In the circus of words
Open non stop---
Of beasts ---
The music is suave,
Concave,
The bald,
Soprano
(from Milano)
A surreal atmosphere
Of a ball,
A carnival,
Sensational!
Of masque herds
and words –
And a clown brought
With great efforts from a western thought.
Uncorked words
Pop language birds.
The mammoth words show up,
The sisters from Labrador,
Chorus words devoid of splendor,
And the ones of the deaf-mute
The party language, sophisticated
“of the State”
It is overly applauded.
I get angry and take a whip
And with thirst I once hit.
The hedgehog words
Of the whip.
Rarely are scared
The curses words show up
Senseless politic
Of coachmen from old carriages
From Neolithic.
The natural in language is dead –
With eternal regrets –
The word in gray thread
Of a world of puppets.
Trained to speak
In the bird language of
Parrots.
I get angry, so throw as bribe
A pound of dynamite.
The old trained hooks
Bizarre
Structures in a bell-jar
Detonate the old books.
A writer
Is a tamer
Of all words
Creatures frail and delicate
Like the sunset
Words paired and engaged
In the bed of the page.
I take them out of the cage
The stark-naked words
And I line them up
On little chairs.
First row is reserved
For the most unclothed.
I also bring a good shepherd,
A leopard,
With a cruel tooth
Defends the naked truth.
The brainless phrase
Would like to escape its’ own case
Devoid of truth wave,
Word is a grave.
I put all of them together, trying to be prudent
The words from the Orient
From Scandinavia
And Romania.
The tamer life’s is hard bound--
Dangers all around—
The dense reverse
Of any sense
Could kill you
The terror to flawlessly apply
Each dot on all your “I”.
Words with hair-do
Fixed with glue
Reply in high-volume
To silences in a costume.
The words I chose are banal,
Sentimental---
Yours and mine.
Director! To the shorties I put on stilts
To play pranks, tricks...
Leap mortal
Over the banal!
The blue word removed from his shoes
The pair of laces
On the dome of the page hanged himself
At sunset.
Some whisper hey,
Throw away the clothes you’ve worn during the day
A crossed T in her nightie.
My transparence is a boon
Under a full moon
I, the sentimental
With my merciless whip
I hit the banal
The terrible kid.
I bring a tiger from Bengal,
Phenomenal,
To the world of trivial.
And in the fur of his essence,
The extraordinary --
The words in a robe,
Experts in legislations—
They shirk and de-robe,
Any complications.
A fist of rhymes
All mine,
I’m always taming a cadence
With my whip in rags,
And with patience.
Dinu Grigorescu is a poet and playwright living in Bucharest.
His collections of plays The WILD EAST and THE MERRY HELL, and his collections of poems,
Taming the Words and Aquarium with Sharks are available at the New York Public Library.
Poetry: Taming the Words
