Thursday, June 1, 2023

BARBARA DI SACCO

 


Prayer

 

I prayed

blowing

in a harmonica

for it to be music

in light propagation.

Both a feather

that sails in the air

and in the trees, he rests.

Today my feet

they won’t touch the ground.

I have a secret dimension

where they await

sound, messages.

How high

the purity

of the clear skies?

I don’t know

the dept of the abyss

of nighttime anguish

or where the void ends

or how much you weight every sight

every bad word.

Blinding solar thrill

torpor of mist confounds

getting lost in smoke clouds.

Hammock, warm belly

welcome me

calm my question

and calls for sleep

virtue of the mystery.

 

Letter To A Woman

 

Woman

blossomed like a flower

by childish dreams.

Spirit and work

wonderful.

Rich branch

of buds.

Song and music

are you words

gracefully

move on

in a daily dance.

Have you tried the many

 

forms of love

to find the eternal

and you learned

to love you.

Mirrors you

in the stones

with many facets.

Like a flower you bend to the wind

and then lie down

towards a ray of sunshine.

Rest in the moonlight

looking for advice.

Give the soul

with poetry

and infinitely love.

 

Promise

 

Dried fruits

hung by curved branches

now, of leaves, lost

lose weight

ben to the ground

in collecting the precious seed

nourishment of virtue

to feed its principles.

Widowed humanity

meager and sad

empty chest

awaits

awaken of gems.

Sigh while waiting

new life

in renewing the promise of respect.

If i twill be grace

remember serious defect

be grateful in swearing

apologizing in repentance.

But short is memory

and labored over time.

Elysium

hide in you

of life the secret.

With our heavy leave

leave it to you

mother

our children

new leaves and new fruits.

 

BARBARA DI SACCO

 

BARBARA DI SACCO: Italian poet, born in Tuscany in 1964. Barbara composes verses inspired by simple things, by nature, deep feelings and her own impressions. Respecting the environment and human rights. She defines herself as a painter of poetry her pen is a brush that colors beauty and freedom.

 

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