{"id":2442,"date":"2018-03-25T22:55:13","date_gmt":"2018-03-25T22:55:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/?p=2442"},"modified":"2018-04-01T14:43:05","modified_gmt":"2018-04-01T14:43:05","slug":"marius-ganea-poezii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/marius-ganea-poezii\/","title":{"rendered":"Marius Ganea\/Poezii"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"size-art-big-1col wp-image-2444 alignnone\" src=\"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/29496745_866858750169069_4753740350047868076_n-326x235.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"326\" height=\"235\" \/><\/p>\n<p><strong>Poetul intr\u0103-n cetate<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>c\u0103nd poetul intr\u0103-n cetate<br \/>\ntrupul lui schilodit se pierde-n mul\u021bime<br \/>\nnu arat\u0103 altfel, nu miroase<br \/>\na noapte, nu vinde nimic,<br \/>\nnu aduce cu el singur\u0103tatea p\u0103durii<\/p>\n<p>c\u00e2nd poetul vorbe\u0219te, glasul e trist<br \/>\ncuvintele rostite au culoarea t\u0103i\u0219ului<br \/>\nascu\u021bimea cu\u021bitului<br \/>\ntrec prin carne \u0219i oase, prin piatra<br \/>\ndin ziduri, prin por\u021bile ferecate<\/p>\n<p>macelarul \u00eentreab\u0103: cine e omul acesta<br \/>\nalunga\u021bi-l, nu pot s\u0103 tai g\u00e2tul mielului<br \/>\nnu pot s\u0103 rup g\u00e2tul p\u0103s\u0103rilor<br \/>\nvorbele lui m\u0103 \u00eencurc\u0103<br \/>\nnu v\u0103 pute\u021bi hr\u0103ni cu vorbe<br \/>\nave\u021bi nevoie de mine<\/p>\n<p>soldatul \u00eentreab\u0103: cine e omul acesta<br \/>\nde cine m\u0103 ap\u0103r, ce spaim\u0103<br \/>\ndispare, ce c\u00e2ntec m\u0103 cheam\u0103 acas\u0103?<\/p>\n<p>poetul vorbe\u0219te, cuvintele lui<br \/>\n\u00eel \u00eenv\u0103luie, nimeni nu-i vede trupul<br \/>\nb\u0103tr\u00e2n, oasele ie\u0219ite prin piele,<br \/>\np\u0103rul murdar, hainele rupte.<\/p>\n<p>Cetatea ascult\u0103.<\/p>\n<p><strong> Adev\u0103r<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Crezi c\u0103 le stii pe toate,<br \/>\nspune b\u0103ie\u021belul cu pantaloni scur\u021bi,<br \/>\nb\u0103iatul trist, vis\u0103tor,<br \/>\ncopilul din vecini, pe care to\u021bi \u00eel \u0219tiu<br \/>\ndar nimeni nu \u00eel vede cu adev\u0103rat<\/p>\n<p>am s\u0103 \u00ee\u021bi spun un secret, \u0219opte\u0219\u021be,<br \/>\ncu ochii lui hipnotici,<br \/>\npentru care adev\u0103rul nu are<br \/>\nnici nuan\u021be, nici interpret\u0103ri.<\/p>\n<p>stelele au gust de sare, spune,<br \/>\nde c\u00e2te ori le privesc<br \/>\n\u00eemi aduc aminte de mama.<\/p>\n<p>S\u0103 nu spui la nimeni<br \/>\ndar eu \u0219tiu:<br \/>\nstelele au gust de sare<br \/>\nstelele au gustul m\u0103rii<br \/>\ndin vara aceea.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Omul umbrel\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>\u00cel \u00eent\u00e2lne\u0219ti seara pe aleile pustii,<br \/>\ncu hainele demodate \u0219i buzunarele<br \/>\npline de fluturi<br \/>\npe unde trece el ploaia se opre\u0219te<br \/>\nl\u0103mpile se aprind \u00een fa\u021ba<br \/>\n\u0219i se sting \u00een spatele lui<br \/>\nomul umbrel\u0103.