ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Each individual poem is copyrighted - Tous droits réservés

 

TUTTI I DIRITTI RISERVATI. Il copyright di ogni poesia appartiene ad ogni singolo autore

 

The poems are published in order of arrival

Poesie pubblicate in ordine di arrivo

Les poèmes sont publiés par ordre d'arrivée


words from dylan thomas

Rage, rage against the dying of the light


Massimo Trombi (Italy): A DYLAN MARLAIS THOMAS

A DYLAN MARLAIS THOMAS

 

Viaggiare nella parola fino ad impazzire,

prodursi nel suono come un cieco nella luce,

ammarare in una quiete silenziosa.

A questo conducono i tuoi versi, Dylan,

così ebbri di musica e d’incanto.

Adamantini e oscuri come la notte

rischiarata dalla luna, quando all’una

l’orologio rintocca sul mare in ascolto.

Nel groviglio dei tuoi pensieri s’annidano api

e il vento che fa stormire felci e foglie.

E alle tue voglie, quando cercavi

il grembo di tua moglie,

tuo sigillo d’amore.

A soli vent’anni, bruciavi.

Nel destino di astro nascente, bruciavi.

E cantavi caos e genesi, vita e morte

finché del sole hai sostenuto la visione.

Sa di radice, il tuo viaggio terrestre,

ove è sacro ogni essere vivente.

E nel profondo dell’anima

ogni pianto si fa preghiera.

E la briciola acquista, identità, valore,

in questi giorni apocalittici: chissà

come avresti declinato, oggi,

tu, mentre scrivo, la parola amore.

 

 

MASSIMO TROMBI

 

Massimo Trombi (Torino, Italia), libraio.

Studioso del periodo italiano di Dylan Thomas

https://www.binariagruppoabele.org/


Imma schiena (italy): la tempesta estiva

 

La tempesta estiva

 

 Si apre il cielo

fra i polmoni

di nuvole incupite

Un rombo di  tuono 

rompe l’etereo silenzio

La sua voce troneggiante

echeggia  fra le folate del vento

sulla timorosa collina

Cadono urla stonate 

ed un  lampo squarcia

l’imponente pino che impotente

sradica le sue radici

Arreso per terra 

piange i suoi rami spezzati

Dal campanile della chiesa

scappano involontari

i rintocchi della campana,

annunciano la tempesta estiva

che si presenta maestosa

Il mare nascosto tra i lembi della terra

cerca riparo nelle grotte della scogliera

Lampi infuocati illuminano

lo stralcio dell’aria cupa

La gente della collina 

trova rifugio tra le scure chiuse 

di una casa grigia

Voci ancestrali si dissolvono

fra atavici profumi 

Senza scampo

ascolto silenziosa

Beccheggiano i pensieri

sulle rullanti acque

Urla e piange il cielo

Tocca ora a lui gridare la sua rabbia

La terra  madre non può che 

abbracciare il suo sposo:

il cielo, stizzito per l’umana ingratitudine

apre i suoi bronchi e investe la terra

Mai così tanta rabbia vedo eguale alla mia

 

 IMMA SCHIENA

 

Imma Schiena (Torino, Italia). Dopo aver terminato gli studi socio-econo­mi­ci, si dedica alla poesia e al teatro.  In­segna e vive a Torino.  È in­serita in diverse An­to­lo­gie tra cui I Grandi Classici del­la Poesia Italiana del 1900, Ali Penna d’Autore, 2013. È nella grande Raccolta di poesie e com­menti liberi Perché tu mi dici: Poeta, Hogwords, 2014. Premiata in diversi concorsi letterari e al Poetry Slam Na­zionale a Milano nel 2018. Dai testi si evince il suo impegno civico e sociale contro ogni forma di discri­mi­na­zio­ne.

http://www.genesi.org/autore-imma-schiena-392362.html


Huguette BeRtrand (canada): A matter of Hope

A MATTER OF HOPE

 

From ages to ages

the light is still burning

in the deepest nights

 

when the raging storms

try to switch it off

the gentle sun always

keeps the blindness away

when a gleam is still at sight

 

no more grief in dark old nights

since the blaze of the gentle light

will always ignite hope and good deeds

from time to time for happy endings

in the good nights

 

HUGUETTE BERTRAND

 

Huguette Bertrand (Canada). She is a French-Canadian poet and editor. She has published 38 poetry books. Some of her poems have been published in French and in English in many international poetry journals and anthologies. She is the Canadian representative of the international movement Immagine & Poesia.

https://www.facebook.com/huguette.bertrand.9

 http://www.espacepoetique.com/


Stanley Barkan (USA): Nayman

NAYMAN

 

Let me say nay

to all patterns

linking birth to death,

sleep to a thousandth life.

 

Let me say nay

to the scissors of the clock

cutting to sunder

at a second’s stroke.

 

Let me say nay

to her who’d mark me

in her book of hours,

unman me in some fashioned place

without grass,

without the blinding sun

to burn my loins

alive.

 

Let me say nay

to the return of comets,

the fixed turn of sky;

hold back the waving

flurry of the spray,

the cyclic fall of leaves

and burst of seeds.

 

Let me say nay

to my old foe

I wrestle with

from cock’s crow

to knell of bell

clappering at the croak

of sun

and quartering
of the madman moon.

 

Let me say nay

to the scythy

slicing of the days,

take his grinning skull

and split him up a tree,

duel with the guarding sword,

walk through the fire unscorched

and over the ice stretch

from Eden to the end of days

and blast the phoenix 

back to flight.

STANLEY H. BARKAN



First published in The Blacklines Scawl (1976)

 

 Stanley H. Barkan (U.S.A) Poet and Publisher, Stanley H. Barkan’s latest books include, Crossings, translated into Russian by Aleksey Dayen; Brooklyn Poems and Sutter & Snediker (2016); and Gambling in Macáu and No Cats on the Yangtze, both translated into Chinese by Zhao Si (2017).  In 2017, he was awarded the Homer European Medal of Poetry & Art.  American Representative of the art-literary Movement Immagine& Poesia.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_H._Barkan


Peter Thabit Jones (UK): Garden of clouds

GARDEN OF CLOUDS

(to Dylan Thomas)

 

Your life had become
A speeded-up film,

Moving too fast, sickly,

Each frame flashed by,

Too quickly, not settling
At all in the scrapbook

Of your mind. Your voice

Was left behind, in rooms
Of strangers sipping wine,
Their politeness like fresh paint
Drying on walls.

 

You were always traveling,
In a plane, a bus or a car,

Yesterday was always lost
Above a garden of clouds,
In a station of tired faces,

On a table in a café
On a never-ending road.

You felt so alone, your past
Blocked off by each city’s dream
Of sky-threatening stone.
Your dramas drowned in each smile.

 

The ash of your words
Smouldered in the books
That they bought and shelved
In their unknown lives.

You were losing yourself.
Your emotions rode

The conveyor-belts of their eyes.

You got as close as a lover
With your pockets of songs.

You wore the garments of death
With the laughter of a clown.

 

At night, when sleep played
Games with your soul

And the traffic smothered
Your slow pictures of love,
New poems dripped into
The wounds of your life

Below the garden of clouds.

