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Guide me towards

Vethood – this time

I was wrong and lazy

And worked for nothing

But myself – next

Time I’d like to

Read the crooked

Leg of a barking

Bitch – guide me

Less stern, less well,

Tell me what I now know

Too late and too much.

This poem is taken from my forthcoming book The Wooden Tongue Speaks– Romanians: Contradictions & Realities which will be published by Subculture Books.

 

 

 

data viitoare

 

 

împinge-mă spre

medicină – data asta

am greşit, am fost leneş

lucrând pentru nimicul

de mine – data

viitoare a-şi dori să

citesc piceorul strâmb

al unei urlătoare

căţea – ghidează-mă

nu militar, nu perfect,

spune-mi de la început ce-am

învăţat târziu şi prea mult.

Bogdan Tiganov poetry

edge

understand

I have been doing something new, visualising prints that might be described as experiments with colour and form in meaningful relation to poetry. 

The idea of APHORISMS can consist of two kinds.  One explores introspection, that is to say a more personalised worldview, and the other is more extroverted, in the sense of proverbs applying to humanity as a whole.

These can work in book form or blown up to A0 for galleries.  Contact me for further information and prints.close
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The poems shown in this section are work in progress and represent the different strands of my poetry.  I have poems on Nichita Stănescu, poems with a Romanian influence as well as other personal poems.  There are also a couple of examples of the colour-poetry that I have created, exploring a more visual side to poetry. I am looking for related opportunities to bring my work and ideas to a wider audience and I am also available for readings, meetings and conferences. Contact me for more information.

 

laptele de bivol

 

 

El spunea

“nu poţi sa pui paie într-o

maşină şi să iasă

lapte de bivol!  Asta

n-o poţi face!”

 

Incredibil, are dreptate.

Pe de altă parte noi putem

şterge universul.

Nichita

 

 

Arătaţi supraponderat, nepregătit pentru fotografie.

 

Pari dezordonat

pozând pentru o revistă.

 

Arătaţi ca un beţiv

deschis la sentimentalism acum

arăţi mândru că porţi

o coaptă jachetă de piele

lăsată în urmă de tatăl tău

pentru a-i replânge amintirea.

 

Ochii tăi gri acum

sunt bucăţile albăstrui de vodkă

îngheţată.

 

Pierdut îndepărtare înmărmurit de cimentul mortalităţii…

 

Şi cine te face sânge?  Cine

a reinventat matematica?

Ratând Nobelul său

pictându-şi lengeria roşu,

prins în sepia

arătând a bărbat nu a copil

ca un lup, ca un leu,

ca şi cum ai fi nesigur

ce substanţă să ciopleşti

şi când va fi mai bine

că acum obraji tăi, uzi, balonaţi,

au plâns diavolii

dealungul pereţilor negri.

 

Nichitaclose

 

 

You look overweight unprepared for a photograph.

 

You look dishevelled

Posing for a magazine.

 

You look like a drunkard

Alive to sentimentality now

You look proud wearing

A cracked leather jacket

Your father forgot behind

For you to recry memories.

 

Your grey eyes now

They stare like ice blue

Vodka.

 

Staring away to a cement reminder of mortality…

 

And who bled you?  Who

Reinvented mathematics?

Failing his Nobel,

Painting his underwear red,

Shot you in sepia

Looking like a man not a child,

Like a wolf like a lion,

Like you’re unsure the

Dimension to carve up

And when but now

Your cheeks, wet, ballooned,

Wept demons and spread

Wings over black walls.

 

 

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This poem is taken from my forthcoming book The Wooden Tongue Speaks– Romanians: Contradictions & Realities which will be published by Subculture Books.

Buffalo Milk

 

 

He said

“You can’t stuff straw into

A machine and produce

Buffalo milk!  That

You can’t do!”

 

Your grandfather is ridiculously right.

We can, on the other hand,

Wipe out the universe. 

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This poem is taken from my forthcoming book The Wooden Tongue Speaks– Romanians: Contradictions & Realities which will be published by Subculture Books.

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