My poem “Seasons on Fire” was published in the Ekphrastic Review, on January 11 2022. Many thanks to the dear editor Lorette C. Luzajic.
https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic-journal/seasons-on-fire-by-edilson-afonso-ferreira
Today I see my friend’s house,
who passed away three months ago,
and then I glimpsed a sad fact,
poignant and painful, the message that remained,
at the top of the four corners of his house,
where he lived with spouse and three daughters.
Steel spikes left pointing to the sky,
born from the hope of the columns that would ascend
to the second, maybe even a third floor,
sheltering future grandchildren, great-grandchildren,
all of them shielding his marks, his beliefs,
his wants and desires, his heritage to the posterity.
His daughters are not married yet, and,
probably, will not start a family.
I hope he will come to understand that,
although his house did not reach greater heights,
neither saw nor heard from grandchildren,
the life he lived on its ground floor had been
happy and fruitful, better than the all of us.
He died at age 84, and I miss him terribly.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
My poem “Fears and Feelings” is published today, December 1st 2021, in the London Literary Journal The Lake. Many thanks to the dear editor Mr. John Murphy.
My poem “Friends, Land and Flowers” has been published in the printed issue Fall 2021 of the Literary Review West Ward Quarterly. Many thanks to the dear editor Shirley Anne Leonard.
My poem “Night” was published on November 14 in the Literary Journal Rudderless Mariner. Thank you to its dear editors. Read and enjoy at:
https://www.rudderlessmarinerpoetry.com/blogpoetrysubmission/night-by-edilson-afonso-ferreira
My poem “A Christ very little remembered” has been published in the Indian Literary Journal PPP Ezine Poetry Poetics Pleasure, Volume 5, Issue 11, November 2021. Many thanks to the dear editor Rajnish Mishra. Read and enjoy at
http://www.poetrypoeticspleasureezine.wordpress.com
I have been told that a judge must have the right,
if not the obligation,
of only to manifest in the process file.
I intend to bring to us, the poets, a similar role,
that people come to us just by reading our poems,
not for any other sense or reason,
absorbing its lyrics, even its empty spaces,
its exclamation points and questions.
May they forgive us when, many times, the vernacular fails,
and we translate our feelings into poorly exposed traits,
leaving light footprints to be deciphered and followed.
We lift very high our soul, and only in our craft, daily poetizing,
we dare on going from the easy and light to the solemn,
to the deep and imposing truth that holds and subdues all of us:
the beauty, power and seduction of our common human race.
Even though someone might call us narcissists.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
I see they are at the end of the journey,
closing the office.
They are my friends, acquaintances, some I recognize
as former business colleagues.
But the features are changed, dressed with disinterest,
disenchantment, tiredness, even some little sadness,
and despair, certain an agony.
They locked the doors, the keys on an outside table,
none wanting to take them.
Visibly embarrassed and afraid, they seem ashamed,
as having lost their entire will,
not worrying on opening the doors next day.
Slowly I came to understand the painful and bitter truth,
that they are giving up on our world, without the courage
to start again the journey of the living, the hopeful,
those who do not flee the fight, the daily combat.
Where the manhood, the power and desire of past generations?
Where women, for suddenly I notice that I only see men.
Did they no longer want them, love them?
Where the beloved continuators of our specie,
mothers of our race? Are they dead, annihilated?
Crying of disgust, in deep grief, I cannot do anything.
I am just a ghost, a soul straying from the past, unpowered
to shake and slap those inside this sad and macabre vision.
I am witnessing, live and in (pale) color, the nightmare
that haunted me while alive: depopulated earth, forgotten
and unremembered of all of us, our dreams
buried on infinite, soulless and dark space.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
The faucets of time are always open
and it runs like wild colts,
in the open fields without limits or fences,
in summer days and fresh green grass.
Time is not tamed, have not been recruited
or trained the toilers for this craft;
it takes all of us and everything around,
and, as if it had been taught the path to follow,
does not delay or hesitate.
Has been doing its task since world’s lead-off,
and never ponders what has been ordered.
Day and night, in joy and sadness,
willingly or forced,
old, young, rich and poor, wise and foolish,
we are carried away like dry leaves in the fall.
Let’s be proud and adapt to this journey,
not allowing to the scars, personal
or collective, the power to postpone
or eliminate the search of our Eldorado,
once promised from olden generations.
Endemics, pandemics, pain and loss,
may we subject all of this,
for they never have had, or even will,
greater significance than so happy and glorious a fate,
long enshrined, inside our most cherished belief and hopes.
Published in WestWard Quarterly, summer printed 2022 issue
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©
So many beauties spread by the way,
I cannot pass without enjoying one by one.
Indeed, there are some ones so beautiful that,
besides to enjoy, should be also worshiped,
tribute and respect to the Common Creator.
Unhappily, I have amorous and stubborn a heart,
perhaps a delinquent one,
used to falling in love almost every day.
Could it be hard and insensible,
just as almost all of them,
so I would pass fast and safe,
impassible and passionless.
But it usually picks up a song,
from unknown a spell,
fairy music of the wind, or, who knows,
resurrected Ulysses’ mermaids singing,
that, poor me, I cannot resist.
So, I go, amazed and fascinated,
sometimes on despair and strained,
along with loving brothers and sisters,
daily struggling to move hard
and harsh the wheels of time.
(First published in Red Wolf Journal, Aug 8, 2021)
www.redwolfjournal.wordpress.com
Published in West Ward Quarterly, spring printed issue 2022
Published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, May 29, 2026
edilsonmeloferreira 