 

                                                                                   PETER THABIT JONES

 

Peter Thabit Jones  (U.K.). Peter Thabit Jones is the author of sixteen books. Translated into over twenty languages, he is the author, with Aeronwy Thomas, of the Dylan Thomas Walking Tour of Greenwich Village, New York, available as a book, a guided tour via New York Fun Tours, and a DT100 app.  British Representative of the art-liteary movement Immagine & Poesia.

 www.peterthabitjones.com   

 

 


Ann Bagnall (Australia): Like the sun, vanishing into the night

Like the sun, vanishing into the night

 

Like the sun, vanishing into the night

Upon the flames of dreams of yesterday

I am forever, fading, from the light

 

My heart filled with the shadows of twilight

Is breaking apart, a crumbling bouquet

Like the sun, vanishing into the night

 

Leaves are falling, red bleeding into white

As shadowless dusk, gently steals the day

I am forever, fading, from the light

 

The wings of mourning doves, whistle in flight

Gradually melting into the grey

Like the sun, vanishing into the night

 

I recall when the flames of love burned bright

But now, as the brush of night paints the way

I am forever, fading, from the light

 

In quiet melancholy of hindsight

Turning to darkness and drifting away

Like the sun, vanishing into the night

I am forever, fading, from the light

 

© ANN BAGNALL 2020.

Bagnall, Ann (Australia). Ann Bagnall is based in Sydney, Australia and has loved poetry since she was a young girl. She also is an amateur photographer and loves the poetry of images. 


Lidia Chiarelli (Italy): Un printemps encore

Un printemps encore

(à Dylan Thomas)

 

Here in this spring, stars float in the void

Dylan Thomas

 

Un printemps encore

et les étoiles

toujours les étoiles éblouissantes dans le vide.

Attirée par un appel hypnotique

je plonge dans l'obscurité absolue.

 

Le souffle distant du vent

le long des rivières de perle

accompagne le vol de la dernière mouette.

Les vagues hurlent et se brisent

sur les rives de la mer.

 

Avec toi

seule avec toi

je vais remonter.

Indemne.

 

 

Je survole des marées et des précipices aux contours liquéfiés.

Des octogones de lumière brillent

dans leur géométrie parfaite.

 

J'entends des vibrations dans l'immense silence :

l'avenir est enveloppé de brume.

 

Au loin

ma destination lentement

 

se démaille.

 

LIDIA CHIARELLI

 

 

21 mars 2020

 

Lidia Chiarelli (Torino, Italy).  Artist and writer, co-founder, with Aeronwy Thomas, of the art-literary Movement Immagine & Poesia (2007). Award -winning poet. Five Nominations to Pushcart Prize (USA). Her poems are translated multilingually.

https://lidiachiarelli.jimdofree.com/

 https://lidiachiarelliart.jimdofree.com/

 https://immaginepoesia.jimdofree.com/

 

 


Maki Starfield (Japan): Go forward

前へ進みなさい

 

はじめて手にした本は聖書だった

「はじめに言葉ありきーーー」

わたしはこの言葉に惹かれた

 

この世でアダムとイブが出会って 人間の世界が始まった

二人の物語は終わっても わたしたちの人生は終わらない

 

昨日から今日へと

地平線のようにつながって

今日から明日へと移っていく

 

この重たさにーーー

風よ、前へ進みなさい

 

聖書の中の暗闇を

心のなかに

きらめく星に変えよう

 

果てしなく流れていく 拡がっていく

わたしの言葉 前へーーー

 

 MAKI STARFIELD 

 

Go Forward

 

The book I got for the first time was the Bible

"In the beginning was the word..."

I was attracted to this word

 

Adam and Eve met in this world and the human world began

Even if the stories of those two people are over, our life will not end

 

From yesterday to today

Connected like a horizon

I will move from today to tomorrow

 

Upon this heaviness…

O wind, go forward!

 

In the heart,

Let's change the darkness of the Bible

Into sparkling stars

 

Endlessly flowing, spreading

My words before it

 

 Maki Starfield (Japan). Maki Starfield was born in Japan where she studied English and American literature, teaching and business, with further work in Canada. She has published poems, haikus and translations in JUNPA publications. She is the Representative of Immagine & Poesia in Japan.

http://www.ama-hashi.com

https://www.facebook.com/maki.starfield

 


Carla Bertola (ITALY): Squarci

SQUARCI

 

Ogni nota è un petalo

 

Ogni petalo un canto

Ogni canto è azzurro

Nella brezza  che soffia dai mari.

I cigni sono muti e mutevoli

Nell’alba esausta in primavera,

 mentre le stelle navigano

viene giù a rovesci.

Il vento ci rovescia il manto

E la lampada, alberi e foglie

Solleva la nostra barca

Dove volano i cormorani

E l’uomo avrà stelle ai gomiti

E  se impazzirà sarà sempre saggio

And death shall not have no dominion

 

 

 CARLA BERTOLA

 

 

Carla Bertola è scrittrice e poeta  multimediale. Opera in campo internazionale con performances, mostre, pubblicazioni.  Ha diretto per 40 anni la rivista di poesia internazionale “Offerta Speciale” e si occupa ancora di edizioni e programmi culturali.

http://www.ulu-late.com/atlante/bertola.htm

 


Alberto vitacchio (Italy): Per dylan thomas

Per Dylan Thomas

 

In assenza di gomiti e piedi

potrebbero sbocciare fiori

e ruote

e rive impazzite e morte

spaccare la fede

in presenza di gabbiani

solleva scrosci di pioggia e tendini contorti

giacendo lungo le rive del sonno

si sciolgono grumi di chiodi

annotando rigo per rigo

le scansioni furiose di vento

strappate dal mare le ossa

si celebrano margherite di gesso

incautamente

incuranti del dominio inquieto dei fogli

dell’agguato scarnificato che dissolve

l’assenza della luna

garbatamente rifiutando il dominio

esangue della morte

si scrivono righe accuratamente miniate

potrebbero restare inviti a ricomporre poemi

potrebbero under the windings of the sea

 

ALBERTO VITACCHIO

 

 

Alberto Vitacchio. Poeta lineare, visuale e sonoro. Opera in campo internazionale con performances, creazione di libri d’artista e pubblicazioni. Il suo ‘viaggioscrittura’ Landlessness riscritto in Inglese è nelle edizioni Archae Editions. Dal 1978 coeditore della rivista multimediale Offerta Speciale.

http://www.ulu-late.com/english/atlas/vitacchio.htm


Marco Scalabrino (Sicily-Italy): Turnasti

Turnasti

 

Di musica

chi pèrcia li visceri e la midudda

agghiòmmara nta un cartasu,

di religioni

chi di duluri pasci e non-viulenza

l’armi fauttiati,

di marziani

chi affùddanu li sicchi di l’inconsciu

mascarati di mazzamareddi…

mi parravi cu ardenza;

e ju arrunzava siddiatu

dda camula vùncia di stravacanza.

 

Na pennula di luci bianca

un sciallu di rasu russu

un cannistru di testimoni fuschi,

 soni lu viulinu

e t’inchini

e respiri americanu.

Eppuru giurassi chi stasira,

toi lu varvarottu lu bulìu l’essenza,

turnasti

sulu pi sfùttiri a mia.

 

MARCO SCALABRINO

 

_______________

You’ve returned

 

(translated by Tony Di Pietro)

 

Of music / that pierces the guts and the brain /

it wraps in a cone, / of religions / that nourishes of pain

and non-violence / tormented souls, / of martians / that crowd

the shallows of the unconscious / masked by nightmares… /

you spoke to me enthusiastically; / and I scornful distanced

from me / that nuisance filled with extravagance. // A beam

of white light / a red satin shawl / a handful of shady witnesses, /

you play the violin / and you bow / and you breathe american. /

I would swear that tonight, / yours the face the fervor

 the essence, / you’ve returned / only to make fun of me.

