Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jez Farmer Oct 27
I’m not yours, I do not belong to you
I can not be found as I am not lost
Even though our stars are destined to cross
Our love will shine in a different hew
No red stained rose can declare my heart true
As over your tears my lips gently gloss
Absorbing your pain like riverside moss
Such tenderness of love is mine to do
But my soul will not be still in your hand
For love will never pierce my heart of stone
Not in the ways that any can understand
Although I’m beside you I am alone
Like a pebble amid the grains of sand
The candle that burns to guide you back home
Maria Mitea Sep 10
Luna!
Una tu!
Divina creatura!

Asculta, Luna! Asculta!
Only you can hear my soul!

Una tu,
Angel de la Guarda,
Te auguro la Luna!
Te ador Luna suava!

Credema, Luna! Credema!
Only you can see my soul!

Eu sunt,
Umbra ta terestra,
Lumina azurie vivanta,

Eterna principessa in the dark!
Luna, angelic guardian!
Dante Rocío Jul 27
Ci riscaldato
Lo Sguardo,
Un buco trascina con pensieri
bellamente da eleganza pervertiti,
La pioggia mi propria caldaia
Che ne faccio far‘ di sé,
Che ne faccio star’ da me.

Scelgo di ballare senza corpo
Ma fare i passi scuri in negazione,
Osservazione, vero mascalzone
Altrimenti: note di silenzio fragorose.
Momento il piano,
Battimenti di cuore per i piedi.
Bolle ermetiche per fiato.

Menestrello d’Utopie starò,
In piedi come Ellissi rimerò
E vedrò come la fine verrà
Per lacrime brucianti dalla
Nullità di nuvole.

Scelgo di splendere negli
occhi di metà coperchio
E che si fa del loro febbrile?
Si suda dallo affascinante,
Si apre il petto per sentire
come caldo sta il muscolo cardiaco
E si fa amore colle sue battaglie,
Nello scuro del Giorno,
come vuoi,
O lucidità della Notte.

Non si dice ragione.
Nella piuma c’è rumore.
A trial in scarlet darkness of
music sonorous in mind,
Trying to capture my vivid beat in melody,
While dancing glory in pencil gold hair
In the pit of thoughts in Me.
In lush green of cigarette Italian book-like.

Prima, Prova.
First, Trial/
Earlier, Try.
Lyn-Purcell Jun 25

Fingers work lightly
Holding breath ahead of time
Farming of today

Planning of futures
Nature's grasp now look for more
Sun shines so brightly

So greatly humbled
The future will need me more
than my own past would


Another beautiful day today!
Here I am at work listening to Ludovico Einaudi's 'Divienire' track on repeat. I listened to it on the way and will do so throughout my shift.
His music makes me feel so reflective, so emotional.
And slowly, I am learning to forgive myself for all my past mistakes, as much as I lament on them.
I know my future needs me more than my past ever would.
It's hard, but I'm getting there...
Slowly but surely.
So Amanda, this one's for you! Thank you so much for everything 😊💜🌹

Divenire translates into 'to become / becoming' I believe which is fitting.
I have so many plans in the works. I will do my best to turn up as the person I dream of being in this life.

For those who want to hear the track, here is the link:  https://youtu.be/b8SkX9CSJQo
Please do listen, it's well worth it! Easily one of my favourite composers to date! I discovered him by accident but it was well worth it!

Have a lovely day everyone!
Stay safe and well!
Much love,
Lyn 💜

(P.S, I will be starting and resuming some of my old collections and I have a new one in the works, I'm just doing extensive research for now.
I feel so inspired! Alot of ink will spill soon!)
Dante Rocío Jun 17
It hurts to end a book,
It hurts to end our story.
To know it was just a glimpse,
Soon nothing short of an eternal memory
Embedded, anything but faded

It hurts to leave you by,
To detach myself from you
Knowing my departure’s to be now or never,
For any other encounter shall be a timeless pain.
Knowing already, with you unaware,
Your journey’s destiny,
What came to be, comes and what will come,
Perish or last.

Like a mother, or a father, or a heavenly angel,
I see you grow, I see you change
And dance and play with the dangerous and unknown fate.
Then I can’t help but notice as melancholy,
So great that sorrowful,
Starts simmering in my chest
When I finally come to my senses to, in fact, realise
That with every new difference, every new feeling, thought and day
You drift further and further away
Like the dearest ship you loved with all your might,
With me, surprisingly, sailing away,
With the sense of excitement and fear too,
Together into the Unknown

When we arrive at our last harbour,
Despite our battle with merciless time,
At the last droplets of the quill’s ink staining those rusty pages,
I acknowledge the inevitable finale.
Though my mind stands tall, my heart crumbles
Not wishing to leave,
To untie the bond with the one,
Who loved the same world of dreams,
Audacity and passion,
The one and only who knew and believed in my vision,
Ideals as I
And never returned to the chains on his knees

With sobs racking my body and fiery protests in my stomach
I give you my last kiss, bidding goodbye,
As if death was making us part.
It’s been my greatest honour and pleasure to accompany your every step.
To look back with aching heart on your glorious days,
To see every dark corner of your puzzling past...

