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Poem by Jade Blackmore – Poetry Reading, East Village, 1990 September 18, 2019

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1990s, Jade Blackmore, New York, poems, romantic poems, romantic poetry, Veteran Poets.
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He dreamed of long legs,
intertwined with his.
A Cherokee priestess
in fringed suede,
fresh from the hide,
so fresh it still dripped blood.
And he wished for big brown eyes.
He dreamed of a madwoman
He dreamed too hard.

She read a poem
about the desert,
about skin and chains
and hookah pipes.
He stood in the back of the room
in cowboys boots.
He wore a stone amulet
on a chain around his neck.
She wore skull and hatchet earrings.
He wouldn’t have looked twice
if he’d seen her on the street.
He sees her clearly in a smoke-filled room
with the crash of beer bottles.
She smiled like an ingenue
but wrote like a white witch.
He fancied himself a writer
but her words made her feel like a dilettante.
His eyes made her feel
like a long-limbed Vogue model,
but his aura,
all black from hair to boots,
like a misfit with a ponytail
in the third grade,
and he was the cutest boy on the playground.

He touched her wrist,
as she put her poems into her backpack.
“You’re a witch,” he said.
His amulet brushed across her wrist vein.
“And you’re a shaman”, she said.

He bought her peppermint tea,
and she taught him about madwomen of the 18th century,
and he taught her about imitating Kerouac in the south of England.
They walked to her apartment above the biker bar
to consummate a beautiful lie.

A scattered night
transforming  mortals into magic, and
then back again.






Poems by Anca Mihaela Bruma – Of So Much Yearning!…, My Life and When I found the Love footprints… May 19, 2016

Posted by vscorpiozine in love poems, poems, poetry, romantic poems, romantic poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.
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Of So Much Yearning!…

Love!… of so much yearning
I do not know how to count my steps anymore…
of so much longing I grew a forest
on the verge of the World…
of so much craving even the soul
has taken the color of Time!…

Life!.. keeps biting me voluptuously,
wakefulness has become my domain,
because of so many summers
with grizzled blizzards…

Love!… of so much yearning
even our distances have become slippery…
of so much longing I have learned
the rhythm of the occurrences,
to scratch the trees’ crusts
so my soul may remain untarnished,
no fears to enclose me
and the sight of our route not to be adrift…

Of so much longing, my Love
even nights lost their prominence,
I wriggle among silenced innuendos
but my Love bloomed in a vertex
and an asymmetrical parabola surges its sensations…

Love!… of so much yearning
I have gathered belated dawns,
meeting you only at the junction
between deja vu and wingbeats…

I master each day how to love my tears
and plant unspoken seeds so,
your Sky will make them grow…

On the verge of my World
the Oblivion has just started!…

Just a stone remains bewildered!
Even the night smells of amnesia…

In this bittersweet longing
my heart took your heart’s frame!…

My Life…

My Life,
paints every moment,
with a different stroke…

Each day I dress
with Myself, so nights,
can find me no more…

I grabbed the edge
of the World, so
I will not be beyond
your touch…

I taught my tree
how to bloom, so
my words will not fall
from its branches…

I listened to your Silence,
lighting my inner context
And I knew… no more
fictional characters
in a liquefied Reality…

just a rhythmical harmony
within heart symmetry…

I plunged Myself
in the aesthetics of Mathematics,
Now… I can count
different sizes of Life…
backwards and onwards…
with no remaining dots…

When I found the Love footprints…

When I found the Love footprints
I recessed… from Life…
Ceased my earthy sojourn…

I stumbled no more
amidst so many lexicons of forgetting…
Lost the cryptic utterances
of what could, might or should be,
the Truth… or False!…

I am not seeking the finding
as I do not find the seeking…
You see yourself outside you,
I see you inside myself…

When Love footprints were found
I stumbled no more between dots,
I just breathed
one thousand years in one day,
and quarters of heavens were built
inside my cathartic calibrations…

The eyes of a thinker
and the feeling of a knower,
a hearer of unknown traces,
the multiples within simplicity
and eternity’s dips
of these countless realities.

When I found the Love footprints
The absence became present,
and… I know:
I am pre-sent to BE
in this everlastingness fate
which sounds like a formula.

No heart geometrics,
no inner alphabets…
a sense of nothingness
in your everyness…

Future selves
secret second selves,
connecting derivative patterns
and mathematical probabilities
in a Pythagorean sphere of harmony.



Educator, lecturer, performance poet, eclectic thinker, mentor with staunch multi-cultural mindset and entrepreneurial attitude, Anca Mihaela Bruma considers herself a global citizen, having lived in four continents. Her eclecticism can be seen in her intertwined studies, she pursued: a Bachelor of Arts (Romania) and a Master of Business Administration (Australia).

Anca labels her own writings as being “mystically sensual”, a tool and path for women to claim their own inner feminine powers. She uses poetics as a form of literary education, self-discovery and social engagement.