 

 

 

Marco Scalabrino. Poeta, saggista, traduttore e autore di testi teatrali. Studioso e cultore del dialetto siciliano. Ha pubblicato: PALORI; TEMPU palori aschi e maravigghi; CANZUNA di vita di morti d’amuri; LA CASA VIOLA; La puisia di / The Poetry of Marco Scalabrino. Ha scritto tre commedie: LU CARRUBBU DI TITTA, L’AFFARI BUSILLIS, B, B & B PARADISU.

http://www.ilportaledelsud.org/scalabrino_marco_02.htm

 

 


Zbigniew Mir (Poland): You can arrive by ferry or by plane

 

 Można tu przybyć promem albo samolotem,

w Lover Swansea Valley już nie dobywa się miedzi.

Za to w jachtowym porcie, niedaleko od brzegu

łagodnie łabędzie sfruną, aby pozdrowić gości.

Na ławce odpoczywa tu urodzony poeta,

Jednak poderwie się może, ażeby się przywitać?

Powiem wtedy „Wiesz Dylan!

Wiersza Ci nie przeczytam,

on nie jest w Twoim stylu.

Podzielam zachwyt nad przyrodą Walii,

lubię słuchać starych legend ale przybyłem tutaj

tylko dla Ciebie!”.

To dziwne, jesteś młodszy ode mnie.

Nigdy się nie zestarzejesz, nie tylko to Ci się udało.

Wspólnie możemy słuchać ptasich śpiewów,

obserwować loty: kosów, siewek i czajek,

fruwające nad morzem mewy, także te na fasadzie

Twojego muzeum. Wstąpić do Mlecznego Lasu.

Wody Tâf wzrokiem śledzić, gdy jej fale

znikają w oddali.

 

You can arrive by ferry or by plane,

they no longer mine copper in Lover Swansea Valley.

When we stroll on the banks in the yacht port,

swans came gently to greet the guests.

A here-born poet is resting on the bench,

perhaps he will rise, to say Hello?

I will say then “You know Dylan!

I won't read my poem to you,

‘cause it’s not your style.

I share your admiration for the nature of Wales,

I like to listen to old legends, but I came here

just for you!”.

It's strange, you are younger than me.

You will never grow old, not only in this you succeeded.

Together, we can listen to birds’ songs,

watch flights of blackbirds, gray plovers and lapwings,

seagulls fluttering above the sea and on the front

of your Museum. Visit the Milk Woods.

We can follow the waters of Tâf River,

as its waves disappear in the distance. 

 

 

ZBIGNIEW MIROSLAWSKI

 

 

 

 Zbigniew Mirosławski (Poland). Poet and historian, member of The Polish Authors' Association.  Author of 13  volumes of poetry.

His works are translated in different languages.  Award winning poet.

https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zbigniew_Miroslawski

 


Carolyn MARY Kleefeld (USA): In the midst of mystery (for dylan thomas)

IN THE MIDST OF MYSTERY

(for Dylan Thomas)

 

Sequins, strawberries,

    the cracked moon . . .    

 

Bowing to the worms

behind the masks,

                         I watch as skulls drift                            

on a silvery path

going nowhere.

 

The darkened, mute forest

tunnels my soul’s cries.

 

Listening to that

which is of no man,

I climb the chords

of your flute’s song.

 

Your passion’s music

guides me with invisible hand

to a choir of pale angels

on their knees.

 

From there we travel 

the infinite spirit of things

to the edge of all melody.

 

Then dangling over the abyss,

beholding endless horizons,

we are swept

by a crimson wind,

                back to the origins                 

of all lovers and demons.

                                                                                               

There we pause,

in the midst of mystery . . .

 

 Copyright 2020 by CAROLYN MARY KLEEFELD

 

Carolyn Mary Kleefeld (Big Sur, California.)  Artist, poet, and prose-writer Carolyn Mary Kleefeld studied art and psychology at UCLA and is the author of twenty books. Her writing has been translated into over 15 languages. Three of her books are available in bilingual and trilingual editions and her books have been used at universities and healing centers internationally. Her art appears worldwide in galleries, museums, and private collections.

www.carolynmarykleefeld.com www.alchemyoracle.com

 

 


Franco G. Ferrero (Italy): Profezia

 

 

Profezia

 

E non avremo più i denti

Per mordere la vita

E strapparla via (da noi).

Non avremo più amici

Se mai ne abbiamo avuti

E sarà a secco la benzina

E l’auto sequestrata

Dalla polizia di stato.

Ci mancherà quel film

Incollato al finestrino

E i neon-strie di luce

Nella notte asfaltata.

Sparito quel potere

Del girarsi e fare

Dell’andare,

non importa dove.

E le cravatte

Si sfilacceranno tristi

Stese ai fili spinati,

parleremo come pazze galline

e nessuno capirà.

Solo tra di noi

Una tantum

Un poco di luce

Un ponte che si allunga

E si rafforza

Nell’arco che si torce

Non vedremo più l’azzurro

Se non sfocato grigio

E rideranno di noi

Per non avere paura.

Ma conserveremo il ghigno

Del nervo spelato

E l’illuminazione inutile

E un brillio dell’occhio

                                                                                         Che dice ciò che tace.

 

FRANCO G. FERRERO

 

Franco G. Ferrero vive e lavora in Canavese, in provincia di Torino.  Giornalista, per alcuni decenni operatore culturale e teatrale, oggi opera prevalentemente come consulente della Pubblica amministrazione. Ha pubblicato numerosi saggi, un racconto e le raccolte di poesie Il tarlo (1982) e Ianuae (1988) oltre a svariati testi poetici su riviste italiane e internazionali. Ha organizzato, partecipato e condotto reading ed eventi dedicati alla poesia. https://www.ibs.it/libri/autori/Franco%20G.%20Ferrero


Mario Rondi (Italy): Finale

FINALE

 (per Dylan Thomas)

 

Patetico questo lento morire

dell’ardore nella sera che cancella

la luce col nostalgico frinire

di parole consunte con la stella

che si spegne di colpo per lenire

l’agonia di carezze nella bella

finale di partita con il botto

che non lascia più nessun rimbrotto.

 

 

MARIO RONDI

 

 

 

Mario Rondi.  Vive a Vertova (Bg).  Autore di molte raccolte di poesie e di libri di racconti, oltre a due romanzi, l’ultimo nel 2019 “Due passi all’inferno, con un occhio al paradiso” (Fermenti edizioni).

 http://www.genesi.org/autore-mario-rondi-5858.html

 


Patrizia Valpiani (Italy): Vento e Tempesta

VENTO E TEMPESTA

 

Più del sole amo

il  vento e la tempesta.

Umani.

Rudi e forti.

mi bagnano

mi avvolgono

attanagliano

e scompaiono

per poi tornare

nel mistero del mare.

A inzuppare la pelle,

a librarsi, a volare.

 

 

Febbraio 2020. @PATRIZIA VALPIANI

 

 

 

Patrizia Valpiani, medico, è nata a Pietrasanta, vive e lavora a Torino dal 1980. Da sempre coltiva la grande passione per la poesia e la letteratura, i suoi libri hanno avuto numerosi riconoscimenti a carattere nazionale. Dal 2015 è presidente dell’Associazione Medici Scrittori Italiani.  https://www.toscanatoday.it/author/patrizia-valpiani/


Nadia loiaconi (italy): i viali alberati

I VIALI ALBERATI

 

Lo sguardo si perde

sui riverberi affollati

da foglie rinate.

 

I piedi schivano

rizomi avviluppati

in tortuosi amplessi.

