Category Archives: Iron Tales

Writer for a new Medium publication

I am honored to have been invited to write for another Medium publication, Literary Impulse.
A community space for LITERARY FICTION, POETRY, PHILOSOPHY, POLITICS AND DIALOGUE with a mission of ‘social change through creative endeavours’.

Over the years, writing has shaped my inner and outer life.
I started writing because of pain…
“To write with the truth of pain in your mouth is gruesome poetry … You’ll have to cut out your heart with every word and show it to the world, then hope it will heal. This is how the light gets in, also the dark. To acknowledge fear, defeat, despair and pretend serenity of a lesson learned while patching up the wounds is … Life.” – Tyrannosaurus Writing

Then I kept on writing because:
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

Presently I write for the following Medium publications: Blue Insights (to which I am also editor), Poetry’s Home, My Selections, Resistance Poetry, Intimately Intricate.

For me, writing is entering other worlds with my written words as keys.
Words open many doors. In written form or not.

Thank you for reading!

Also published on Substack.

Art by Christian Schloe. Source: Pinterest.

Politics is a thorny path

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.” – Vincent van Gogh

Politics* is an abnormal walk on a path by the thorny bushes over precipices and under hail storms, and no flowers grow on it.
Only “flowers of the mold” or a type of flowers that whither within seconds….

But “What would life be if we didn’t dare to take things in hand?”

One must be a dreamer who is not afraid of the sawdust of dreams on his hands.
More than oftentimes I felt the powder of my shattered dreams in my mouth.
I had gone to bed desolated and depressed. The only ray of light is that I have the power to make a (slight) change…
It is very hard for someone who has always been accustomed to seeking beauty.

There is no beauty, only the constant hustle for leaving something behind.

You have no friends in politics. Only friends with agendas. Distrust at its utmost. People become narcissists because they have a mirror which stares empty in their faces. They cannot see themselves properly, so they create an inflated image of themselves to satisfy their hungry reveries…

Now I know what dreams are made of, smoke and mirrors…
In politics at times there is no silver lining, just hard overpowering awardless work. and Words… Empty words. Words devoid of meaning, words devoid of humane reasoning, words devoid of factuality. Words that add the the emptiness around.
But:
“You’re not to be so blind with patriotism that you can’t face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it.”
― Malcolm X

“Let me tell you: the only way to get rid of dragons is to have one of your own.” – Evgeny Shvarts
Or be one… in the Poet’s Garden.

Firstly I am a poet, than a politician. So I must needs grow some green wings and blow some fire. Out of which some flowers will grow.

Vincent van Gogh – The Poet’s Garden III, 1888.

Also published on Substack.

*I am a local councillor in my district in Bucharest.

2 years on Medium

I am honored and humbled to be writer and editor for the Blue Insights, a Medium publication.

Also, I have joined a new publication, Poetry’s Home, where my poems feel very much at home.

Feel free to join both of them.

“Everyone Deserves to be Heard: Guidelines 2021”
https://medium.com/blueinsight/blue-insights-publication-2-years-on-medium-81f36bfc8172

Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

The Serpent Slayer

She quit pretending she needs a hero.
She is her hero
Her own sun and stars.
She is her sunset above the sea
She is her moon in late twilights
She is her words making pools of smiles
For whom she adores.

She is the serpent slayer
and every day is a day of thunder and love.

Thank you for reading!

© Iulia Halatz
Co-author of Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, available on Amazon and Kindle.

Art — Water snakes by Gustav Klimt. Source — Pinterest

Fortitude

Fortitude
Blue Insights Cultural Prompt — May 2021

We are all fighters in trenches
and defiers on battlefields.

We are all thinkers
of simplicities and beauties.

We are all carriers
of hopes and smiles.

We are all dreamers
of strange countries
full of secrets and dreams.

We are all lovers
of abysmal seas
and sunlight glare.

We are all cherishers
of truth and magic.