<br \/>\n==============================<br \/>\nCel care \u00ee\u0219i spune povestea<br \/>\noricui este dispus s\u0103 \u00eel asculte<br \/>\ncel de care oamenii se feresc<br \/>\ncel ce prive\u0219te \u00een gol, peste umerii t\u0103i<br \/>\nc\u0103tre o lume f\u0103r\u0103 cusur. Acea lume<br \/>\ncea mai frumoas\u0103 dintre lumi.<br \/>\n===============================<br \/>\nA v\u0103zut TIMPUL spune el,realitatea timpului<br \/>\ntimpul e un magician, spune,o iluzie<br \/>\no pelerin\u0103 neagr\u0103 cu miros de sudoare st\u0103tut\u0103<br \/>\nde flori moarte uitate la soare.<br \/>\nPelerina se rote\u0219te, rote\u0219te, rote\u0219te<br \/>\nca o umbrel\u0103 japonez\u0103, a ultimei ghei\u0219e<br \/>\n\u00een onoarea ultimului samurai<br \/>\npelerina se rote\u0219te, rote\u0219te, rote\u0219te<br \/>\n\u0219i cei dragi dispar, copil\u0103ria dispare, tinere\u021bea<br \/>\ndispare, z\u00e2mbetele, dragostea, fericirea,<br \/>\ndispar toate pe r\u00e2nd,sub pelerin\u0103<br \/>\n\u00een locul lor, magicianul scoate<br \/>\nun iepura\u0219 speriat.<br \/>\n=================================<br \/>\nOmul umbrel\u0103 \u00ee\u0219i \u0219terge lacrimile,<br \/>\ncu m\u00e2na murdar\u0103.<br \/>\nVoi nu \u00een\u021belege\u021bi, spune el,<br \/>\nvoi nu \u00een\u021belege\u021bi<br \/>\ntragedia trecerii<br \/>\niepura\u0219ul e viu, e pufos, timpul e rece..<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dac\u0103<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>dac\u0103 a\u0219 fi \u0219tiut s\u0103 scriu poezie<br \/>\nalbul z\u0103pezii ar fi fost albastru<br \/>\na\u0219 fi scris despre omor\u00e2tori despre galbenul soare<br \/>\ndespre fructele putrede despre noi animale b\u0103tr\u00e2ne<br \/>\nm-a\u0219 fi jucat de-a Dumnezeu<br \/>\ndac\u0103 a\u0219 fi \u0219tiut cum s\u0103 o fac<\/p>\n<p>dac\u0103 a\u0219 fi \u0219tiut s\u0103 scriu poezie<br \/>\na\u0219 fi scris despre sfin\u021bii din ad\u00e2ncul p\u0103durilor<br \/>\ncare se roag\u0103 cu ochii \u00eenchi\u0219i c\u0103tre un cer<br \/>\ncare nu mai exist\u0103 care beau din izvoare<br \/>\nf\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 tulbure apele<br \/>\ncare tr\u0103iesc sute de ani pentru c\u0103 cineva<br \/>\ntrebuie s\u0103 spele cu m\u00e2ini b\u0103t\u0103torite<br \/>\npicioarele Domnului<\/p>\n<p>dac\u0103 a\u0219 fi \u0219tiut s\u0103 scriu poezie<br \/>\noamenii mi-ar fi iertat nebunia amocul<br \/>\na\u0219 fi putut s\u0103 scriu despre lacrimi triste\u021be<br \/>\n\u0219i r\u0103ul care \u00eencet \u00eencet a pus st\u0103p\u00e2nire pe lume<br \/>\ndespre copiii goi abandona\u021bi pe treptele cerului<br \/>\nprea mul\u021bii mor\u021bi buni care \u021bin rana deschis\u0103<\/p>\n<p>a\u0219 fi putut s\u0103 scriu despre orice<br \/>\noricum nimeni nu a citit vreodat\u0103 o poezie p\u00e2n\u0103 la cap\u0103t<br \/>\nmult\u0103 lume scrie e-adev\u0103rat dar cititul e infinit mai greu<br \/>\n\u00eenc\u0103 de la \u0219coal\u0103 se-nva\u021b\u0103 c\u0103 POEZIE<br \/>\ne doar un alt nume pentru nisipurile mi\u0219c\u0103toare<br \/>\ndoat o alt\u0103 fa\u021b\u0103 pentru Fata Morgana<br \/>\nM\u0103re\u021bie<\/p>\n<p>doar o felin\u0103 mare ce alunec\u0103<br \/>\nt\u0103cut\u0103 prin noapte<br \/>\nun rege b\u0103tr\u00e2n care simte