![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/02\/27907130_1970757059910486_1608665309_o-326x235.jpg\")
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M\u0103 numesc R\u00eenda\u0219u Sorina, am 14 ani, m-am n\u0103scut \u00een localitatea Salcea, jude\u0163ul Suceava, unde de altfel locuiesc \u00een continuare.
\nScriu de la v\u00e2rsta de 10 ani. Am avut tentative de a scrie proz\u0103 scurt\u0103, \u00eens\u0103 \u00een prezent sunt foarte atras\u0103 de poezie.
\nPersoana care m-a \u00eendrumat a fost profesoara mea de limba rom\u00e2n\u0103, L\u0103cr\u0103mioara H\u00eencu. M-a sprijinit de c\u00e2nd \u0219tie despre pasiunea mea.
\nO prioritate pentru mine \u00een acest moment ar fi publicarea scrierilor mele \u00eentr-un volum. Exist\u0103 o editur\u0103 cu care am acceptat colaborarea. Momentan m\u0103 preg\u0103tesc pentru lansare.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u00eentr-un ocean de fum<\/strong><\/p>\n e o lini\u0219te necunoscut\u0103 Poem<\/strong><\/p>\n poemul se descompune pe umerii mei \u00een sus <\/p>\n Poetului<\/strong><\/p>\n poetului i se plimb\u0103 cuvinte prin poetul regret\u0103 c\u0103 muza nu e altceva dec\u00e2t \u00eembr\u0103cat\u0103 \u00een versuri r\u0103t\u0103cesc Leag\u0103n\u0103-m\u0103, viscolule<\/strong><\/p>\n c\u00e2nd e sala goal\u0103 pa\u0219ii \u00eenz\u0103pezi\u021bi <\/p>\n La l\u0103sarea serii<\/strong><\/p>\n pe umbrela dorin\u021belor mele <\/p>\n \u00cen pl\u0103m\u00e2nii tat\u0103lui meu<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00een pl\u0103m\u00e2nii tat\u0103lui meu cre\u0219teau holde Noiembrie<\/strong><\/p>\n poate c\u0103 v\u00e2ntul de noiembrie <\/p>\n selec\u021bie realizat\u0103 de NIG – Nu\u021ba Istrate Gangan -Florida<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" M\u0103 numesc R\u00eenda\u0219u Sorina, am 14 ani, m-am n\u0103scut…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[30,28],"tags":[],"coauthors":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-Bh","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2311"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2311"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2311\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2314,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2311\/revisions\/2314"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2311"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2311"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2311"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=2311"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u00een care ziarele vechi se unesc
\ns\u0103-mi \u00eenlocuiasc\u0103 pielea.
\nundeva mai la dreapta de paharul de plastic
\npe care l-am fi golit
\npe r\u00e2nd
\nst\u0103 camera de gard\u0103
\n\u00eentre nevoia de aer
\n\u0219i durerea de a respira.
\nmi-e fric\u0103 \u0219i sunt s\u0103tul\u0103
\nde conceptul \u0103sta par\u0219iv
\nde a fi tu \u00eensu\u021bi
\nc\u0103 voi nu \u0219ti\u021bi ce-nseamn\u0103 s\u0103 nu
\nreprezin\u021bi dec\u00e2t
\nc\u00e2teva kilograme de carne decolorat\u0103
\na\u0219a c\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentind pe rugul \u0219ters
\nulterior
\ncu buretele ademenitor al clasei
\npr\u0103bu\u0219indu-m\u0103
\n\u00een ceea ce a mai r\u0103mas din mine
\n\u00eentr-un ocean de fum.<\/p>\n
\nca lemnul putred
\nc\u0103ci moartea e aproape \u0219i o simt respir\u00e2nd;
\nflorile de tei curg \u00een cana cu ap\u0103
\niar peste cinci minute vine ora c\u00e2nd va trebui
\ns\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eempingi
\nde pe turnul f\u0103r\u0103 ceas
\nc\u0103tre masa de biliard care str\u0103luce\u0219te ca o stea
\nde data asta am de g\u00e2nd s\u0103 \u00eenchid ochii
\nc\u0103ci prin v\u0103zduh trec pelerini
\niar v\u00e2rful spre care tind nu are culoare
\nci doar gust;
\n\u00eentunericul e o l\u0103m\u00e2ie putred\u0103 cu degete
\niar eu sunt aceea\u0219i bolnav\u0103 mintal
\nc\u0103ci am iar\u0103\u0219i
\npraf stelar pe buze \u0219i sub unghii.
