Cathartic Hearts - Hello Poetry

Aug 27

guy scutellaro

the monarch butterflies
above the sand dunes.

orange and black wings fluttering,
enjoy eternal maps, (no glove compartment)

the smell of ocean salt
in the morning air.

they lift higher and higher
the journey begins
as it has for thousands of years

(the artist's brush)

one morning they fly

a journey of thousands of miles.
the moment that begins and never ends,

sand and sea and serendipity.

Aug 24

Maria Mitea

…and even with a whisper,

…and even with a whisper,
revive my depths,
turn me like a veil,
face down
in the
grass
falling asleep,
with
the
feet in the sky to be born -- maybe,
maybe
something will stick to my soles,
growing arms from the rain,
flying among the clouds

but what are the depths?
other than the
unheard
pulse,
the
untouched
breath,
palms-braided-in-roots,
the flower withered
because of a kiss,
the
leaves
blown by the wind,
dew fallen on
crosses,

but what are the depths?
than frankincense, - the place where
rivers never dry,
the place where  rivers run away from us towards
forghetfulness
of oblivion…

towards
forghetfulness
of oblivion…
stir up my depths,
…and even with a whisper,
stir up my depths,
turn my
face down to earth,
hopefully
i can lose my steps in the sky-- maybe,
maybe
            something will stick to my soles,

in the sky maybe,
                                   maybe
something will stick to my soles

#mariamitea

Aug 24

irinia

craft

I teach your name to the breath of words,
to the folds of dusk, to the quiet cups of morning
then I turn inward to who we are beneath the surface of silence.
no thread of certainty but rhythmic pulses I feel
the horizon’s glow is fading
I craft love from the certainty of unspoken fears
I etch poetry into the air to sooth my eyes from absence

#poetry

Aug 19

irinia

poetry

your eyes incite such an echo on my lips
it reverberates every time I hear the trees, it engulfs my hands
I feel how your gaze caresses my hair
sometimes only poems keep me whole
the hidden parts play hide and seek with daylight
all the me that cannot be create holes between words
I wait for time to confess its indifference
the solitude of skin is inborn but
poetry is this incessant birth of an imaginary me

#poetry

Aug 17

Agnes de Lods

The Mathematics of Feelings

My thoughts strike from within.
Anger, helplessness, then tenderness
crash against an invisible wall.
The helmsman has set a course
for unsteadiness—
in an hour, maybe two,
another wave of doubt will come.

The sum of scenarios
weighs more than yesterday,
tattooing my soul from within.
I’m waiting,
freezing my tired mind.
Forget?
I can't anymore –
The anchor sank deep.
His voice rests in my depths.

I don't want to sail alone,
even though words of assurance
sound like a childish game.

I divide my loneliness into two,
adding up the “what ifs” –
I forgot the order of operations,
still remembering that my heart
beats slower, then faster.

I take a calm breath.
An invisible pin
pierces the back of my head.
It hurts—physically hurts—
But I won't back down.

I don't want to sleep.
I'm waiting for dawn,
for the solution to the equation
of my life,
with two unknowns.

I'm waiting
for those hands,
for that gaze,
for that smile,
for that warmth.

#mathematics #feelings

Aug 13

irinia

is it

a Proustian quest for original wonder gets illuminated among pine, olive, palm trees
the eye needs delicacy and moderation to grasp the breeze of thoughts
is it the soul or an architect of joy who blends the harmonies in a pointilist smile on my face
an atmospheric fluidity in my hands between land, sea and light

#land #sea #light #harmony

Aug 12

irinia

night watch

in the blindness of night darkness is a form of light falling into itself
there's so much to be seen but the eye has blue limits
I watch how I am pushed inside
by the centrifugal force of breathing
these women in me, known and unknown
they insist, whisper, shout, smile, dance, cry, they carres the echoes of shadows they want to tell me
what love is in the dreamed language of the blind
I say to them: no, you don't know
what love is
Yet

#poetry #love

Aug 12

irinia

Sometimes

I couldn't dance with my eyes full of skin
Sometimes depth is synonym with pain
The ache of heart echoed the light of night
Luckily the moon was full of herself

Boats are roaming the shining, boats are sleeping in the port
Dreams are seafarers well contained in the electriciy of skin
Fishermen talk to me
I talk to you with invisible words
"Au revoir madame with beau chapeau"
Time is an artist in the randomness of breath

"C'est tres beau", says a little boy to me
We are smiling together at the sunset
It's the first time he sees it in the train, he confides in me
Innocent tears spin through my heart
Words cross boundaries when they feel what they see

#life

Aug 5

irinia

At some point

At some point soon I will lose my eyesight
so I am getting ready
Every day
I try to remember your smile
which will soon be my only light

by Ionut Calota, translated by Lidia Vianu

#poetry