Poezii, de Cleopatra Albu, clasa a VII-a A

 THE VICTORIAN FIELD

In dedication to my English teacher, Mirona Campean 

By: Cleopatra Albu

The field of hope, of beauty and Nostalgic thoughts

Is the Victorian field.

Bluebells singing through the wind,

Trees whispering their small thoughts,

Only for the crops to laugh;

Then they halt.

“Who’s that wonder?” a little bird sings in passing.

The girl of heavenly dresses,

With one-too-many flowers in her hair,

Walks by.

The bluebells are jealous of her eyes;

Even the trees admire her splendorous, Raven hair.

As she continues, past them all,

She picks a violet, then more.

A bouquet she hath made, it seems...

For her pupils of tender age, one would say.

“She’s the teacher!” the clouds gasp in shock.

Now they’d remembered, just as she leaves.

“Meunter ijotande...” they say in chorus.

Never forgotten.

* * *

THE HAPPY TOWN

Dedicated to Teacher Alina Ostroveanu

By: Cleopatra Albu

“What is a happy town?” A little boy asked once.

“A happy town?” the narrator chuckled.

“Historical buildings, as sad as wars.

Clean lakes and brooks, as blue as the sky.

Schools, as full as a homecooked meal.

Alas, weather, as changeable as clothes.”

“Is that not a town just like ours?” the chap had said.

“Aye. That is a town. No happiness there, however...

“A happy town, needs one woman.

A woman that adores anything and everything,

A woman that laughs with you as much as you please,

A woman that holds your hand in times of scariness,

A woman that stays sarcastic and strong,

At last, a woman that seems no fear conquered her,

That is the only thing a town ever needs.

That, laddie, is a happy town.” the narrator finishes.

“Aye, that would be me!” the teacher in the corner states,

Heads turn towards the short and crow haired girl,

Folks of the town are shocked at the teacher’s statement.

The teacher that made our town, happy...

* * *

A SERIES OF SHORT POEMS, by Albu Cleopatra

TIME

When your schedule is so tight,

Not even reading fits,

And a problem tops another;

Then you go to unknown lands,

And when suddenly the scene is tense,

The world hits you like a slap.

* * *

GENEROSITY AND GREED

            Inspired by Peasant’s Throne song- Lilith Max

When the throne is sat upon by Greed,

I flinch at the thought

Of him being my ‘great’ king.

Thus I do something bold,

No one dared ever do.

I stalk up behind and let a blade slash his chest,

Then I take the crown and put it on.

Now you shall bow to me.

* * *

DEAR FUTURE,

How can you not know something,

That is worth knowing?

How can you not love something,

That is worth loving?

Alas,

How can you not grieve something,

That is worth grieving?

I guess that will be our future...

* * *

PLAY

            In honour of The National Day of Poems in the UK, that falls on the first

            Thursday of October. 2025’s theme: PLAY.

Children play during break,

During snow or thunderstorms.

Children are the kings and queens

Of something called “playing”.

Playing is a form of art,

And nothing much,

Just art.

* * *

THE PROPHECY OF CORDELIA MONTESSORE

                   From my current book-in-progress.

The girl drowned in shades of death,

With just a streak of goodness,

Shall kill and stab in her path,

Just to prove them wrong,

Yet she will bind the Magiques together,

Just as she will love her Russe.

She shall escape her own shade,

Just as they had before.