To experience this mystery being life as truly one entity.

I mourn over this moment,
Aware of the cruel ticking of the clock that came to an end
And returning no more to us,
As every other return shall leave a bitter taste in the mouth,
Overwhelming with my conscience of your final chapter on every step:
With you already gone
Lingering in the memories of the pages,
Invincible to time yet aware of it no more,
Unaware of any other moment than “now” and “here”

It hurts to close a book.

It hurts to end a story.

Of us ceasing to be,
Of us ceasing to speak.
As no other tale shall replace soon what we bore,
I bid my “Farwell”,
Leaving another piece of my being in you
For an eternity.

With these final breaths I pay my tribute to you,
For what you were, gave, did,
Took, created and left.
To James Fry, a barefoot sailor of the seven seas.
The consort of the oceans and the seas.
The audacious, brave and challenging kid.
The man who was courageous enough to live,
On his own terms, never bent to any mortal,
Never bound to the earth nor dull reality.

Wish you favourable winds in the sails of The Morning Star.
May you end your days with the same greatness you lived and were destined for.
5 di dicembre 2019.
Un omaggio a “La Vera Storia del Capitano Uncino” da Pierdomenico Baccalario.
Le ringrazio moltissimo per questa avventura e per guidarmi verso le lacrime del Cuore. Per le nostre lettere. Per il mio primo poema, questo.
Che bello.
Dante Rocío Jun 14
Nella faccia del Senso e di Tutte Le Cose, come davanti al Nascimiento o alla Morte, si risolvono le domande
ed anche noi con tutti i nuostri miraggi: siamo prima di tutto gli stessi bebé, impotenti,
incapabili di vincere tutto
solamente con la raggione,
deboli come porcellana che neghiamo.
I bebé che fanno lo stesso:
sognano,
piangiano,
provano di capire,
suffrono,
osano,
amano
e passano così veloce
ed invisibilemente
come cenere.
Saremo tutti giudicati
e valorati
nello stesso modo
nell’equilibrio
For everyone’s been born to the same respect and grandiosity of porcelain.
A hierarchy put in becoming slander
Jonathan Moya Mar 24
The virus news carries me from room to room.
A Verdi aria breaks the solemn
chant of the rising death tolls in my brain
as Italians sing to the sick below,
voice to voice forming a single line of hope,
that filters down to the lonely windows,
my electric screen, all the world’s tablets.  
The music spreads over the mournful lulls,
penetrates through the hemagglutinin,
nucleoproteins singed by joyous noise.
The alarms of Corollas join the chorus,
even the rain ululates with applause.
The gift of every note dotes on the glass.
The ventilated sick duet with their eyes,
pale hands conducting the voices above.
The voices background the daily briefing,
the drone of Trump, and the doctors after him.
I switch to another song, more mellow-
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, something
in the same tempo, in unison, that allows
my small cautious soul to match their big notes.
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...

Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or his "no" lies dead.

Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?

Consider that such horrors have indeed been!

I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.

Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.

Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in ****-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
Zach Dec 2019
Beneath the sun in shining Veneto,
Wondering freely alongside warm radiant houses,
Clinging vines embrace the structures,
Pastel streets developing,
Town life unfolds slowly,
Strolling as you wonder,
How did you ever forget this?

There's love in shining Veneto,
Love around every corner,
Love propped up by every barstool,
Love flies by on every cycle,
Enough love to make you a fool.
Love in every face that passes,
Love on the street,
A chance for bliss,
In those you meet.

I'll learn the language you'll soon see,
Then you'll finally be with me.
Away from what I know,
We'll take our time,
To watch our vineyard grow.
A new love will mature so pure and true,
My answer to life was always you.

Take my hand,
Lead me to where things don't hurt any more,
A small touch of kindness travels a long way,
Bypassing cynicism and misery,
A new love anchored and here to stay.

As our feelings build,
The vineyard grows in sync,
Soon to be sipping on lovers wine,
Together as one,
You saved me.
I felt what could be,
Now it's all that I see,
Please let me stay here forever.

It's easy to be happy here,
All we need is each other.
A warm soft embrace,
Closer than ever,
Rushed with radiant bliss and flooded with emotion,
Please don't let go,
Even though I know we can't stay here forever.

Darkness arrives,
All that can touch us is the moonlight,
Shining down on a new love that pulses in sync,
The Italian who saved me from the brink.
Now together as one,
Sleep tight,
We'll stay here as long as we can.

Only welcome these feelings,
When this time you know it's for real,
Numbing solace,
Cured with an injection of warmth,
Only found in such an embrace,
A closeness that leads to a special place,
Where life flows differently,
The present path you tread sways gently,
Leading to a softer future,
Where reality aligns with dreams,
Becoming how it was always meant to be.

We fell in love,
Under the sun in shining Veneto,
Soon to be left cold,
Empty and searching.

Zach Ascot
A poem I wrote expressing my dream of Italian bliss.
Next page