 

Un usignolo veste i sensi

di rinnovate emozioni svolazzanti,

lì dove i boccioli cullano

i cuori sfogliati degli amanti!

 

 

NADIA LOIACONI

 

 

Nadia Loiaconi è nata a Torino, laureata in Economia e Commercio. Docente di Economia e imprenditrice. Esperta di analisi economiche e sociali, è autrice di diverse opere letterarie e poetiche, presenti al Salone Internazionale del Libro di Torino. Socia del Circolo degli Artisti di Torino ha collaborato con diverse Case Editrici, tra cui Edizioni Accademiche Italiane, Aletti Editore, I Libri della Nostra Terra, Lo Spettatore Libri. Al VII Concorso CET con Presidente di Giuria l’autore Mogol è stata insignita con il Diploma di Merito.

https://it-it.facebook.com/nadia.loiaconi


Mysti S. Milwee (USA): Remembering dylan

Remembering Dylan

 

(Inspired by the life of Dylan Thomas)

 

Across the seas,

into the starry night, where light breaks free

where no sun shines -

lived, a drunken, roistering and doomed

welsh poet, yet famous for how

the “play of voices” became an interlude

of imagery and poetic tune;

his eyes longed to see, how death shall have

no dominion, written in the lines of age of

wisdom, life, love, and war;

fabricated lines of vision and voice -

obscured, unfashionable and preconceived symbolism

woven in self-contradictory images;

scurrying through lines, and in the white giants thigh;

oh, how high the hills bulge with internal rhythm and rhyme -

notated for musicality, that reflected quite early one morning

under milk wood.

He walked through life, and the three nights' blitz that sparked

plays and scripts, broadcasts and ambitious pieces -

with a holy spring and visions of prayer;

the son of the sea, forever parted from earth to heaven,

remembered by his voice of words and vision.

 

MYSTY S. MILWEE

 

 

 Mysti S. Milwee (Southside, AL USA)

She is an International award-winning and published synesthesia artist, poet, screenwriter, and writer.

Her art and literary works have been published and appeared in over 1,000 publications and in over 8 countries across the globe. She serves as an International Art Ambassador for international art relations. 

www.mystismilwee.wordpress.com


Gabriella Mercuri (ITALY): POETA

 POETA

 

Scrivesti un giorno

di sole e di vento

parole posate

sui silenzi della notte

mentre volgeva il capo

al crepitio dell'alba

Scrivesti parole un giorno

Scivolavano su umori

di cielo e di mare

erano schegge di primaverili memorie

Scrivesti un giorno

semi di parole ora radici

che abbracciano il tempo

son luce mescolanze di cielo

di ombra e sole

correnti di maree e risacca

lasciano scie nel giorno

che ora esplode tra lacrime di neve

su volti dove si arresta il ricordo.

 

GABRIELLA MERCURI

 

Mercuri Gabriella nata a Taviano (Lecce) vive a Torino. Appassionata della parola bella scrive libri di poesie molte di esse inserite in antologie poetiche, collabora con associazioni letterarie nella presentazione di incontri di Poesia. Membro di giuria in premi letterari. Vincitrice di premi di poesia .

http://www.poetipoesia.com/gabriella-mercuri/

 


helen bar-lev (israel): orbiting

Orbiting

(to Dylan Thomas)

 

I orbit around this earth

trying not to disturb

I listen to the dove’s coo

the sparrow’s chirp

 

I worship the purple iris

observe the lily unfurl

see jackal and hyrax

in the bosom of their forest

 

Touch the blossom of the almond

and the cherry tree

implore the world to take

no heed of me

 

Let me flow with dignity

I implore let there be

no more pain

no more surgery 

 

Evenings I shower off 

the day’s regrets

beg to navigate silently

to trespass in a whisper

 

To orbit the planet in peace

until I snuggle up with the stars

and disappear forever

to a kinder space

 

© HELEN BAR-LEV

 

Bar-Lev, Helen (Israël)  was born  New York in 1942. She holds a BA in Anthropology, has lived in Israel for 49 years and has held over 100 exhibitions of her landscape paintings. She has six poetry collections all illustrated by herself. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2013 and received the 2016 European Homer Medal of Poetry and Art. She is Overseas Coordinator for Voices Israel Group of Poets. http://www.helenbarlev.com 

 


Maristella Angeli (italy): Sconfiggo la morte

Sconfiggo la morte

 

Impavida è la morte

giunge improvvisa

recide il fiore sbocciato

avanza l’oscura figura

l’arsura mi secca la gola

gocciano gocce di sudore

sulla mia fronte gelida

nascondo il pensiero

schernisco il tempo mio breve

fingo la resa

mi scuoto e dibatto

un urlo squarcia il silenzio

di versi irroro la stanza

raggio di luce filtra dai vetri

in dissolvenza visioni spettrali

gioisco alla vittoria

 

I defeat death

 

Death is fearless

It comes suddenly

It severs the blossomed flower

the dark figure approaches

thirst dries my mouth

drops of sweat drop

upon my chilly forehead

I hide my thought

I mock this short time of mine

I feign surrender

I stir and struggle

a scream rends the silence

I fill the room with verse

ray of light filters through the glass

ghostly visions fade

 I rejoice in victory

 

 

MARISTELLA ANGELI

 

Angeli, Maristella (Italy)

Maristella Angeli is a poetess, fantasy writer and painter who has always felt the need to express herself

in different artistic forms. She has published ten poetic collections, two fantasy novels,

and has exhibited her paintings in personal, collective and international events.

http://www.premioceleste.it/maristella..angeli


Giovanni Cordero (italy): Tempo di vivere

TEMPO DI VIVERE

 

Nel buio della notte sprofondato in un abisso segreto

ho desiderato riposare fra braccia sconosciute.

Ho affidato il mio cuore,

nel nero silenzio di un bosco incantato,

a ombre furtive avvolgenti e ansimanti.

Mani sapienti han frugato la mia anima

e rapito il mio cuore.

Stordito da un vortice opaco e sordo

ho ridipinto la mia vita con colori di zolfo.

Lo sguardo ancora stupito da tanto ardire

ho posato teneramente sul tuo viso

ma i tuoi occhi sbarre serrate come le  labbra.

Ho lacerato il silenzio, ho sussurrato

parole banali e inutili.

La terra odorosa e la resina dei pini

han confuso la mia mente : è tempo di giocare

il proprio cuore e di perderlo.

E’ tempo di vivere e di rischiare.

Non è tempo di pensare,

 tace la paura e la luna sorride.

 

GIOVANNI CORDERO

 

 

Giovanni Cordero

Ha svolto attività di ricerca e docenza presso l’Università “La Sapienza” di Roma, l’Università di Torino, l’Accademia delle Belle Arti di Cuneo ed è stato Direttore dell’Accademia di Belle Arti di Sanremo. Ha pubblicato i romanzi: “Silenzi. Il destino alle 18”. Editrice Psiche, Torino. “L’Albergo dei gatti”. Editore Albatros, Roma.  “L'impronta di cioccolato”. Emersioni Castelvecchi, Roma. Iscritto all’ Ordine dei giornalisti e degli psicologi.

https://www.amazon.com/-/es/Giovanni-Cordero/dp/8831924532


neal whitman: This I understand

This I Understand

 

Walking along the coastal path,

two half-brothers introduce me

to the poetry of Wales.

Evan recites Cynghanedd,

Welsh verse of harmonic sounds

using stress, alliteration and rhyme.

“You won’t understand it, you understand.”

I don’t, but I do.

