Cristina Moldoveanu > Writing | WritersCafe.org

Many waters flew down in a row. I couldn’t see my traces anymore: barefoot child footprints, hoofs, wagon wheels piling up lik..

My first attempt of acrostic

longing for happiness...

I was born at winter’s end becoming accustomed with nesting cold where fire was put out I guarded the hearth cinders ..

a poem for children

about my pure love for humankind and my need to give and to give and to give...for example good thoughts, love, deeds, poems...

I locked my bedroom door hiding like a wounded dog without cleansing my injuries. There’s a blue hole in my belly, the c..

A rock on the beach, cold lava of unspoken questions, only summer rain can move me, like heavy chains dragging my body in a betrot..

a story poem about one of my grandmothers

again some memories