Tag: poet

Ānanda

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

i allow myself
to feel joy,
peeling carrots
with my grandmother,
stroking my nose
against my doe rabbit’s

i allow myself
to feel beauty,
adorning my neck
with rose quartz necklaces,
gazing at the night sky
sliding itself into dawn

i allow myself
to feel stillness,
laying my naked skin
in fresh lavender sheets,
placing hands on my belly,
counting eleven deep breaths

i allow myself
to feel grief,
embellishing my knees
with tears, planting kisses
on the blisters
that bejewel my skin

i allow myself
to twinkle alive,
tulle pressed
to my damp thighs,
dancing with my
hands above my head

i
allow
life
to flow
through
me

🌷 poem from my poetry collection, “songs of youth”, the “at last, light: of joy” chapter. available on amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g.

throes by téa nicolae | songs of youth

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

you

spilled ice cream on my sundress

and swayed me to rock ballads

i

reminded you of spring

and faded in the summer breeze

we

had a common affinity

for boys with smudged eyes dressed in pretty skirts singing scratchy songs about loves lost to heroin

you

were my stained musician

i

was your absentminded poetess

we

were seeking to destroy ourselves

for throes of applause and tastes of success

you

did.

i

was one step before the chasm

when stratospheric glooms parted.

i

suddenly knew

that my quill did not have to be my ruin.

i

suddenly saw

that i could create beauty.

fluorescent tears on the train

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

crying fluorescent tears on the train,

𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?,

i say to you. my eyes are soft but i house venom underneath my teeth. i cloak my vulnerability in spite, daring you to be cruel to me so i can finally bite. you can tell.

𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨,

you finally say.

i gauge your kindness with suspicion.

when i detect no snide, i soften my tongue.

yes

but

𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥,

𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

there’s this song that lorde wrote after david bowie died

she sings about spilling our guts out on graceless nights because we are young and so ashamed,

frying our brains to the speakers

as we watch our heroes die

like lorde, all my heroes perished.

the party’s cut into my bones,

and the magic bullet’s wearing off.

dancing her feet on tombs,

lorde concludes

that she can’t stand to be alone.

watching my heroes fade,

i also thought

that i couldn’t stand to be alone.

yet i’m crying fluorescent tears on the train

and i feel my youth burning strong,

flaming my throat with anger and song.

my youth,

it still burns strong.

and i know.

my heroes ashed,

but i can stand

to be alone.

you open your mouth to respond

but i shake my head. i already know. it doesn’t need

to be spoken to me,

not anymore.

you smile and vanish in the scenery.

i’m crying fluorescent tears

on the train

and i can stand to be alone.

🦋 poem from my upcoming poetry collection which tackles the blooming into young adulthood. 💙

your mouth is the fire | bhakti poem by téa nicolae

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

your call is the cinder
your mouth is the fire
burning the tips of my fingers,
weaving my thoughts in gold wire.

my tears are the milk,
my oblations are the flowers
gliding onto the blest thāli,
pouring into fire that devours.

your curls are the waves,
your teeth are the moons
cooling the ārti of my heart ,
more precious than kingly boons.

my love is the oath,
my longing is the path
jostling me to you,
enough to endure the world’s wrath.

monsoon one, tell me
when my yearning reaches the skies
are you the sunlight
bathing my eyes?

Glossary
thāli – metal plate used in rituals of worship, on which offerings of fire and water are laid.
ārti – Sanskrit for ‘affliction’ or ‘distress’, as well as an alternative modern spelling for āratī, a ritual in which the light of a burning flame is offered to deities.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 my creative contribution to the Florilegium Anthology .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

🖤🥀🌼 FLORILEGIUM 🥀🌼🖤 is an anthology of fiction & non-fiction literature compiled by the 2022 cohort of the Warwick Writing Programme, birthed out of love for writing and out of commitment to expression and self-discovery through the art of writing. Florilegium features 21 emerging writers and it holds short stories, flash fiction & poetry. it was a pure delight to work on this collection with my very talented colleagues and it is a joy to see it out in print! the Florilegium launch was held in february in London 🖤 photos from the launch below!

i bank at your feet

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

“the world’s a boundless ocean

there’s no crossing it,

but i bank at your feet.

i see the waves,

the bottomless waters

and shiver in terror of dissolution.

be merciful,

save your beloved.

harbour me in your boat

to your feet.

the tempest storms without lull,

so too my shaking body.

