Stumbles, Pitfalls, and Spells

‘Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay, las hay’

(Galicia’s cruel saying)

There was a thief whose a bad luck set him

on the way to your house;

a rapist that something drove his mad eyes

and his insane desire for that dear friend of yours,

or, who knows, the weight of evil,

even to your beloved daughter.

A runaway truck that went around, missed you,

but wrecked a car with your friend’s sister,

also destroying her life and her family’s.

An irate driver who picked you up in traffic,

for, without any reason, overflow onto you,

all his hatred towards this world we live in.

That drug dealer who once saw at your son

a certain hopelessness of youth and guided him,

without pity or hesitation and with all wickedness,

on the sordid path of addiction.

That one you thought your friend but directed you,

with false truths and promises of great gains,  

for a business he never had money or courage to.

That stranger (maybe even a friend),

who, hidden from you and from due respect,

set eyes of malice and sin in your wife.

That sullen and unpredictable man, let loose on the streets,

instead of locked up in a bughouse, who can, on the outbreak

of the moment, just take your life. 

So are some ways generated by witches you never knew, 

nor had ever wished to know,

who, for free and pleasure of wrongdoing, also for envy,

collide daily with your dear fellow ones,

and are always looking for you too.

(Written on November 19, 2016)

Cherished Desires

I feel I could never be related to owls, bats  

and wolves, or other nocturnal animals.

I love at daylight to stare at the world face to face,

entirely visualizing all its beauties.  

I love the sunrise that dispels the blackness,

exposing and revealing everything,    

without shame, measure or prudence.

I love to feel that we’re on the road again,  

to a future we aren’t aware of, but confident

in one Almighty who, closely and amorously,

hidden and discreet, maybe even shy,

drives and guides all of us.  

I love the noise of people on streets and alleys,

corners and places,  

jointly seeking to move the hard wheels of time.

I prefer love vows made clearly under the sun

than those made in the rapture of night passions.

I must confess that, on some sunny days

and a blue sky,

I dream of riding the winds high and high, 

looking for the lost realms of Paradise.

(Written on March 20, 2017)

Dangerous Regression

Sometimes I visit the past, long ago, perilous

and suspicious a world.

The road I take has been built entirely by me,   

in very hard a way no one at least dreams of.

Rough a path and full of so many deviations,

that even I, well used to, I go so timorous.  

Now, it is clear there were no other choices,

for only this way would lead me where I am.  

Where and what I must be ever since I was.

In this visit, I see friends, lovers, enemies,

grandfathers and cousins, see also myself.

Then, undoubted alive, they talk to me,   

ask for news and soon we are laughing,  

like old comrades absent for so long. 

On leaving, someone tries to follow me,

but I go home alone.

I suspect that past is jealous of its deeds,

and always hides how has weaved them.   

I think we must go there as few times

as we are capable of.

(Written on March 26,2016)

Silent Witnesses

It is common our disputes about this and that.

Really, almost daily, we are at opposite sides.

Friends say we are not well-settled a couple,

and such misjudgment, I know, hurts us equally.

In the deeps of night, standing awake in bed,

I look at you asleep and feel all my friends’ error.

Who would bear testimony of us, I ask myself.

Walls and roofs by sure know our inmost life

but they do not speak, are invalid witnesses.

I ask them if just to me would they say of us.  

They say of our confronts, furies, rough words

and revilements but also remember hugs and

hot kisses. Likewise, they remember listening       

some words like it is cold out, dear, wear your

coat or don’t be late, darling; some little things

only beloved ones are capable of.

They say we are at hard and arduous a battle,   

 pursuing, although scarce, a bit of true love.  

They also say to keep the route and fear nothing.

Tiles and bricks indeed they are, but perceive,

unlike our best friends, the very plot of the play.

(Written Sep 16, 2012)

Life, Seasons, and Desires

Let me tell you a secret.

Secrets are made to, at the right and appropriate time,

be revealed and exposed.

They twist and squirm, get tired of the imprisonment imposed

and ask, if not demand, their freedom.

I am a conservative man, averse to change.

I would like to live my whole life in the same house,

same friends, same loves;

would have my children and their children should be equally ours,

growing, assembling and sharing rooms and lives around,

indifferent to some strange customs of those

who do not love or even like each other. 

We would be like a pack of wolves always together,

that have never learned to segregate,

and know no other world but theirs.

I like the sun that does not change

and it is the same every day,  

heating and never forgetting us.

I cannot understand the moon, its four phases and four faces,

that makes us fall in love with its brightness and then,

plays hide-and-seek, feminine and elusive wants and appearances.

I would like to have an extended spring without summer,

a fall without winter, succulent fruits the whole year,

packed with gentle rains and tender winds.

My hair could be white, but full and thick,

not meager and thin; my desire active and predatory,

voracious and powerful, facing my last season

with that child’s own haughtiness, still shaped

as a certain book says, in the image and likeness

of our Creator’s strength.

(Written on 2018-10-06)

Sharing with friends my poem “I cannot wait any longer”, published on June 1st, 2026, in the Indian Literary Journal “The Wise Owl”. Many thanks to the dear editor, Dr. Rachna Singh.

I cannot wait any longer

I am in a hurry to wander by,

to love and praise world’s beauties,

before, all at once, they cease to be.

I must love mainly the sad ones,

who were not loved

not by lack of lovers,

but by lack of love.

So proud of my desire,

I will praise those wild

and lost in hidden waterfalls,  

after untrodden ways.

I will break my heavy chains

and soon start my journey,

avoiding some chronic sadness

and the trampling of the ways

I will pass by.

https://www.thewiseowl.art

Sharing with friends my five poems published today, May 29th, 2026, in the English Literary Review “Lothlorien Poetry Journal”. Many thanks to the dear editor Strider Marcus Jones.

“Nostalgia “, “Saints and Sinners”, “Dangerous Regression”, “Inward Nobility”, “Guilty a Heart”.

https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/05/five-poems-by-edilson-afonso-ferreira.html

Sharing with friends six poems of mine, just published in the Anthology Voices 2026, of Cold River Press, California, USA, on pages 25 to 27 – “Comrades on the Road”, “Saints and Sinners”, “Could they understand?”, “Forgotten Love Story”, “The Saga of a Race”, and “Memorabilia”. Many thanks to the dear editor Dave Boles.

Sharing my poem “Fears and Feelings” with friends, today, May 23rd, published in the American Literary Journal “Feed the Holy”. Many thanks to the dear editor, Ms. Barbara Leonhard.

https://feedthehol.blogspot.com/2026/05/fears-and-feelings-by-edilson-ferreira.html