Its mystery washes over me.

It’s Waldo’s turn now.

“As was his Swansea, Dylan was ugly, but lovely.

A lovely poet, yes?”

Evan denounces the lout.

“You be be judge,” both rejoin.

Waldo breathes deep and begins

in lyrical English:

                                     My ark sings in the sun …

 

NEAL WHITMAN

 

 

Neal Whitman is a poet who aims to write for The Common Reader, of which he considers himself with pride a member. He lives on the Monterey Peninsula between San Francisco to the north and Big Sur to the South. He and his wife, Elaine, walk along the coastal path – he in search of words to bring home, like ocean-smoothed stones collected from the beach, and she looks for images to rise from the tides to inspire her photography.   https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/neal-whitman-56d206b54940a


Harley White (SPAIN / USA):  The sea and I

                                THE  SEA  AND  I

                                                                                                  

                                                                                                            

  Once  I  was  sand  dab small

                       urchin  of  the  tides

                                                shrieking  with  the  gulls

                                       on  my  blanket  of  sand

                            and  head  high  as  the  waves

               I  was  playmate  to  the sea

                                         One  and  one  were  we

                                                              under  the  clouds  of  foam  . . .

                                                  Sand  crabs  tickled  my  toddles

                            The  conch  sang  hushabies  of  the  surf

                                        The  horses  of  the  sea

                                                           whinnied  the  tunes

                                                                of my periwinkle dreams  . . . . . .

 

                                                   Who  sells  cockles  for  my  suckle?

                                                     Who  can  cuddle  stars  to  sleep?

                               What  Sandman  rock-a-byes  yesternight’s  cradle?

 

All  the  sun  long  day

                         I  melted  from  green  to  gold

                                                 holding  the  hand  of  the  sea

                                     for  only  a  rainbow  long 

                              and  gathering  handfuls  of  mist

              I  was  Captain  of  the  tides  . . .

                                        Dolphins  dipped  to  my  horn

                                                          The  turrets  of  my  castles

                                  trembled  the  wind

                        The  shrill  of  my  whistle

                                             shivered  the  still

                                                                    of  the  serpent’s  lair  . . . . . .

 

                                                    Who  can  ride  the  ebbless  tide?

                                               Who  can  borrow  wings  from  the  wind?

                               What  Sandman  can  cool  the  burn  of  my  yearnings?

 

Each  stolen  night  and  day

                    I         streaming  down  the  shore

                                                    danced  the  fire  dance

                                        in  the  tongues

                                                           of  the  leaping  waves

                                   Neptune  strong

                      Colossus  high

        I  strode  the  shallow  deep

                               Buccaneer  of  the boundless  main

                                                  Captain  Hook

                                                               of  my  mussel  fleet  . . .

                                      The  peaks  of  my  mountains

                                                        scraped  the  clouds

                       The  crash  of  my  drumbeats

                                             thundered  the  sky

                               The  sting  of  the  salty  spray

                                                         blurred  my  lordly  eyes

 

               Hickory  Dickory  heedlessly

                                            I  waded  the  Gulliver  shore

                                  While  sands  of  the  hourglass  trails

                                                          trickled  forever  by  . . . . . .

 

                                                Who  can  caress  the  foam?

                                                Who  can  touch  nevermore?

                                         What  Sandman  can  dry  the  tears  of  the  sea?

 

 

 ~ Harley White 

 

 

Harley White (Spain / USA)  is a born word-lover.  Some of her literary offerings include all genres of poetry, songs, stories, poems about the cosmos, works based on fairy tales, awakenings, and a book called, The Autobiography of a Granada Cat – As told to Harley White…   http://harleywhite.awardspace.info/


yeşim ağaoğlu (Turkey): sleeping poet

sleeping poet

 

poet sleeping

stretched out on the grass

his hat askew on his brow

poet asleep,his hands on his throat

his house and trees are sleeping too the sun making ready to leave only images are awake now dark blue horses, winged balerinas the violin-bodied man, the harp playing bird woman and the pauper king.

 

now the poet is astride an image horse

the park as wide as can be

and as rich as it gets

the chauteau splendid, the trees giant-sized his hat straight on his brow hands on hips the poet is smiling now

 

 

yeşim ağaoğlu

 

Ağaoğlu, Yeşim (Turkey) Yeşim Ağaoğlu is a poet and artist born in Istanbul. Her poems have appeared in various anthologies, and her published books of poetry have been translated into many languages. She frequently participates in international literary and poetry festivals, as well as gaining recognition internationally as a contemporary artist.

yesimpoetry.blogspot.com

yesimart.blogspot.com 


Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova (Slovaquie - France): La vérité de nos jours

La vérité de nos jours

 

La vérité est difforme.

Elle se reflète dans les mille morceaux

De fenêtres éclatées.

Elle est déformée

Par l'angle des regards,

Arrangée pour satisfaire des lâches,

Raccommodée telle une chaussette favorite

Dont on hésite à se débarrasser.

Une fleur peut se révéler

Être un papillon

Et la silhouette menaçante

Au coin de la rue

Un simple réverbère.

Une pierre serait un scarabée apeuré

Et les paroles tendres

Des piques qui blessent la chair.

La vérité est un jeu de cache-cache,

Une partie de pêche.

Un sens ne portant

Sur ses épaules que

L'humanité de nos prétentions.

 

Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova

 

 Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova est une artiste-poétesse franco-slovaque. Ses livres sont publiés en Slovaquie, en France et en Belgique. Elle participe à plusieurs revues littéraires (Florilège, Ce qui reste, Poésie Première...).

 www.viktoria-lask.net


Lilita Conrieri (Italy): apocalisse ora

 

APOCALISSE ORA

 

Bruciano nella notte

come rami secchi di un albero in fiamme

 corpi anziani e vinti

e la luna d’aprile illumina indifferente

l’apocalisse del tempo nostro

In  questo silenzio innaturale,

 grida la voce del poeta:

“Non andartene docile in quella buona notte

Infuriati, infuriati contro il morire  della luce”

Verranno albe nuove a tingere di luce

 queste eterne notti,

 altre parole a costruire domani 

e nuovi sorrisi a sbocciare

come fiori in primavera

Ma tu che hai visto e sai

non dimenticare  la voce che grida:

“Non andartene docile in questa buona notte

Infuriati, infuriati contro il morire della luce “

 

 

Lilita Conrieri

 

Lilita Conrieri, medico pediatra all’Ospedale OIRM di Torino e curatrice ed organizzatrice di eventi  della Casa Museo Il Meleto di Guido Gozzano ad Agliè Canavese. Ha pubblicato numerosi volumi di prosa e poesie.

Ha ottenuto vari riconoscimenti letterari fra cui il 2 Premio al Concorso Cesare Pavese e il 1 Premio  al Concorso Pannunzio per la poesia inedita. Nel 2016 le è stato , inoltre, assegnato il premio Valdo Fusi per la libertà di pensiero.

