The Land where I lived

I come from far away, from a land you do not know,

where there was no uncertainty or doubt,

the windsocks at the airports only marked

good winds, never thunderstorms or calamities.

All the flights departed at the right times,

with all destinations assured,

as well as the marriages and lives

of each one of its inhabitants.

Winds, rain and snow had their proper seasons,

did not extrapolate and cohabited naturally

and amicably with humans.

Even tragedies and accidents, so few ones,

have their correct proportions and partners,

accepted and shared by mutual agreement.

Really, a perfect midsummer night’s dream.

Nowadays, I am an outcast from my homeland,

and I know the path to my return is blocked.

I fear I will live with you for a long time yet.

I must write a book, if do not have time,

some poems, perhaps, telling my stories,

happiness, even magic, which I left behind.

 

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

 

 

The Saga of a People

I like humans.

They are a peculiar people who are confined

on a planet long forgotten in space.

Abandoned, as well as in a bus with non-existent stops,

they believe that it is in store for them

safe and happy a destiny.

It seems they are waiting for a new land, where milk

and honey flow abundantly and evil never finds shelter,

once promised by the creator of their race.

Such is the story that has been passed by their ancestors,

successively and unhappily buried in the wheels of time.

I think they deserve to be supported in every way possible,

as their toiling has been proven very arduous and painful.

Indeed, they have so far endured their journey, due to odd,

exquisite and singular a love, long ago born and cultivated,

with warmth and passion, to and from anyone of them.

Anyway, although his absence,

they remember and revere their creator,

and, some, even love.

 

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

 

 

 

I love all of them

I have children that I have generated

on happy and joyful days,

easy laughs, affectionate toasts,

love whispers,

tight hugs and endless kisses.

But I love more the ones generated

on unexpected and improvised feelings,

without flaunt or adornment,

no parties or songs,

just by sudden enchantment of beauty.

Yet I love even more those created

on that ordinary, dark and quiet day,

without desire, rapture or passion,

by just communing and obeying to

our Creator’s greatest commandment:

“Be fruitful and multiply. Bring forth abundantly

in the earth and multiply in it” – Genesis 9-7.

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

Far away from Home

There are countries, states, laws, constitutions,

Bible, Koran, catechisms, versicles.

Multiple versions, different procedures,

corrections and penalties.

As if we, humans, because having spread ourselves

around our entire world, were diverse,

dissimilar, incompatible beings.

The truth, so little faced and assumed,

and indoctrinated with so little faith,

is that we came destined to keep alive

the flame of mutual and supportive love,

free from color, race, religion walls and borders.

We have had intelligence and culture to, unluckily,

only improve our mismatches and idiosyncrasies.

The longer we stay on this strange route,

we will be farther from the promised land,

that Canaan where milk and honey flow,

and evil has no place and hides,

defeated, confused and humiliated.

 

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

 

 

 

Night

When night comes and sleep does not appear,

I ride through unsuspected worlds,

have memories even from days I did not live,

by sure dreams I did not realize.

The yearning is loose; I have to fill the void,

so that I arrive in full to another day waiting for me,

new challenges, new fights.

The new day will be powerful and pugnacious,

unlike me, one day older and not being able to hide

on the face and soul, the marks of misfortune and sorrow,

unrequited loves, dislikes and mismatches.

I will show that I did not renounce the human inheritance,

and, along with dear fellow ones I lived, loved and suffered,

having watered the road with sweat and tears.

Always sure that we will reach, at the end of the journey,

the promised land, and, unlike Abraham,

who just had a glimpse, we will took secure possession, and,

dancing and partying, that day, we will throw to the skies,

sound and honest a laughter.

 

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

My Journey’s End

The emotion that lies at the heart,

not shown in gestures and words,

cannot be measured or felt,

but for myself.

The tears of sadness and despair,

even those of rejoicing and pleasure,

salty and hot ones,

have leavened the soil where I live,

bringing forth flowers, fruits, children.

Have nourished and ennobled my spirit,

paying the toll I owe to the lord of the fief.

I am sure they are leading me to Canaan,

the promised land where evil finds no shelter

and milk and honey flow abundantly.

Where the woman I desire is waiting for me,

at the door of my house, longing and needy,

wife and lover.

My Hurry

They do not know that I am in a hurry.

A hurry to love this world even more,

with all people destiny has given to me,

fellow travelers in the common journey.

A hurry to instill and teach my children

the art of goodwill and mutual respect,

pillars that bring us closer to the Creator.

A hurry to fight the good fight, wielding

my sword, my mind and my will

against hopeless and unfaithful brothers,

acolytes of those fallen angels who envy,

hate and despise happiness, love and

the common good.

A hurry that before the end of my days,

may I help us to be closer to the promised land,

where milk and honey flow and evil ever hides,

defeated, disoriented, humiliated.

 

Published in Poetry Poetics Pleasure, September 2019

http://www.poetrypoeticspleasureezine.wordpress.com

 

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©