\nmedicamentele au r\u0103mas l\u00e2ng\u0103 Adolescentul lui Dostoievski
\n\u0219i m\u0103 vor a\u0219tepta p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd \u00eemi voi mima c\u0103derea
\nde jos<\/p>\n
\n\u00een sus
\n\u00een sus<\/p>\n
\nm\u0103duva spin\u0103rii
\nel le ignor\u0103 c\u0103ci e captiv \u00een
\nforma buzelor muzei
\nnu e nimic altceva dec\u00e2t lini\u0219tea pe care
\no calc\u0103 \u00een picioare strig\u0103tul lui l\u0103untric<\/p>\n
\no pipet\u0103
\ncu care acesta \u00ee\u0219i introduce nuan\u0163\u0103
\nprintre prelungirile neuronale
\nc\u0103ci ce sunt eu, drag\u0103 muzo,
\nsau cum \u00eemi str\u0103lucesc poemele
\n\u00een \u00eentuneric<\/p>\n
\ndin cuib \u00een cuib \u00een c\u0103utarea
\nta
\nc\u0103ci n-ai de g\u00e2nd s\u0103 te ar\u0103\u0163i la bra\u0163ul paharului de vin
\nsau al ce\u0219tii de cafea, drag\u0103 muzo,
\nce nu \u0219tii tu e c\u0103 paharul este gol de ceva timp
\niar cafeaua se g\u0103se\u0219te doar \u00eentru
\npoet<\/p>\n
\n\u00ee\u0219i fac cruce
\nc\u0103ci iarna e despre m\u0103nu\u0219i & sentimente materne
\nleag\u0103n\u0103-m\u0103, viscolule
\nto\u021bi m\u0103 abandoneaz\u0103
\nnici propriile mele cuvinte nu-mi pot \u021bine de cald
\neu sunt \u00eenf\u0103\u0219urat\u0103 \u00een noapte
\nad gloriam volant
\nnoi acum sau niciodat\u0103
\nori chiar m\u00e2ine
\nleag\u0103n\u0103-m\u0103, viscolule
\nc\u0103ci afar\u0103 e un soare dezgust\u0103tor
\nperdeaua e prea sub\u021bire
\nnici sanie nu e nici covor pentru pa\u0219ii \u00eenz\u0103pezi\u021bi
\ndoar o c\u00e2rp\u0103 de lacrimi
\nalea jacta est
\nse topesc ferestrele
\nzarurile sunt pe marginea mesei gata s\u0103 cad\u0103
\nce-o fi o fi
\nleag\u0103n\u0103-m\u0103, viscolule
\ncarpe diem de trei ori \u0219i \u00eenc\u0103 odat\u0103 pentru noroc
\nleag\u0103n\u0103-m\u0103, viscolule
\nc\u0103
\nm\u0103 topesc<\/p>\n
\nliterele se \u00eeneac\u0103 \u00een noroi
\niar unghiile mele se \u00eenfig ad\u00e2nc \u00een carnea ploii;
\nla l\u0103sarea serii,
\np\u0103m\u00e2ntul \u00eencepe s\u0103 se usuce
\nde\u0219i lacurile dau pe dinafar\u0103,
\niar paginile se las\u0103 purtate de v\u00e2nt.
\nacesta este cadrul perfect
\nluna trece prin lumina zilei
\nsticlele de Tazovsky se vars\u0103 pe iarb\u0103 \u0219i se amestec\u0103 cu p\u0103m\u00e2ntul
\nse sinucide soarele
\ncerul se umple de s\u00e2nge
\niar stelele se unesc \u0219i pielea lor uscat\u0103
\ncade pe podeaua mea.<\/p>\n
\n\u0219i copaci \u00eenflori\u021bi \u00een mijlocul lui noiembrie
\nc\u0103ci respira\u0163ia este cea mai simpl\u0103
\nprob\u0103 posibil\u0103
\ndac\u0103 spicele ar coace metafore \u0219i tata
\nar tu\u0219i s\u00e2nge \u0219i singur\u0103tate
\na\u0219 \u0219ti c\u0103 am respirat paisprezece ani degeaba
\ncopacii \u00eenflori\u0163i s-ar culca la p\u0103m\u00e2nt
\niar fumul de \u0163igar\u0103 \u0219i rug\u0103ciunea n-ar avea glas
\ns\u0103-l m\u00e2ng\u00e2ie \u0219i s\u0103-i hr\u0103neasc\u0103 spaima
\nto\u0163i suntem \u00eentr-un vis ritualic
\n\u00een care n-avem picioare \u0219i ne t\u00e2r\u00e2m
\ndar eu m-a\u0219 t\u00e2r\u00ee p\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een pl\u0103m\u00e2nii tat\u0103lui meu
\nunde cresc holde \u0219i copaci \u00eenflori\u021bi \u00een mijlocul lui
\nnoiembrie<\/p>\n
\n\u00eendulcit cu miere \u00eentr-un pahar de unic\u0103 folosin\u0163\u0103
\n\u00ee\u0219i pierde textura
\naroma
\ndensitatea
\n\u0219i poate c\u0103 niciodat\u0103 nu e prea devreme
\ns\u0103 transformi un pahar de noiembrie
\n\u00een cenu\u0219\u0103
\ncine spune c\u0103 universul nu e dec\u00e2t
\nun glob c\u00e2t o coaj\u0103 de portocal\u0103
\nsau cine nu-mi d\u0103 voie s\u0103-l
\ndesprind de pe ax\u0103
\ns\u0103-l bag \u00een buzunar
\n\u0219i s\u0103 mi-l cos pe frunte
\nca semn c\u0103 nu sunt \u00eenvins\u0103
\nci am \u00eenvins<\/p>\n<\/p>\n