 Fa parte della giuria del Premio Letterario Il Meleto di Guido Gozzano.

 https://amicidiguidogozzano.jimdofree.com/


Sylvain NANAD ( CAMEROUN ): OÙ QUE TU SOIS

 

 

 

OÙ QUE TU SOIS

 

Où que tu sois

Tes rêves n'ont plus froid

Tu reposes en paix

Sans pesanteur

Sans peau

Sans âge

Tu reposes

Allumé à jamais

Car sur toi

La mort n'a plus l'avantage

Elle n'a plus de langage

Pour éteindre

Ta lumière

Allumé à jamais

Où que tu sois

Tes rêves n'ont plus froid

Tu reposes en paix

Sur ton sommeil

La mort n'a plus de vacarmes

 

Sylvain Nanad ( CAMEROUN )

 

Sylvain Nanad est comptable de formation. Après quelques pas dans la musique en tant que parolier, slameur et chanteur, il se lance dans l'écriture de la poésie et participe à plusieurs Anthologies de haïkus, Tankas Et poésie contemporaine. '' La fragilité des sens'' et ''NAMI'' sont ses recueils publiés . https://www.facebook.com/sylvainnanad/


Vatsala Radhakeesoon (mauritius): Celebrating Immortality

 

Celebrating Immortality


O talented poet!
O master of words!
Amidst hectic 21st century
of internet dominion
we are still mesmerized by
your sun of direct expression
your daring waves of spontaneity

 

Echoes, echoes
“Do not go gentle into that good night”
all around the globe,
As we swirl, waltz in your world
We can’t help to let a tear
drop in the poetry realm
but soon we comfort ourselves,
pacify your soul
by celebrating what you’ve left in legacy –
the undying fruits of poetic determination
your constant stars of immortality.

Vatsala Radhakeesoon


Vatsala Radhakeesoon  was  born in Mauritius in 1977.  She is the author of 8 poetry books and an experimental abstract artist. Her day job is that of a literary translator. She is also one of the interview editors of the bi-annual online journal, Asian Signature.

https://www.amazon.com/Vatsala-Radhakeesoon/e/B0744JQ3W9%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share


Mokhtar El Amraoui (tunisia): LUMIERES DE TA SOIF

LUMIERES DE TA SOIF

 

                                                                                                                      A la mémoire de Dylan Thomas

 Frêle amant des abysses

Tu n’eus jamais peur de danser

Ni chanter au bord des précipices

Pour recueillir dans le sang de ton encre

Les étoiles blessées

Qui avaient besoin des lumières de  ta soif

Pour libérer leurs ancres

Pour t’offrir leurs verres

Pour leur offrir tes vers

Se riant des dards de Chronos

Et ses voraces horloges

Mariant vos titubantes nuits

En jardins de miroirs

D’où naissaient chaque jour

Les nouveaux visages des fleurs

Loin des leurres peurs et pleurs

En ivres flammes de papillons

Sur les ailes libres des chemins

De cette magique mer du cygne

Chaussé de vent

Avec ton cœur pour boussole de retour

Vers ton intarissable

Inoubliable chant de phénix

Toi l’éternel enfant

 


© Mokhtar El Amraoui Le 1er mai 2020

 

 Mokhtar El Amraoui. C’est un poète d’expression française né à Mateur, en Tunisie. Il a  enseigné la littérature et la civilisation françaises pendant plus de trois décennies, dans diverses villes de la Tunisie. Passionné de Poésie, depuis son enfance, il a publié quatre recueils. Le premier, en 2010, s'intitule "Arpèges sur les ailes de mes ans", le second, en 2014, "Le souffle des ressacs" et les troisième et quatrième en 2019, successivement   « Chante, aube, que dansent tes plumes ! » et « Dans le tumulte du labyrinthe.

https://www.poeticous.com/mokhtar-el-amraoui?locale=fr


Germain Droogenbroodt (belgium/Spain):  IN THIS SPRINg

In this spring

 

“Here in this spring, stars float along the void”
                         Dylan Thomas

 

Is this the ornamental spring
with blossoms on the trees
and promises of colourful flowers
a pleasure for the poet’s eye?

Or is it autumn, announcing winter
with withering flowers
and unripe fruits falling
to the ground?

Birds are joyfully singing,
but the bells are tolling,
for many a new summer,
will come no more.

 

Germain Droogenbroodt, 2020

 

 

 

Germain Droogenbroodt is an internationally appreciated poet, translator, publisher and promoter of modern international poetry. As founder and editor of POINT Editions (POetry INTernational) he has published more than eighty collections of mainly modern, international poetry.

Germain Droogenbroodt organised and co-organised several international poetry festivals in Spain.  http://www.alittlepoetry.com/droogen.html


Val smit (south Africa): the rise and fall of hydref

The Rise and Fall of Hydref

 

The hiss and rustle of the leaves

on gently swaying trees

like the sigh of a vast creature

 

The smell of fresh morning dew

on moistened soil and rolling mist

embracing only few

 

Soon warm rain will fall in sheets,

spattering and steaming

washing away the now usual, miasma

 

Her last beams caught in sheets of rain

forming split-second works of art

in torrential sky

 

Unseen, undisturbed, 

Hydref will be snuffed like a candle

to once again be surrounded

by gentle echoes of her own breathing

 

 

VaL Smit ©

 

 

 

VaL Smit is a South African artist based in Cape Town. She writes ekphrastic poetry per artwork created. She uses various media in portraying images that she feels fitting to deliver the message of the words she pens down.

https://www.facebook.com/valsmitart/


Akhmad Cahyo Setio (indonesia): Puisi Untuk Dylan Thomas - Poem for dylan thomas

Puisi Untuk Dylan Thomas

 

Sajak kelahiranmu begitu diam membisu

Tak dilihat oleh dewi keberuntungan

Kau hidup bagai menyendiri di tengah keramaian

Sungguh hanya berteman dengan kesederhanaan

 

Kau lahir dari seorang guru dan sastra yang andal

Sedari kecil kau sudah mengenal apa itu puisi

Bahkan sebelum kau bisa membaca

 

Kau adalah sosok penyuara yang modernisasi sekaligus Neo-romanticism

Dari ketertinggalan pengetahuan

Sungguh memang romantis dirimu

 

Sosokmu bagai dia yang rela mati demi dombanya

Bahkan kau rela pergi dari kampung halamanmu

Demi melantangkan suaramu

Hingga aku mengenangmu sampai batas usiamu

 

Semoga tuhan menyayangimu dalam pelukannya

 

 

Akhmad Cahyo Setio is a literary activist of Tanah Bumbu Indonesia. He participated in various literary activities locally and internationally. His poems are included in local and international Poems Anthologies such as, Amaravati Poem Prism 2018 and 2019 India,  “Just Love Me” in Nepal India 2019, in International Malays festival Singapore 2018, International Poems  Anthology of Palestine solidarity, in Malaysia 2018, World Healing World Peace in USA, in Azahar Revista Poetica vol.104 Spain.

https://akhmadcahyosetio.blogspot.com/


William Zhou (china): Tribute to Dylan Thomas

 致敬迪兰·托马斯

               

童年时你迷恋自然的声音

沉醉于人们说话的声音

你活在美酒、梦幻和死亡的词语里

你仰观死亡的星光

舞蹈在你的思绪中

 

你喜欢用爱情和词语快乐地燃烧

因此死于18杯威士忌

然后飞出生命的甜蜜痛苦

 

我来到地球时你早已飞走

你永远活在你迷梦般的诗歌中

我只能在你的诗歌中拥抱你的灵魂

而把月亮作为一朵圣洁的花

敬献给你那浪漫又疯狂的心灵

 

WILLIAM ZHOU (China)

     

 Tribute to Dylan Thomas

 

    You enjoyed the sound of nature in childhood,

Got drunk in the sound of people's words

You lived in words of wine, dreams and death

Watched at the starlight of death,

Dancing in your thoughts.

 

You liked burning happily with loves and words

So you died in the 18 cups of whisky

and then flew out of the sweet pain of life

 

When I came to the earth, you had flown away

You are living in your dreamy poetry forever

I can only embrace your soul in your poems,

And take the moon as a holy flower

 

to tribute your romantic and crazy mind.

