Liberatore Suffoletta

Rookie - 8 Points (July 2,1948 / Pettorano Sul Gizio, L'Aquila, Abruzzi, Italy)

Waning Winter Whims 2008 - Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta

You are carrying me,
fully consciousness,
woman who has desires,
all through the world.

Here, on the east coast,
I almost hear your voice:
your voice, in the wind,
filling entirely all movements;
unseen colors and eternal lights,
sea green colors and sea blue lights.

Your tongue of white fire
ignites my mouth
in a universe of water,
riding waves on your ship,
the sky,
marking out forgotten roads
of delight,
engraving with a blazing light
you grasb my firmness:
a black body
with the glowing larvae in its center

It is not I and I.
who uses words to disguise thoughts
I am this one;
walk beside me; you, whom I can not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
the one who remains silent while I talk,
the one who forgives, sweet, when I err,
the one who sleeps beside me in my head
Who knows what is going on;
there, on the other side of our bed?
How many times last night the ocean
cried, I heard her infant tears in the night
the sunrise was laughing all along
there, behind the darkness!

How many times the dark clouds
piling up far off
became nothing more than warm showers
peeling your warm honey body full of thunder!
Your rose dewy. Your breasts tender.
My broken sword gave life.

Hiking a flowery meadow
at the end of a road,
finding myself
Awaiting your return.

swallowing my ego
thinking of what is human,
finding myself, again
desiring your arms.

Is the door opening?
Is the cricket singing?
Are you still going around naked
out there in the fields?
Like water,
going in and out of everyone.
Are you still going around naked
in the air?
Your lover is not asleep,
the ant is busy.
Do you want to go around naked
in our house?
May I open all your chakras
with these crabby hands?

I have a feeling
that my anchor
is stuck,
down there in the depths,
of your salt marsh.
And...Silence...Waves...
everything happens,
as we now, quietly,
reflect about an old life?

On this rainy march day
I invite you
On a picnic


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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 28, 2009



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