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Best Poems Written by Ovidiu Bocsa

Below are the all-time best Ovidiu Bocsa poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Poetry

But, who feels the hush of future-in-the past?
A rabbit in the bush, his heart when he’d greet
The lover’s smile, at little distance, at the last,
To see that Nature's charms would be so sweet;
With an orange in his hand, or maybe this nosegay
Of tender recollections that would tiptoe,
But, he had been at their date, a man of clay.
And all he’d thirsty see -those eyes of the roe.
Because that orange afternoon’s desire was in debt,
And she -a lady dear, like dressed in the air all:
And golden shoes! -a princess from a fairy tale: 
”I cannot stay too much” -a clock of his empty soul.
”I have a problem with my shoes” -and he, so sad, 
That quickly, she would add: ”but not so bad.”
The hush of each first love would ever last,
Even with awkward poets belonging to the past.

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Grass of Hope

In color flouting leaves, those leaves of times:
In dream as searching for hope another rhymes,
They met the grass, everywhere,the grass of hope;
But neither fate nor faith were set to moral slope.

The trembling leaves were free to kiss the wind
While the postmodern Columbus swore to find
The freedom`s borders with morning quivers,
With shinning heart like golden sharp scissors.

Like the pretzels with seeds of caraway
Passed our serenity and the emeralds` day,
Coiling itself up  in the times`shell,
Calling recollections hidden in hell.

Noon of amber color, with old scissors
Is ready to cut the black stripes of tigers,
The moon, and the beard of the Prophet;
But monks cannot endure: Not even a poet.

Breaking away through the walls of reality
Going  away from the cold rationality
Entering the realm on the heart`s side
Now was the time to open up your mind.

Was forest covered by guilty silence of mankind?
A rusty axe out of the east perturbed the mind:
If love was true, why liberty was not responsible
And it might mock the saints and hate was possible?

Truths hunt and think upon us. A larger reality: 
Feelings were talking about love and brutality
Spirits, beasts, ghosts in a pale path of normality
Taking gentle face of the family, city, mentality;

For once you should not try to shirk the real facts:
The language, beliefs, culture, feelings and acts.
Life is our own real reward and punishment
Living in the woods, kind of self banishment…

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Light

With closed eyes,because this burning light,
The clouds will go beyond the golden day,
And sun will rest in your hair, a playful ray,             
But blue will stretch a hand to inner sight;                 
               
Some dreams are riding yet, the friendly pony.
Neighbors: the fairy`s breasts in joyous rest; 
With closed eyes, the morning wind will test
And run a bee along no time wet honey;

Old summer buried its face in gentle light and sand;
Some dreams grew like shinning clouds above       
By covering the castles,then a part of our beach;    
No wind to run them , except a tender hand.        
                   
              
The taste of salt and sea are slowly speaking love;     
While changeable waves, to blond laughs reach...

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White

It`s peace in the forest, this night…
All stars gathered in the same breath;
The frost`s wolf chatters his white teeth;                                                   
 Mourning old trees are all covered by light;
The wind increased his obsessive white;
Neighbors: the snowmen and a glass stag 
When night is finally waving its white flag,
Dreams are hanged by luminous white of the height.

Winter buried its face in frozen white lands,       
Long Snow drifts grew like glass clouds above       
And covered the village and half of the church;    
Sun seems a squeezed lemon by white hands.                                                 
Milk dawns, glass blower speaks slowly of love;     
White field sounds with crows near one silver birch.

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Smile

How beautifully, the seagulls fly
Above the waves, up into the sky!
Over the troubled ocean’s horizon.
Over the wonders having a reason.

In front of that playful inner smile
Surely,we can wait a little while 
Mirroring in startling emerald eyes,
When each time offers a kiss-surprise.

How carefully, the tender breeze
Embraces the obstinate young trees! 
Caresses the red poppies`feet,
In the blond field, where we meet.