 

 

WILLIAM ZHOU (China): Published Chinese, English and translated works in literary journals at home and abroad. He has won three National Poetry awards and three international poetry awards. His poems have been translated and published in eight foreign languages. He is now a life member of the World Poet Congress, a member of the Chinese Poetry Society.  

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2020/05/william-zhou.html


daniela feltrinelli (italy): tutto merita un canto

Tutto merita un canto…

 - a Dylan Thomas -

 

Tutto là fuori merita un canto…

dai lecci antichi si levano ombre 

e sul sentiero avanzano passi

il mare si gonfia e si colora di schiuma..

 

Tutto intanto merita un canto...

 

Il piombo scuro dilaga nel cielo

ma piove oro da squarci d’argento

Specchi di luce cavalcano onde

e nel vento suoni e profumi e canti antichi…

 

mentre tutto ancora merita un canto!

 

La roccia ferma e la terra che frana

i fiori tutti e i loro steli

l’esplosa ginestra nel sole

e il papavero umile e fiero

l’iris diritto sul ciglio del fosso…

 

Tutto allora merita un canto!

 

Il tronco crollato, il muschio dei sassi

la calda pietra che ci accompagna

le case strette ed i muri vicini

e le vigne basse nella terra sdraiate...

 

Il tuo dolce sorriso col mio respiro

ed il canto terrestre delle ere perdute

e l’urlo muto di chi è già caduto

e il lamento di chi ci lascia…

 

Fiori bianchi per la strada in silenzio

la saggezza muta dei nostri anziani

la vita di ognuno e la morte di chiunque altro.

 

Tutto, tutto davvero merita un canto!

 

Daniela Feltrinelli

 

Daniela Feltrinelli è nata a La Spezia  dove vive e lavora.

A Maggio 2018 ha pubblicato il libro di poesie Isole vicine, Agorà&co, dedicato al paesaggio marino del Golfo dei Poeti, nel 2020 pubblica L'Incanto dell’onda. Partecipa assiduamente a concorsi letterari e reading di poesia.

https://www.unilibro.it/libri/f/autore/feltrinelli_daniela


donatella nardin (italy): è  questa l'ora

E’ questa l’ora

 

a Dylan Thomas

 

La tua mano mi rassicura:

è questa l’ora di tornare alla luce

con un po’ di sole

strizzato tra le dita

e fuori immemore

la primavera, nuova e invissuta

ma determinata ad offrire parole

alla bellezza luminosa

del verde, alle sue mani 

colme di tante speranze

in questo dirci e darci ancora,

oltre l’affanno

 

 

oltre l’inevitabile pena.

 

Donatella Nardin

 

 Donatella Nardin is a multi awarded poet. She was born and lives in Cavallino Treporti -Venice. For Edizioni Il Fiorino, she published In attesa di cielo and Le ragioni dell'oro,  for Fara Editore Terre d'acqua e Rosa del battito. Many of her lyrics and some of her stories are published in poetry collections, literary magazine and websites.

https://www.facebook.com/donatella.nardin.3


Annelisa Addolorato (italy): dedicato a dylan thomas

 

Dedicado a Dylan Thomas

 

Santo ThomasNuevo horizonte

 

Toma la sal de tu intelecto, piérdete en el tu inteligencia,

no el la mar alcohólica u en píldoras

 del olvido.

El cuello y tus ojos radiantes. Eso permanece, con tus buenas intenciones,

que dejaste dobladas entre tus líneas

Cuídate.

Hay un oceano también en el recuerdo de tus palabras llanas.

Con olas sin desperdicios, colores sin cohartadas.

Tienes que verlo, esto: hijos sonrientes a la escucha,

y nietas que leen tu manta de palabras y se

enroscan en su mantra,

construyendo, atentas, nuevos caminos hacia la luz.

Y se acuerdan. De ti. De tu dulzura,  aunque la escondida.

No te agarres a las garras ajenas, entre las sombras.

Escucha el viento, que lleva tu voz en nuevas hojas.

Tus hijos poéticos van a cultivar nuevos trigos, tanto en el campo cómo

en las bibliotecas,

van a comer un pan doble:

- comida, conocimiento - que piensan repartir, regando

la tierra con esperanza.

“En el mundo de los espíritus buenos no hay noche y día, solamente hay existe día”.

En este universo luminoso te dibujo con la calma de hoy.

 

Annelisa Addolorato

 

 

 

Annelisa Addolorato. Poet. She’s Italian, thinks and writes in Spanish and English. Loves Kung Fu. Has a degree in Philosophy - Aesthetics (Milan) and a Phd in Spanish Literature (Madrid), both on contemporary Poetry. Her Audiobooks LA FORMA DELLA TIGRE are on-line.  https://www.facebook.com/laformadellatigre


don beukes (south africa): a morning song for dylan thomas

A Morning Song for Dylan Thomas

 

 

As the sun turns in circles of

radiating brilliance casting its energy

into your brittle heart, You allow

yourself to bask in chards of paused

despair – Owning your daily destiny

finding an embracing permeating symphony –

Your emotions leaking endlessly into

the swelling cavities of Swansea.

 

As the moon receives a blush from the

rising sun, Your nightly inner rage is

captured by a morning chorus of activity

in hidden hedges of beauty where songs

are sung secretly in honour of your lexical

artistry – Your poetic mastery seeping into

our chemistry breaking our chains of stagnation

in a revelatory necessary sensation caused

by your inherited literary orchestration.

 

 

As the roots of trees anchor ever deeper into the

belly of the soil, so your legacy attaches itself

to the sinews of our hearts – Your tears water

our blue fears. Your insecurity humbles our

stubborn fragility causing a cacophony of

emotions urging us to rise from our obscurity

 

to enable us to proudly forge our own legacy

in order to prevent untouched fantasies...

 

As the lips of time utter stories yet to be told or

urging us to be bold to carve out our intended

destiny – Your echoing voice reach us over a

bridge of stars, igniting our desperate hearts –

Telling us to be victorious in battling the crooked

rose or stirring the quicksand of time to immortalise

timeless words of comfort and courage in the

catacombs of your shared knowledge.

 

You are sun.

You are moon.

You are roots.

You are the lips of time.

You are knowledge.

You are Dylan...

 

 

© Don Beukes

 

 

 

 

Don Beukes is a South African and British author of 'The Salamander Chronicles’, 'Icarus Rising-Volume 1’ and 'In Pursuit of Poetic Perfection’. His forthcoming book, 'Sic Transit Gloria Mundi’ is due to be published by Concrete Mist Press. He is originally from Cape Town and has a Pushcart nominee for Poetry.  https://donbeukes.wordpress.com/

 

 


Tzemin Ition Tsai  (蔡澤民) (taiwan): 若妳還想讀我的詩- 謹向迪蘭·湯瑪斯致敬

〈若妳還想讀我的詩〉

 

 

  [謹向迪蘭·湯瑪斯致敬]

 

闔上眼

若妳還想讀我的詩

詩中沒有淚,只有輕得不能再輕的風

吹不乾妳臉上的痕

 

握緊手

若妳還想讀我的詩

詩中沒有哀求,只有輕得不能再輕的歌調

按壓不住妳胸口的起伏

 

冩歌千行,緣酒一杯

允妳慷慨捐我兩行淚

阡陌樹花無窮,無一願眷顧別離

兩行淚買下此情,我的詩霜花摇落

足斷三日春風

 

