Sharing with friends the publication, today, of my poem “Chronology of the Pleasures”, in the Literary Review “Sky Island Journal”, its summer 2022 issue. Many thanks to the dear editors Jeff and Jason. Read (and enjoy, I hope) at:
https://www.skyislandjournal.com/issues#/issue-21-summer-2022/
We crossed over deserts, meadows, mountains,
travelled by rivers and seas, Arctics and Antarctics,
planted vines, bridges and ports, raised sheep and sons.
We built churches, cathedrals, palaces and poor hovels.
We lit fire into dark nights and hope into sore souls,
have also made mad things we prefer never to remember.
We threw roads and rails, telegraphs, cities, skyscrapers,
even an audacious tower, at Babel, when, our history tells,
You promptly restrained us.
Your sons became grandsons, great-grandsons, at last, us,
adoptive sons who every day attempt to remember
what was like one face that it has been said
we had been patterned from.
First published in Whispers, December 04, 2015.
Published in Dead Snakes, February 29, 2016.
Published in West Ward Quarterly, Winter 2017.
-There are bad things that turn into good-
My father was the youngest of thirteen siblings.
The family had long been up to twelve children.
At the end of the First World War,
his parents’ satisfaction was immense, none
of them had been summoned to the front.
And they rejoiced and celebrated so much,
that, on the rapture of the moment,
and in advanced age, came to be conceived
their thirteenth son,
the one who came to be my progenitor.
The years passed and my father, now adult,
was dating my future mother, led calm
and peaceful one life.
They loved each other, but couldn’t think
of getting married so soon.
They had to settle for life first.
Then the Second War broke out,
and he saw his companions going to fight.
But married people were exempt,
he went to the bank and got a loan,
and my mother’s father helped him
with such an extreme goodwill.
They were quickly married,
and, in a while, I arrived in this world,
firstling of a much-loved union.
We are children of war,
father, by the end of one;
me, by the beginning of another.
I have been looking for other places to pray to the Creator.
I have prayed in churches, cathedrals, small chapels,
synagogues, mosques, palaces and castles,
also poor hovels, humble inns.
On the streets and roads,
walking or travelling,
I rise my voice and my thoughts,
knowing how much I bother Him.
Truly and unfortunately, most of what I asked
has not been carried out.
I believe that instead He has answered
to what I unconsciously really need,
just He perceives, nobody else, mainly me.
I must recognize this has been the best
for the run of my life.
To be coherent with so reconnaissance,
I intend to never more pray again,
anywhere, anytime.
I am putting myself entirely into His hands,
fearless and unreservedly accepting
He guides, leads, and acts for me forever.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
Sharing with friends my poem “Hark! The Lark”, today, June 22th 2022, published in the Literary Review “The Ekprastic Review”. Many thanks to the dear editor Lorette C. Luzajic. Read (and enjoy) it at:
https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic/hark-the-lark-by-edilson-afonso-ferreira
My five poems “A Christ very little remembered”, “Dangerous Regression”, “Lines I will leave”, “Gloomy Days” and “Will Anyone ever understand?” have been published on the June 5th 2022 issue of “Scarlet Leaf Review”. My thanks to the dear editor Roxana Nastase. Read (and enjoy) it at
http://www.scarletleafreview.com/poems17/category/edison-a-ferreira
On “Return of the Dove, Oil on Canvas, 1851, by John Everett Millais”
Genesis 8.11 – “And the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth”
We pretend having our life,
even world’s life, always under control,
from past generations to present days.
Sometimes we feel close to that certainty,
and it is good that this should happen,
giving us some encouragement on the route.
We work with the mind and the heart,
science and desire, on outlining the future,
which we anticipate promising and happy.
Skirting around life’s corners, every so often,
we are faced with frightening facts,
perhaps echoes of ancient Greek tragedies,
poor of hope in the human renaissance.
Wars, revolutions, tyrannies and persecutions,
born on the drumming of soulless men,
have delayed landing in the promised land,
where milk and honey spur and light reigns,
preventing all evil once sown.
A land we have not yet arrived to,
but we heard an approaching sound
of the beating of the wings of the dove
we released in our present generation.
The one that is bringing in its beak
the green branch of the tree of peace
and entire fraternal human feelings
Published in Ekphrastic Review, Dec 20, 2020
My poem “Memorabilia” is published today, May 20th 2022, in the Literary Review “Rudderless Mariner Poetry”. Many thanks to the dear editor Bry White. Read (and enjoy) it at
https://www.rudderlessmarinerpoetry.com/blogpoetrysubmission/memorabilia-by-edilson-a-ferreira
My poem “Guilty a Heart” has been published in the Literary Review West Ward Quarterly, its printed Spring 2022 issue. Many thanks to the dear editor Shirley Anne Leonard.
Suddenly it is the day you were afraid of,
that you questioned yourself from so long,
doubting your strength to face it.
Now it is clear you should not had worried,
you missed happy hours you could have had,
forever lost.
You did not know, but always were in your hands
the tools and weapons to win the fight you feared,
that ambush traced since old times, by they
who neither loved or wished you good things.
We know they planned to eliminate you
and make life easier for them and their acolytes.
Really, your presence nowadays surprises them,
who never expected seeing you alive and stand up.
They are not aware your spirit has been blessed
since ancient ages of justice and righteousness,
what they would never be able to understand.
Moreover, they did not even dream
that venomous and merciless your ancestors
could put you on alert and guide your hands.
Be sure your strength astonished them,
besides all who witnessed your struggle.
You built secure pillars that will last forever,
for entire your offspring.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
edilsonmeloferreira 