Mihaela Oancea writes a mature artistic poetry, with a precise cut of the verse and the ability to capture relationships between the external reality and the lucidity that fixes her in snapshots, roles, masks. The sense of observation is sharp, so that "the world" and "life" will be perceived, from within them, in a different and unique way. Most of the texts are short and concentrated, remarkably constructed, offering the attentive reader not only the proof of a lyrical talent, but also that of a poetic culture.
The volume is well worth the prize obtained when it was only a manuscript.
Daniel Cristea-Enache
For a poet who has the cult of silence, Mihaela Oancea is quite talkative and hardworking editorial. Although he knows all too well that "words remain unfaithful," while "our silences are the bypass / what heals our wounds," the poet being, he can do nothing but achieve silence through speech. Or at least to delegate the confession on account of a report on Isabelle, so that she can use a descriptive language, somewhat neutralized, instead of a participatory one. But this only in the first issue of this triptych, because otherwise he puts himself in the equation, professing spring images, handwritten in the Chinese way ("runs among dandelions / with rain in his backpack"), mixed with book references and neologisms a bit ostentatious, to cope with what is really happening around her, where "fear pours like mud". This fear is exorcised by Mihaela, using imaginative candor and saturated referentiality as a precarious shield.
Al. Cistelecan
"Loneliness in two", in the words of a well-known poet, is sometimes shared, on the spiral of life, by the presence of not at all easy futility. The fear of death, raised on the pedestal, sums up a result of a lyrical path with ingenious "knots and signs". For Mihaela Oancea, silence reverberates silence and depth. From the wings of rest, the words take out their crest, as from a matrix, like the flowers in the snow crust. Cold and hot emotions overwhelm, but also destabilize. Add, but also waste. A symbolism of the chiaroscuro, well done by the author, in this remarkable volume, convinces me to say that Mihaela Oancea is a distinct name in our poetry today.
Nicolae Panaite