Monday, April 1, 2024



It's Me


I am the muse of disaffection,

the one who inspires distance,

the one the case bestows and

the one who collects the shots of life.

It's me

I am the queen of the abandonment.

I'm the crazy eating hallucinations

the Medusa that petrifies you

when my eyes read yours.

It's me.

I am Amelia who bewitches

and then she remains alone,

if the little match girl who is in her

has the last word,

It's me.

I'm the rock on which the moss grows,

I offer treasures to the forty thieves ...

from the murky waters I rise proudly ...

I lost my wishes lamp.


The Cliff


Drops of frost

at the edge of the heart

ruffle the ivy

and they shine in the sun.

New sap

brings the morning

and stir up anxieties

of insomnia.

The day summons me on

with bare hands ...

and I hit rock bottom

I climb roughly

to hope

to go up the cliff.


The Wings Of Icarus


Oh you who dared

to challenge human nature,

thanks to the presumption of glory,

you were the first executioner of yourself

in the history.

That unwary wax

melted the divine light

to order us to enjoy

of what we are.

The crash without hope

was a natural epilogue

of a flight not granted.


Snail In A Basin


On the outskirts of a dream

grasped the urgency of a need,

darkened his fears

to pave the way for you,

she looked into your past

to show you the morning.

Fear of love enveloped you,

the power of life overwhelmed you.

You relegated her smile to a basin,

You cast the emotion in a pocket.

And she? She retreated into her armor,

she became a snail of iron and copper wire

shiny to the touch and with an impeccable structure,

she was slowly dying devoured by hunger.


In My Enclosure


Trust is not argued,

courage is experienced.

Bouncing on inconsistency

I got a good look at the indifference.

I stopped ...

Suddenly I stopped,

they were worth nothing

attunements of glances,

they were worth nothing

polyphonies of verses.

The wall is solid

the mortar is well spread,

in my enclosure

I prefer to hole up.



CLAUDIA PICCINNO is a teacher, poet and translator, she lives and teaches in the north of Italy. Operating in more than 100 anthologies, she’s member of the jury in many national and international literary prizes. She has been the Continental Director for Europe in the World Festival Poetry from April 2019 to September 2021, she represents Istanbul culture in Italy as Ambassador of Ist Sanat Art Association. She has published 41 poetry books, among her own poetry collections and other poets' translations into Italian language. She was conferred with the most prestigious award Frate Ilaro,2017, Ossi di seppia, 2020,Premio alla Cultura, Citta del Galateo,2021; Ambasciatrice culturale, Il cuscino di stelle, 2022;Premio Internazionale alla cultura Ut cultura poiesis, Firenze 2022;“Stele of Rosetta” in Istanbul in 2016, the Literary Awards Naji Naaman Prize 2018, “World icon for peace” for Wip in Ondo city, Nigeria, in April 2017; Global Icon Award 2020 for Writers Capital International Foundation, The light of Galata, Turkey 2021, Sahitto International Jury Award, Bangladesh 2021, AAZAAD INTERNATIONAL AWARD IN POETRY, India 2021, Aco Karamanov festival in Radovish,Macedonia,2021; . International Prize ‘Atjon Zhiti’-Pristina-Novembre202.  She gained almost 250 prizes in Italy for poetry and cultural merits.


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