Posts Tagged With: dreams

song for the bewitched pumpkin


it was a beautiful story about little girls big as acorns reading other stories
sitting upon bewitched little mushrooms
with hot milk with honey inside amber cups before bedtime

I sat with my ear on forest soil
searching for the tree of trees
the giant from the fairy tale
his words stilled the whole breathing
didn’t you know that trees speak louder than the wind?

stay calm hard-boiled apple sun of a bastard goldfinch mouthwatering gingerbread
today I need to draw a rainbow like a hammock for all the dreaming in the world
like children do before ever seeing one
I miss the forbidden fortress that grows for centuries within ourselves
I cried and I believe that my teardrop is the stem of sunrise
let it be for offerings and sinlessness

Advertisements
Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

jagged


life is jagged
it sticks with doggish eyes to your ankle
and asks for fondling
at the border of the wasteland
where the long black engine whistles from time to time

but life is jagged and has no pity
alike the human brain seen under microscope
it has an extended area if you unfold it
each little street from the slums bears the name of a saint
there the scent of barbecue and beer mixes with incense
the magicians play tough games
forcing the neighboring constellations
to disappear
they bury them over the heads of everyone
under pleated and fanciful dresses

and fog falls in for the people who died for saintly matters
those who don’t understand the stubbornness of the bull
compelled to fight
with its bloody horns
there is the Moon climbing on the sky heavier and heavier
red or yellow
jagged on its edge like an old weeding knife

Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , | 3 Comments

the sleep of the gods


once I met an old and wise woman with a shriveling body
that kind of women resembling very old and knotty oak trees
growing in the graveyard of the innocents
she told me that she does not intend to sell me lies and fairy tales
because there are very very old trees that don’t fall asleep
unless the birds of the sky disenchant them
in their sweet and tender mother tongue
so new flower buds can open sometimes

I started to complain that I don’t want to be awake all of the time
but she retorted that only God alone does not sleep
and that’s why very tall trees are cut down
to avoid the winking from their leaves
and that’s why the foresters don’t guard the dreams of the ones
who stay high on tiptoe
because necessity is the mother of wisdom
of those who understand what it means to be just human
in the children’s world
of wondering and un-wondering

Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

super-stitions


i fear
for the night hour when the clock’s second hand moves backwards one second
for the dreams of the child who counts how the old bed crackles three times
for all the flags or banners with three colors and for all those who say three two one go

yes i’m afraid
of rebellious numbers mad banshees amazons armed with arrows or eucalyptus candies
i fear that saint george won’t thrust his spear deep enough this year
i fear to throw pearls of wise fairy tales in front of those who don’t need stories
i measure the time honestly with the hour three a.m. still uncertain between night and day
through the heat left by poppies in the field
through the number of white stars in the hair of a lonely woman

i fear that i will pull out the silver jesus from the crucifix and i will sell it
as a legitimate part of the saint trinity
for a bit of bread or white soap

Categories: My Poems in 2015, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Achilles’ Heel


After the last earthquake
a falcon nested under my temples…
this bird hunts at dawn while I’m still asleep,
she is untamed by the arm of the man
with a deerskin glove.

I killed in my dreams all the dragons
and the seven capital sins;
I fought with the essential myths
of a woman’s life
until my tears were sipped by unknown heroes
dying without confession.

I know that I killed in vain
everything frightening…
now I’m afraid of the ant under the sole of my foot:
she is so powerful
because I can’t do a thing
beyond her life
or beyond her death.

Categories: My Poems in 2015, Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.