Sharing with friends my poem “Mishaps in Time”, just published in the printed 2022 summer issue of the Literary Journal “WestWard Quarterly”. Many thanks to the dear editor Dr. Richard Leonard.


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.
Published in All Yor Poems, April 2024
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
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