r\u0103ceala p\u0103m\u00e2ntului<br \/>\ntrecute zilele v\u00e2n\u0103torii<br \/>\ntrecut\u0103 splendoarea<br \/>\n\u0219oaptele p\u0103durii nu mai au \u00een\u021beles<br \/>\ngazelele pasc sub privirea ochilor obosi\u021bi<br \/>\nun fior \u00eel str\u0103bate, prive\u0219te spre cer sfid\u0103tor<br \/>\nr\u0103getul \u00eenghea\u021b\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 departe orice urm\u0103 de via\u021b\u0103<br \/>\nsavana \u0219tie ce se va \u00eent\u00e2mpla \u0219i se-nchin\u0103 umil\u0103<br \/>\nlene\u0219 se-ndreapt\u0103 spre st\u00e2nca \u00eencins\u0103 de soare<br \/>\nm\u0103re\u021b \u0219i m\u00e2ndru se-ntinde pe piatra ce-i apar\u021bine<br \/>\nprivindu-se pe sine \u00een auriul soare ce-apune.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Formele apei<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>c\u00e2t de tineri eram<br \/>\ndansai descul\u021b\u0103 &#8211; r\u00e2z\u00e2nd &#8211; pe cioburi de scoic\u0103<br \/>\n\u0219i \u00eemi povesteai despre lumi imposibile<br \/>\ndespre copiii no\u0219tri &#8211; \u00eei vedeai \u00een unduirile de argint<br \/>\nale m\u0103rii<br \/>\ndespre putere \u0219i-ncredere<br \/>\nm\u00e2na ta mic\u0103 m\u0103 str\u00e2ngea cu speran\u021b\u0103<br \/>\nviitorul ne \u00eemb\u0103ta ca un vin licoros<br \/>\ndac\u0103 priveam \u00eendelung \u00een formele apei<br \/>\nputeam s\u0103 v\u0103d fa\u021ba Tat\u0103lui meu<br \/>\nz\u00e2mbitor \u0219i puternic<br \/>\ntimpurile acelea ne mai \u021bin \u00een picioare<br \/>\nc\u00e2nd oaspe\u021bii se adun\u0103 nu g\u0103sesc dec\u00e2t cea\u021b\u0103 \u0219i fum<br \/>\ntata moare&#8230;\u0219i nu vrea s\u0103 moar\u0103<br \/>\ndurerea \u00eel apas\u0103 pe umeri \u0219i el ar vrea s\u0103 alerge<br \/>\npeste p\u0103m\u00e2nturile uscate \u0219i goale<br \/>\nale tinere\u021bii uitate<br \/>\nnici nu \u0219tiu ce m\u0103 doare mai tare<br \/>\nirepetabila trecere sau privirile lui disperate<br \/>\nvocea sub\u021bire pl\u00e2ng\u00e2nd \u0219i ochii b\u0103tr\u00e2ni<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"size-art-big-1col wp-image-2444 alignnone\" src=\"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/29496745_866858750169069_4753740350047868076_n-326x235.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"326\" height=\"235\" \/><\/p>\n<p><strong>Poetul intr\u0103-n cetate<\/strong><br \/>\n&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1,30,28],"tags":[],"coauthors":[75],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4rsGx-Do","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2442"}],"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=2442"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2442\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2461,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2442\/revisions\/2461"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2442"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2442"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2442"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nymagazin.com\/en_US\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=2442"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}