IOLANDA LEOTTA

 

 

My Home Country

 

In my home country,

hopes gathered in a bunch of ears of grain,

mowers of dreams crush the clumps of earth

the gossip like the scythes are boomerangs,

women grouped together,

screamers of the sing-songs and old people

on the benches,

felt hats on the sidewalks,

sing romances next to the bonfires in winter,

a fan praises to the Paladins of France,

the populace rejoice, tinkling of the glasses,

the wine of Zibibbo overflows.

Grandparents slumber on the doorway

and smile to their grandchildren

as never-aged children,

the idealists miss the green valley

but don’t come back.

The echo of the Trojan women is still heard

in the Neto river valley,

they’re the Laomedon’s daughters,

prisoners of the Achaeans,

They set fire to the ships

and inflame the hearts of the enemies,

so, free from slavery,

they love and build families in the fertile valley. 

One can hear the voices of the Greeks,

they’ve lost the way back home

and wander on the banks of the Neto river,

even the gods don’t hear their call,

but this was the promised land,

fertile fields and plenty of water.

The sea divides and at the same time

unites the races,

stories and destinies meet, cultures merge,

there’s no more distinction, nor estrangement.

 

Peace

 

In the crystal ball

"Eirene" escapes me,

discord among the peoples

"Eris" spreads.

Anonymous, in the crowd,

I flee.

Disruptive instinct

leads me to try peace.

In the desecrated churchyards

we don't say grace.

In the profaned sacred places

one weeps:

uncovered tombs,

trampled corpses,

on the battlefields war triumphs.

The waves are raging in the sea,

I don’t fear impetuous wind or storm,

I follow my ideal,

I hear no more blasphemous words,

blessing comes.

Loving, angelic voice,

I sink into an ocean of peace.

 

Wartime

 

My God,

when this slow agony

which leads to death will have an end.

There are those who can stop the massacre,

There are those who see but are blind,

There are those who hear but are deaf

to the desperate call for help

of an agonizing man on his deathbed.

When the enlistment of soldiers forced to kill,

the martyrdom of mothers and fathers

who cry on the bloody bodies of their children

will have an end.

When this rain of bullets that strikes,

indiscriminately, from the sky will end:

the innocent dies and the criminal enjoys

while watching the macabre horror movie.

Jesus! the blood you shed is not enough

to redeem humanity and the mercy

of your father on his children.

Come down to earth, one more time, help us!

We’re tired and powerless,

some people don’t smell the dead bodies,

the wind of death that is blowing

and there’s no escape.

Fools! Don’t you hear the voice of God!

his warning.

Meanwhile, I pray: the massacre

of innocent people must end.

The leaders shakes hands and smiles,

the powerful, gather in conferences,

confabulate, plan, immortalized

by the photographer on the front page.

The day after, the bombs explode.

In this world we’re constantly talking

about peace but you always end up at war.

 

IOLANDA LEOTTA

 

IOLANDA LEOTTA, poetess and storyteller, was born was born in Rocca di Neto (Kr), Italy. She holds a degree in Sciences of Linguistic Mediation. She's a cultural mediator. She’s been awarded in many literary competitions. She published a bilingual book of narrative poetry: “Indagine sulla vita: luci e ombre/Investigation of life: lights and shadows”, available on Amazon and the book of poetic prose “L’esploratrice dei sentimenti e dei valori umani”, Italian version, Aletti editor. She's the Winner of the III World Award forexcellence “CÉSAR VALLEJO” and the World Award by Rahim-Karim 2022  . Masterclasses with F. Gazzè, G. Anastasi,songwriters; D. Rondoni, playwright, Mogol, record producer. She received the certificate of artisticcompetence with the lyrics of her song “The Archipelago of Love” for participation in the National Semifinal ofthe Tour Music Fest 16 edition 2024.Many of her poems were published in International Literary Journals and Anthologies: “Sparks of Calliope”, “The Writers and Readers Magazine”, “The Quiver Review”, “Verse-Virtual”, “Lothlorien Poetry Journal”, “Opa Anthology of poetry”, “Ravens Quoth Press”, “Reflectoem” “Litterateur Rw”; “HERA The Light of Women”,“The Pine Cone Review”, “Suranad P.N. Kunjan Pillai” “Spillwords Press”, “Sweetycat Press”.