張開妳的眼吧,若妳已不想讀我的詩

詩中沒有淚,只有輕得不能再輕的風

詩中沒有哀求,只有輕得不能再輕的歌調

莫讓,淚痕侵臉

莫讓,擾擾凡情胸中起伏

不用理會詩中的風

 

不用理會詩中的歌調

 

蔡澤民博士

 

 

 

Tsai, Tzemin Ition (Taiwan) Dr. Tzemin Ition Tsai (蔡澤民博士) is from Taiwan, Republic of China. He is a professor at Asia University (Taiwan). His literary works have been published in anthologies, books, journals, and newspapers in more than 40 countries. https://www.facebook.com/tzemintsai

 


Sheikha A. (Pakistan / United Arab Emirates): Merkabah: Scale Form

Merkabah: Scale Form

 

of the mother hidden 

and the shadowed head of pain

casting to-morrow like a thorn

Now I am lost in the blinding 

One. The sun roars at the prayer’s end

-  Vision and Prayer by Dylan Thomas 



and after Woman Holding a Balance, painting by Johannes Vermeer



You notice the clever levels

of framing, but don't notice

the hope she carries in her

 

belly. She has turned brass

amid the array of luxuries

she has shed to a finer dull

 

just so no one can take it 

from her. Those pearls ate

tongues before being cut

 

out of tight-lipped mouths;

the royal robe she drafted 

from a sense of poverty

 

she may have watched in 

faces of meditating seers, 

the hunger for ascension 

 

against lack of levitation. 

Her scales are drawn with 

cunning - the air has been 

 

sketched to stay the string 

from swaying. You see her 

balancing visible phantoms 

 

creeping over her neck 

from where her back is

turned. She mastered 

 

the shape of her hands 

from keeping them out 

of people's hearts, blue 

 

sheen of thick slippery veins;

The calling heavy and luminous, 

 

her face a sheet of ashen smear. 

 

 Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her works appear in a variety of literary venues, both print and online, including several anthologies by different presses. Recent publications have been Strange Horizons, Pedestal Magazine, Atlantean Publishing, Alban Lake Publishing, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been translated into Spanish, Greek, Albanian, Italian, Arabic and Persian. She is the co-author of a digital poetry chapbook entitled Nyctophiliac Confessions available through Praxis Magazine. More about her published works can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com


rebecca lowe (UK): DYLAN

 

DYLAN

 

He always had an inkling for the sea,

That moondrift child with the seaweed curls,

His laughter melted seafoam,

Scooping up in shovels, the dwindling dregs

Patted into proud battlements,

Watched as the water slowly inundated

Crumbling moats and crooked towers,

To sink beneath the ever-growing storm.

 

His first kisses were at this quayside,

Soft, like wet sand, he took her

Mermaid hand in his; she shrank back,

Eyes wide as a seal's, afraid of

The coming tide. They lobbed pebbles

Ferociously at waiting rocks, placed

Seashells to ears, listened

To hear the flowing voices

Of Sirens, in the tide's

Ebb and fall.

 

And, in his later years,

Landlocked, would peer

Into the lulling froth of beer

And imagine mermaids

Pulling him back in again

To the dark and creamy depths...

 

….Caught out by Rhossili tides

They awaken from the belly of the Worm

To a Wonderland of giant bluebells,

Reflected across the gaping yawn of the bay

To distant shores and bobbing pygmy boats,

And feel themselves explorers

In a strange, exotic land...

 

Somewhere in a dim hotel,

He's a rocking boat,

All adrift;

She flashes him a fish-hook smile,

Reels him in, gills flapping,

But at his embrace, dissolves

Into bubbles,

Her laughter reverberates

Across the waters.

 

Rebecca Lowe

 

 

 

 

Rebecca Lowe is a performance poet and organiser of Talisman Spoken Word. She lives just around the corner from Dylan’s Cwmdonkin Park in Swansea. ‘Dylan’ is taken from her forthcoming collection ‘Blood and Water’, due to be published by The Seventh Quarry Press in November. She can be found on https://twitter.com/BeckyLowePoet


Caroline nazareno a.k.a. ceri naz (Philippines): poetry bridegroom

 

Poetry Bridegroom

 

 

i fall in love with words

from cosmic battles

 

 

framed in constant harmony,

 

i am a new cosmos

 

detaching

 

from the verbatim leaps

 

of rules,

 

from the old universe.

 

 

 

i am the lightworker

 

synchronizing

 

the infinite

 

and the definite,

 

from the battlefield

 

of eclipsed

 

 

 

rhythmic patterns,

down the alleys

 of milk and honey.

 

 

 

Ceri Naz

 

Nazareno, Caroline (Philippines) Caroline Nazareno-Gabis a.k.a. Ceri Naz, known as a poet of peace and friendship. She won several International Prizes including ‘’The Amazing Poet Award 2015’’ by Writers International Network Society-Canada; The Frang Bardhi Literary Prize 2014 (Albania); the sair-gazeteci or Poet Journalist Award 2014 (Tuzla, Istanbul, Turkey) and World Poetry Empowered Poet 2013 (Vancouver, Canada) https://apwriters.org/author/ceri_naz/

Vittorio Venuti (Italy): poesia per dylan thomas

 

 

 

Da qui a qui e da ora a ora.

Non altro spazio o tempo

per questo andare.

 

Ciascuno è fragore di gemma

che rompe il tronco

 nel cuore dell’Universo

 

 

Vittorio Venuti

Psicologo e psicoterapeuta – Pittore e scrittore-  Autore di numerosi libri di narrativa e saggistica. Interessato alla mail art, ha organizzato eventi in Sicilia e in Piemonte. Sue opere si trovano in collezioni private in Italia e all’estero.

 www.ilcamminodorato.it


Juliet  Preston (U.S.A.):  even when no star

Even when there is no star -

Stars are hidden,

moonlight maybe shunned from shining.

Just when hope seems lost,

the words of Dylan Thomas shine like a beacon.

The spirit of such "do not go gentle into that good night"

Waves of ocean awaken turning darkness into neon blue.

Spirit of Dylan shines

like the neon blue light even when there is no star.

 

© Juliet Preston

May 14, 2020

 

 

#CelebrateDylanThomas

 

 

 

Preston, Juliet (U.S.A.) Juliet Preston is an artist by passion, a poet by heart, and an engineer by profession   //www.facebook.com/juliet.preston.7

 

 

 


sergio camEllini (italy): Dylan, poesia dell'essere

 

 

Dylan, poesia dell’essere

 

Dylan Thomas,

la tua poesia

è levitazione dell’animo;

fornisce forza vitale,

si colloca

al più alto grado

di spiritualità.

 

Va al di sopra

della normalità,

è vortice inebriante

nell’immaginario,

suggestione culturale

dipinta

che mai finirà.

 

E’ palpitante emozione;

ricongiunge il soma

all’io lirico

tra aromi selvatici,

espressione dell’essere

amore

per l’umanità.

 

 

Sergio Camellini

 

Sergio Camellini, nato a Sassuolo (Modena), è psicologo, studioso di arte povera della civiltà contadina e dei mestieri e poeta; ha scritto un libro sul linguaggio del corpo, un’opera omnia e dodici libri di poesie. Canta le piccole gioie, le fatiche del quotidiano, la natura, l’amore, i ricordi che portano a riflessioni sull'esistenza umana. Il suo dire esprime grande sensibilità e dolcezza, quindi, scivola ad inseguire versi ricchi di accelerazioni emotive. Ha conseguito diversi riconoscimenti sia in Italia che all'estero.

 http://autori.poetipoesia.com/sergio-camellini/