I wander by unvoiced, almost secretly,
like a ghost by corners of a sleeping city,
fearful they could awake arresting me
to die at dawn on merciless lethal light.
First published in Right Hand Pointing issue 83-1, February 2015.
http://www.righthandpointing.net
Published in Highland Park Poetry, Winter 2016 Muses’ Gallery, 04-January-2016.
http://www.highlandparkpoetry.org/themusesgallery.html
Published in The Chamber Magazine, May 7 2021
http://www.thechambermagazine.com
Always on Tuesday, Saint Anthony’s day,
I attend Mass at Saint Anthony’s church,
the littlest and farthermost of my town.
Indeed, it is more like a chapel.
Few people go there, they pray mainly
at Saint Vincent’s, in Central Square,
that looks as refulgent as a Cathedral.
They are unaware that the church I go to
was built on the ground of old, or better,
the oldest of our cemeteries.
I know that great-grandparents’ bones
are in the foundation of Saint Anthony’s.
And I firmly believe that
my ancestors dispense their blessings,
along with those of our Lord
and of the Saint of every Tuesday evening.
Published in “Whispers”, February 02, 2016.
http://www.whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com
— A Children’s Chorus —
Every day I fetch my granddaughter,
four and a half, invariably by five pm,
from her kindergarten.
Parents waiting at the classroom door,
she suddenly grabs me by the hands and,
to the teacher’s and everyone’s astonishment,
leads her colleagues,
in all sixteen, to sing
happy birthday for me.
So, she gives me a wrapping paper folded
like a letter, in pencil written – I love you.
What more needs a man?
Published in Right Hand Pointing, issue 94, January 2016.
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. Also, remember having heard
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.
First published in TWJ Magazine, October 2014.
Published in Amomancies, July 2015; in Whispers, August 2015.
http://www.whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com
Published in Indiana Voice Journal, February 2016 issue.
http://www.indianavoicejournal.com
Published in Dead Snakes, March 21, 2016.
http://www.deadsnakes.blogspot.com
Published in The Basil O’Flaherty, July 2016.
http://www.thebasiloflaherty.weebly.com
Published in Snapdragon, December 2016.
http://www.snapdragonjournal.com
Published in Better than Starbucks, May 2018 issue
http://www.betterthanstarbucks.org.
Published in Free Lit Magazine, November 2019
http://www.freelitmagazine.com
Published in WestWard Quarterly, printed winter 2023 issue
Published in Poem Alone, May 20 2024
http://www.poemalone.blogspot.com
Published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, March 10, 2024
http://www.lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com
Published in The Galway Review, Aug 13, 2025
http://www.thegalwayreview.com
My granddaughter tells me
that her mother, my daughter in law
has taught her that everybody will die.
My mother, nor father, even smarter,
has never told me anything like this.
Aged a man, now I learn from a kid
life secrets so long hidden from me.
How many more sufferings are hidden
on the laps of time,
on the corners of life?
How many more unwanted lines
in off-screen and in secret has written
unknown destiny’s Master?
Indeed, we are not the right owners of our days,
occupied on pursuing threads random thrown
around infamous old a Greek labyrinth.
Really, it is bitter, even ruthless the price
that all of us have been charged to be alive.
But it is true there are some tiny moments,
few minutes, even seconds,
such happy and blessed ones, which are well worth
all the troubles of so broken a human soul.
Published in Indiana Voice Journal, May 2016 issue.
Sometimes our history still hears
the echoes of battles that left cries and tears,
abandoned orphans and humiliated losers,
besides perplexed and bewildered winners,
weakened from hard a victory.
But, as counterpoint to the pain,
just after and almost together,
never annotated in the textbooks,
accurate witness always has heard,
from fearless couples, love whispers,
rising from the battles to the heavens,
there welcomed as most precious a prayer.
First published in The Literary Nest, April 15, 2016.
http://www.theliterarynest.com
Published in Dead Snakes, May 6, 2016.
http://www.deadsnakes.blogspot.com
People are afraid of the two, for it breaks the unity
and opens the way for so many choices, displaying
countless and multiple options.
Two brings us the doubt, the dubious, the duality
and we must be wise to face it, taking the right way.
Someone says so many options complicate our life
but we know humans are unequal, what just makes
all humanity’s beauty – its mutual accomplishment.
We must say no to the unity and happily arrive to the two,
then quick to million, because by millions we are counted
and millions are our needs, wants and desires.
Blessed be those
who are opening paths without knowing if they will have
the strength to conclude it;
who put themselves to the test without further ado than love
for a cause and the hunger to fight the good fight;
who believe that people are made to accomplish one
for the other, performing generous mankind;
who are full of projects for the next years even fearful
by the ones of next week;
who fall in love and are not afraid to demonstrate it;
who plant a tree fully aware never will reap its fruits
nor sit by its shadow, but fully contented for,
someday, it will serve for a fellow one,
indebted to a past kindness.
Published in the February 2016 issue of Indiana Voice Journal.
http://www.indianavoicejournal.com
Published in Highland Park Poetry, Winter 2017 issue
http://www.highlandparkpoetry.org
Published in The Lake, November 2018 issue
http://www.thelakepoetry.co.uk
Published in Free Lit Magazine, July 2019 issue (The Humanities issue)
I remember sounds and faces of my past,
love’s vows, hot hugs and flamed kisses.
Romantic nights and parties, best songs,
best friends, nostalgic life’s expectations.
But my beloved expectations always were,
year by year, the singing of a bird.
A pheasant cuckoo strong hammering
two potent whistles, that, by no error,
all of us by then so listened:
summer comes, summer comes!
It was single a cuckoo that every year
worked with peculiar trill to announce
oncoming days of most desired season.
We never saw but always heard its song
only appearing and sounding once a year.
Its chant has been lost and our summer
has not ever been the same, without
that hammering dear beat.
Published in Whispers, October 04 2015.
edilsonmeloferreira 