We are all travelers
On untrodden paths
amidst unruffled nights
and shimmering fireflies.

We are all storytellers
in a defiant era
of storms…

We are all…

For the Blue Insights Cultural Prompt — May 2021, I have chosen “Fortitude”.

Art — Kobayashi Kiyochika, “Fireflies at Ochanomizu”. Source — Facebook

Whatever

Whatever I consider important
The trees don’t care.

Wherever I shed my tears
The flowers don’t know.

Some days have the glitter of butterflies’ wings
Some glint like the fires of Mordor.
Some have the clear shine of truth
Drifting away…
Some the warmth of
a broken heart
Who died
And became Art.

© Iulia Halatz

Art – Wolfgang Harms. Source: Pinterest

Wolfgang Harms

Featured at Medium.com.

Writing

Writing is
quieting the burns
from people’s thoughts and deeds
And dissolving
all knowledge
that this will
ever happen…

© Iulia Halatz

In response to to the Medium/Blue Insights Cultural Prompt for April 2021 “Being Human”

Art by Andrea Kowch.
SOURCE – Facebook

Winter Glass

Up the arduous sky
The wind made powder
of tinted clouds
Whose dreams of winter
endure too long
in the realm.

Cold has gone cool
with wings of white doves
beating
the thin brisk air
to keep the snowdust
at bay.

© Iulia Halatz

Art — Phillip Koch. Source — Pinterest


Also featured at Medium.

Love in line

Love drips
out of my lines.

There is not ink
But sweetness and joy
protruding in small afternoons

befuddled
in glimpses of light
dancing on leaves
and ruby flowers…

When skies glance
at the coolness of moonshine
and butterflies kept in a dream
smile till dawn,

Do not forget…

As long as you feel
the brush of the evening’s wind
coiling like a wild animal

You are as young as
the new roses this year…

Art – Dani Soon – Source – https://dionisopunk.com/

At a Solemn Musick

At a Solemn Musick
by Delmore Schwartz

Let the musicians begin,
Let every instrument awaken and instruct us
In love’s willing river and love’s dear discipline:
We wait, silent, in consent and in the penance
Of patience, awaiting the serene exaltation
Which is the liberation and conclusion of expiation.

Now may the chief musician say:
“Lust and emulation have dwelt amoung us
Like barbarous kings: have conquered us:
Have inhabited our hearts: devoured and ravished
—With the savage greed and avarice of fire—
The substance of pity and compassion.”

Now may all the players play:
“The river of the morning, the morning of the river
Flow out of the splendor of the tenderness of surrender.”

Now may the chief musician say:
“Nothing is more important than summer.”

And now the entire choir shall chant:
“How often the astonished heart,
Beholding the laurel,
Remembers the dead,
And the enchanted absolute,
Snow’s kingdom, sleep’s dominion.”

Then shall the chief musician declare:
“The phoenix is the meaning of the fruit,
Until the dream is knowledge and knowledge is a dream.”

And then, once again, the entire choir shall cry, in passionate unity,
Singing and celebrating love and love’s victory,
Ascending and descending the heights of assent, climbing and chanting triumphantly:
Before the morning was, you were:
Before the snow shone,
And the light sang, and the stone,
Abiding, rode the fullness or endured the emptiness,
You were: you were alone.

Delmore’s words have the clarity of diamonds and their sharpness. They cut deep in hearts.
I remember his words with my heart and not with my mind.
Consequently, the heart becomes the organ of knowledge and truths.

He inspired me to write “All Roads Lead to Rome”

“All words lead to Love
And the poetry in the afterLove

I wish I wrote poems
For the dreamers of barren lands.
They do not go to Rome
They go to places
That cannot be.
………………….
From a Good Place
Where joy is an illumination
To the Place that Cannot Be
They would have worn
The silver claw
of the Moon
above their heads
nightly
daily
musingly
vibrantly…”

Art – John William Waterhouse – Flora and the Zephyrs, 1898

Also featured at Medium.com.