i’m immersed in your name…Tārā!

the essence of the world.

fulfill this desire of You.”

my rendition of a few verses written by Bhakti poet Ramprasad Sen & picked from a poem dedicated to Tārā. the original translation belongs to Rachel Fell McDermott!

happy Navāratra! today is the last day of Śabda Institute’s immersion into the exquisite vidyā of Tārā, the luminous Mahāvidyā who embodies the very essence of pure expression – the north star that guides us to the self. we learned to chant the Tārā Dhyānam and explored highly esoteric concepts such as Vāk and Śabda Brahman from the standpoint of practical applications in our day-to-day lives. truly, what i love most about this approach is how highly practical and immediate the application is.

this Navāratra was wondrous, and i am grateful it is the second one i have spent in the company of our saṅgha. my heart swells for the glistening of the stars that shall guide me home…

śrī mātre namah!

xanax, side effects

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

*poem published in L. C. three years ago. it feels like a glimpse into another life…

when i was on xanax

my brain curled into itself

and

everything was numb

and nothing hurt.

my therapist had prescribed three doses of 0.25mg per day to me.

each morning

i would swallow a first dose

conscientiously

at 8:54

and i would carry off with my morning routine, while mentally rewinding the side effects.

forgetfulness

i roll in my sheets, patting the mattress, searching for my phone

trembling

i double-press snooze

changes in patterns

i fall on my back in bed, bringing my knees to my chest

clumsiness and unsteadiness

i doze off

drowsiness

i jerk as the alarm goes off

feeling sad and empty

snooze snooze snooze

shakiness, an unsteady walk

i rub my eyes. there’s a small ache in the back of my head. feels like it’s melting my thoughts apart.

slurred speech

i jump as the alarm rings for the third time.

(less common side effects)

loss of self-control

i search for a pair of panties to match my mood. grey

loss of coordination

i pull a shirt over my head

loss of memory

i flatten the wrinkles with my hands

loss of voice

i apply foundation unevenly

muscle stiffness

i press my nose to my mirror. i stare at my glazed eyes as i swallow my first dose.

i got off xanax because

while my insides didn’t clench anymore

my eyes could still see

the hurt.

i wrap my sadness in sequins by téa nicolae

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

*poem published in Cake Magazine.

i wrap my sadness in sequins.

i pour my sadness in fake eyelashes,

in glitter nails

in green hair dye

and i take my sadness out for a dance.

flash lights,

spilled drinks,

heels that crush your toes.

i lock hands with my sadness

and sway on sticky dance floors.

my sadness holds up her pocket mirror

in grimy club bathrooms

and she puts on three layers of red lipstick

while i rub off mine.

i ask my sadness to pull up my torn zipper

while, pupils enlarged,

i hum stevie nicks adoringly.

i throw a clumsy arm over my sadness

and guide her to another club.

i grind on empty party anthems

and, when boys try to kiss me,

i brush them off

because i’m loyal to my sadness.

at the end of the night

i crawl to mc donald’s with my sadness

one veggie burger large fries one large fanta oh and can i have some ketchup please

i stuff my face with my sadness

and we hail a cab in silence.

home

my sadness whispers gutted love declarations to me

and then tucks me in my bed gently.

i wrap my sadness in sequins
poem published in Cake Magazine 💙✨ i wrote it in my first year of uni for one of my seminars and it’s my favourite poem from that time. when i sat down to write it, my intention was to write about club culture and the glitz and the glammy, sticky sadness that came with it (for me) and this came out! 💙

Processed with RNI Films. Preset 'Agfa Optima 200'
Kayla Jenkins made such a lovely illustration for my poem! 🥰

my hips are bruised in my dreams by téa nicolae

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

*poem published in Eunoia Review

 

my hips are bruised in my dreams

and i wake up itching,

pressing my fingers onto my thighs,

covering my purple skin.

 

my hips swell in my dreams

and tentacles circle my feet,

wrapping around my toes when i walk

and i stumble and fall on my face.

when i wake up,

my cheeks ache.

 

my wrists have blisters in my dreams

and there is ash under my fingernails.

when i wake up,

my hands are swollen.

 

on cold nights

when i’m afraid to go to sleep

i light three candles

and hug my knees.

i promise myself

that one day

i won’t dream of bruises

 

one day

my dreams will be amber

and i’ll wake up with warmth

in my stomach.

 

 

my hips are bruised in my dreams
❤