Multi-awarded on four continents

Awarded during two Global Poetry Festivals Festivals (Italy, Turkey, Canada)
Published in over 18 anthologies of poetry in 1.5 years
2016 – Three times called the Poet of the Month on 3 different global poetry platforms
2016 Launched her first poetry book called “The Light of Our Beingness – I Am that You Are”
2016 – Project Manager for KIBATEK 40 – Global Poetry Festival in Dubai



Poem- The Last Xmas Party before Everybody Got Old by Jade Blackmore September 29, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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The Last Xmas Party before Everybody Got Old

They stand in the kitchen
drinking eggnog.
She grabs and arranges
sprigs of his hair
til they stand up like
Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.
He talks about his trip to Paris
(animated, rapid-fire memories),
eyes round and brimming like a little kid with a new toy.


Jade Blackmore is a poet, pop culture blogger and occasional novelist. Visit her website at Jadeblackmore.com

The Hollow Year – Jade Blackmore August 4, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1980s, Jade Blackmore, poetry, romantic poems.
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The Hollow Year

He wears a black T-shirt,
Auburn hair swept back against his perfect cheekbones.
A hot trickle of tears scorches me
As I watch him fulfill her hissing request.
When I look at him even now,
Even when he is with her,
I can feel every breath I have ever taken.
There are memories in his every sinew,
In his every rounded muscle there are
Days and weeks of my life.
I waived my final chance to love him so I could hear poets bicker.
Now I beg just to have the privilege of seeing his face again.
A conceited geologist’s advances took the place of his icy, exact voice.
Three girls played pinochle in sub-zero temperatures as I locked myself
in the next room and thought of him.
My heart,
My vessels,
Were drained, empty for an entire year.
I deserted him because a short girl in overalls said, “The man is vulgar. He’s grown up wrong.”

It is good to be subtle.
It shows strength. Talent. Maturity.
It shows that I have forsaken my love for him to
Work 9 to 5 coding yesterday’s treason,
To ride aimlessly on the subway weekends,
And watch shoe stores liquidate
Just to pass the time.

Copyright 1981 Revised 2015

Poem-Wish May 19, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, romantic poems.
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Stars, countless but distinct
Match the longing in your eyes.
Our little clique tightens
While the world tumbles.
One kiss for every year wasted,
One sweep of hand on thigh
For every chance squandered.
There is no escape from
Dreams co-opted by age
Some obsessions reach their voyeuristic
And obvious conclusion
With a flourish.

Copyright 2004 Jade Blackmore

Poem – Waiting by Jade Blackmore March 30, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, romantic poems.
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Two homeless guys deal drugs
out of an abandoned station wagon.
I watch from the Silverlake Boulevard overpass,
eating a cookie in the dark.
Shopkeepers roll down their gates,
one by one while I wait for you.
I barely know you.
I don’t know what to expect.
Innocence makes me brave.

Copyright 2009 Jade Blackmore

Poem – The Last Note by Stephen Jarrell Williams January 18, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in love poems, New Poets, romantic poems, Stephen Jarrell Williams.
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The Last Note

 In the other room
She’s playing the piano

 I sit in the dark

How I could have changed
Her desperation

 Melody of madness

 Sleeping separately
In crimes to the other
Habit and escapism

 Loving the idea of love
But dwelling in the underlying hum
Of when we were young

So quiet now
Outside our open windows
Wind whispering through the trees

Night of the backside moon
Dancing leaves twirling
Slower and slower

Each tap of the piano key
Something near beautiful but haunting
In the lingering sound of us.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write in the middle of the night with a grin and grimace and a flame in his heart.  He is the editor of Dead Snakes at deadsnakes.blogspot.com

Poem – Inconsolable January 4, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in city poems, Hollywood, Jade Blackmore, love poems, poetry, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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Was too far gone a concept
The view beyond the observatory railing or
Blue stars
Hidden in the void,
Gutless but free.
More than
A tawdry romp
Would have been icing on the cake.
Just a slap and tickle
(and a messy one at that)
would have meant
More than all the Hallmark cards
And academic diatribes in the world.
From the ping of empty beer bottles
On St. Marks Place
To a cold carless Sunset Strip
On a Monday night
Tears where a warm body should have been.
It is a Bible-thumping lie
To think
We only regret
The hefty and somber
Mistakes of life.
The silly
Rhinestones that could have been
Leave scars just as deep.

Copyright 2003 Jade Blackmore

Poem – The Art of Sin December 31, 2014

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1990s, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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The Art of Sin

Impervious to judgement,
You move in
To pleasure me,
Uncannily knowledgeable
In the art of sin –
And you’re mine alone
With only my body to practice on.
Your hands ignite
Hidden molecules.
The fabric of your shirt
Underneath my nails,
So familiar
As I slide fingers
Against bare skin.
Your tongue wanders,
The inferno permanent,
Sealing us into
A cocoon of
Immortal delight.


Copyright 1993, 2004 Jade Blackmore

Poem- Freak Show December 14, 2014

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, poetry, poetry readings, romantic poems.
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 Freak Show

I would have forgiven you any other woman.
Why not a beautiful woman?
Why not one who genuinely loves you?
Her mouth on your skin is like poison corroding fine linen.
If she defiles you, it is not her I will blame.
A bitch can’t change her spots.
I thought you’d keep yours.

Copyright 2004 Jade Blackmore