Dorina Neculce


Born June 13, Neculce village from Botosani County. She attended the courses primary school in village Galbeni, then the middle school in rural schools Balint and Tătărăşeni commune Havarna.  Between 1980 and 1984 following studies at the Pedagogical High School (Lyceum), "Nicolae Iorga", profile filofogie--history from Botosani, North of Romania.  There where has teacher and class master on the poet Maria Baciu. teacher and class master of the Romanian Language and Literature. Between 1990-1994 attended the courses the Ecological University, Dimitrie Cantemir, from Iasi to at the section psychopedagogy where he argue the work of Diploma in mathematics domanin. Worked at School, Tudor Vladimirescu - from Albeşti, Botosani, She working on post the teacher of in 1990 until today. Currently she is professor at the primary school, "Ioanid Romanescu", Rom‚neşti (Rmouneshti phonetic) ,from Iaşi County. In eastern Romania.
* Member of Cultural Society Junimea 90 Iasi. * Member of the Academy free, ďPăstorel,,, Iasi. Publications. * Corresponding Member of the National Writers Union NWU, USA.

Her Publications (books of poetry) :

1) The World from the mirror - Publishing Pim. Iaşi-2010, preface, writing by the poet Maria Baciu;
2), The smile my gothic - Pim Publishing, Iaşi, 2010, preface ,writing by: literary critic Diana Sparrowuniversity professor at the University of Balti, Republic of Moldova;
3), Traces old - Pim Publishing, Iaşi, 2011, preface , writing by: writer Simona Modreanu;

Her blogs/sites:

Contact :

Poems by Dorina Neculce


my soul/
funeral incantation /
a fingernail blue in
that were

I am lost

In my soul
Gait in my fingers
my blood cold
- Poor child -
remained without border
I try to stray
over the banks of fog
turning my eyes
in the depths of springs
You- always depart-
with just wages up
my wandering soul


Iíve finished with profoundity
I tell myself from now on
I will be the common man
I will learn even the
dedication until beyond the word
a ceaseless bending
between a bourn and
the other-
swollen by the same flounder of eyelids
commiting myself heavenly
in a dance of white butterflies
I shall burn
in the light
of the wings
Fallen Tree

Iím old today
I have grooved skin
of fallen tree I climb over the ruins and
I sing with a feather shifted in my temple I
bend over and I write epitaphs
my hand is trembling as a violin
the touch of the bow
it dissipates me
through space
I become mistress wrapped in glass
the quiver breaks me
from thousands of pieces
I get myself together
-bloody dagger-
blotting out the dusk

Blind Grey Ravens

are swirling
above the world
are breaking lights in hungry tolls
the bodyís night is tearing
trembling hands counting the vainness
placing it in china cubes
another crucified Sunday
on another hill of the cross
another step one hundred seven and
mount Tabor will blunt in
this endless road
will break without asking
underneath our ribs
tired during this day
we donít make wreaths anymore
of branches of thorns
we donít bring the steel anymore
as a shield to our sins
and during this day
weíll enter shallow-hearted
in the stronghold because the nothingness
will never end

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