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 ©

Remembrance

Today I am remembering the voices I have been hearing,

which are recorded in my memory:

the first cry of the newborn, searching to be noticed

in the new world in which he is starting;

the last cry of pain from the dying,

saying goodbye to those who remain;

the vow and whispers of passionate lovers;

by the summer, the geese’s hisses and

the buzzing of bees and hummingbirds,

in their comings and goings to their flowers;

the noise of people on the streets, corners and squares,

struggling not to go unnoticed

and to leave their stories written;

likewise, and, perhaps, even more remarkable,

at least for me,

the voice that cannot be spoken ,

coils in the throat, comes back to the soul,

then radiates in the brightness of the eyes,

entranced by:

the extreme beauty of the beloved woman,

the sun that got lost at night and it is back,

the smile that was thought to be lost,

the children’s return, long absent from home.

Strong feelings making life worth living,

and more light our journey.

A journey in which we hold hands,

towards the promised land,

where milk and honey flow,

and evil never finds shelter.

 

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

My Tears and my Cries

I cry for the estrangement among whites and blacks,

yellows and browns, Christians and Muslims;

for the rich who reach water from golden faucets

and the poor who carry it in the buckets;

for the wine and salmon tables of the mansions

and the yesterday’s bread passing from hand to hand;

for the security of the politicians on the comings years

and the fear of the common people for tomorrow;

for the dreams of the righteous, that have not come true

and the audacity of the insolents, who have no feelings

and are not intimidated.

But I hope to have strength until my last day,

to pierce the veil that seeks to cover evil,

lifting up my sword in the Lord’s army,

always angry against injustice and oppression.

It is my faith that this will be

sacred and ultimate my soul’s redemption.