

“I am convinced that most people do not grow up … our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.” – Maya Angelou

How can we use our childish un-perverted selves to be more and become better? How can we project and protect our Golden Age in the turmoil and perils of a suffocated Modern Age?

Children perceive things unspoiled. Their vision is as green as the waves and sea before the storm and unhampered by misgivings. They do not hold grudges. They see beauty in everything and for everything they have a story or a witty explanation…

My beautiful step-daughter Brigitta always admired my bags: “This is made of the skin of a python who ate rotten jelly fish for dinner.” The subject of her admiration was a turquoise bag, so obviously the poor snake had digestive problems…”This is from the skin of a giraffe who ate the blue sky after the rain…A black panther who swallowed up a rainbow.” For the general understanding of things, no python, giraffe or panther died for me to have my beautiful bags, it is just painted and customized leatherwork.

As for me, my childish projection was all about magic and to change things as if with a magic wand. The adult knew the hard truth that it couldn’t be done so swiftly, but I kept trying while not pushing the Golden magic too far away. I am not much of a story-teller but people believe me…

Maybe I have acquired a little bit of the gift in the gab, whose foundation was laid in my golden time of stories. From one “fabrication” to another, I have always offered the freedom of always doing something new, and the freshness of ideas.

Life is always beautiful when you travel with new words.


















Art by Anton Lomaev.

My name is Green

These are the Unicorn Days
Carved in gold and diamonds
from the mountains,
Molded in solid water
from the fairies’ well
Sang in choruses
by daffodils leaning on the feathered wings
of night eastern winds,
Claimed by a broken chunk of heart
that knows no sparse amounts
of Love…

Clustered green of untamed grasses
and feral blossoming storms
in the souls of plum flowers
until the fields breathe
the 100 names for Spring
and become
The Unicorn’s envy…


Art by Vincent van Gogh.

Engleza de joi/ Fluster

Fluster = to make somebody nervous and/or confused; to make hot and rosy, as with drinking.

“There is no whole self. It suffices to walk any distance along the inexo­rable rigidity that the mirrors of the past open to us in order to feel like out­siders, naively flustered by our own bygone days.”
Jorge Luis Borges



















Art by Magdalena Korzeniewska.