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Practical Reason

Scholars who took part in the last conference
On logical judgments and system of reference, 
Following the instrumental rationality, consumerism,
Cultural industry under economical anew fetishism,
Rested hanged on the sky of their great expectations.
But, all their sophisticated speech hid big temptations:
Some discovered America in loveliness and loneliness,
In a touching balance between skepticism and happiness;
Peoples from the postmodernism`s cage of our season,
Even monks of cold religion between borders of reason,
Who climbed the heights to bet on their life, men can't
Follow transcendence, by reading duty as love in Kant;
The only song has been burned in those joyful hearts
Of light, when with broken wings, they won grey clouds;
On Anakena, the "leap month" of ancient hot summers,
They counted in large numbers of wonders, of dreamers.
Politicians dreamt the United Europe…under the Asian flags;
And wind of revolutions brought new dreams at their legs;
Kant type of education was singing self`s song as best attempt;
But as valiant love loves duelist from conquest's not exempt, 
The verse has long claws and good determination to stay:
It is desperately hung just at the other side of the grey.
Like addressing to Moai –the statue with long ears
I`m not sure, that from this little distance, he hairs.
The winning contestant of the Tangata-manu egg hunt
Well, first he's in the background, then, he's in the front,
To check if on the world`s egg is written: “Hope”
Or if suddenly, it will roll down from the slope.
If “Eye for eye and tooth for tooth”, the love is knife
That cuts the residual truth and experience of life.
Try to save wild ontology with means at hand:
Is the transcendental way a no man's land?
Bring knowledge and the exchange relation of truth 
To shake the wicked bitter sides in wondering youth,
But timelessness of truth, is always wandering youth,
In metaphysics as 'battle-ground' if words had not been sooth
Read Pure Reason as a 'court of law' for good tomorrow
Else, each verse in my stanza is but “Guilt and Sorrow”.
If you don`t read the pair verse from William Wordsworth
For:”Clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth…”

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Ghazal For You, My Reader

I hold the rainbow and an arrow, for you, my reader;
The thrill of good  tomorrow for you, my reader;

The butterfly of happiness will fly from our book
To find a reason and a certitude, for you, my reader;

You don`t remember this verse I took 
In the hand of light, for you, my reader

It was at very beginning a word, for you, my reader
And wonders made by Lord, for you, my reader

Temptation of good , to see the truth ,this festival 
of hope with favorable look, for you, my reader

And here, YOUR NAME I put, while writing a Ghazal:
A nosegay of perfumes, a tender touch for you, my reader

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My Only Good Poetry

While preparing 1001 soups
For the last night of this year
        I wrote a poem,
My only good poetry, ready to win the 1st Prize;
But I dropped it in…Soup.

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Autumn

Another walking among seasons and holy beads
As our thoughts moves clouds in a grey sky,
And paint the leaves above our heads; 
With a priori color of serenity, your eyes try
To open the white gates of transparent joyous morning;
The air got the scent of hot apple pies, the smile -a meaning 
Of what the fingers are touching and what they are dreaming;
Are those our guardian-angels who silently walk by?

The rain of the morning tea falling from heights;
A new painted bench seemed to be almost dry;
White statues sit on the grass near the brave knights;
Two angels with glass wings have just learnt to fly.

But, leaves` procession under the kiss of the wind;
Buds of faith and hope live in philosophical mind.

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Poem of Joy

When Joey was five or six
Good feelings, she tried to mix
And living colors, a few
Dissolved in the morning dew;


Happy landscape of the world
 Of starry heavens unfurled
And birds to fly like angels
All ought to live in pictures: 

What we dreams on ancient things,
Eternal play of love with wings
And nights on the way and hopes
In round waves and verdant slopes…

Flowers dance at our feet.
Then, a sweet image I meet:
Joey eating her ice cream,
Keeping from cornet a rhyme;

A luminous smile of joy
Like having in hand a toy:
This empty cornet is big.
I let it for my Guinea pig.