The Purest Love

Você não sabe muito sobre amor até ter encontrado alguém que te escreva um poema. Essas são jóias escritas para mim.

(You don't know much about love until you have met someone who wrote you a poem. These jewels have been written to me.)

#17

Alzheimer has gotten to me
these past days,
months,
years.

my face can no longer
feel the wind
the way it used to feel.

the sand smell,
flees from my nose.

I can't notice
the few hairs remaning in my head and
everytime I accidentally cut myself
my soul bleeds out of this old body of mine.

it's like
everything
I was someday
is gone
and never
existed.

I am lack.

once I knew
that remembering
is important

but the only way to be immortal
is forgetting.

and even If
I don't remember,

I will never forget.

(por Marlon O.)

#16

Your mouth pours words
that flow into
my ears, willing
to become part
of the Indian Ocean.
 
I heard this little tale,
that when you were born
people would seat
around your bassinet
believing that
you were a waterfall

none was thirsty
around you.

You never talked,
you whispered.

I know,
I've felt
your breath on my neck,

I know,
it is in the wind
you keep
all of your secrets,

and every single one of them,
is also in your heart, big as a nation.

I will never leave this place,
I will never leave Kenya.

(por Marlon O.)

#15

You, dear one,
dwell in the pages of a sepia season;
you have the heart of a hot air balloon
that knows its way through many shades of sky;
red lips touch the yellow triangles of the sunflower,
and a corner chair lost between trees:
this is you.

I send kisses to you
in a paper boat.
(By Kerry Connor

#14
A girl wishes for wings, but your hands would do.
She wishes for a chariot, but a beat up truck and you
blows away the Saturday night blues.

A girl longs for words strung beautifully in an unique combination
A glance that lingers in utter fascination
But the silence of the night, with you by her side,
Soothes her unstrung nerves

A girl might want a thousand different things,
And yet it is you, with all your quirky imperfections that gives,
Her the satisfaction that no poem, no imagination can ever bring!

You are her spring.

(By Meena Iyer)


#13
How many choices are there within a minute, Kenia?

And who’s to know, when we sit at eventide
upon the porch, if it was all for the best
after every tear we shed to get our own way?

Who can tell the good from the bad ones, dear friend?
Things felt right at the time, for one,
but a thousand years could not surprise
the other. Not even the shower of stars
that passed through your eyes,
when you told him he was your universe,
could move him then.

If thirteen years can change a man, Kenia,
why waste sixty seconds more?
Even the nursery rhymes we sing to children
warn of the inconstant Peter, the fly-away Paul.
The day for knitting this story into a warm shawl
for younger shoulders will arrive,
but it has a different ending.

(By Kerry Connor)


#12
We'll make it through seasons
under a mysterious sky,
painted with a different gray.
And so when we get home
one of us can use a story.

(Por Gui)


#11
(Porque não doía mais hesitar,
achei-te à parte
das condições de linhas iniciais)

Enquanto vemos
um diferente e lindo cinza
atravessar as estações,
uma destas manhãs
estaremos em casa.

(Por Gui)

#10

Há um suspiro baixo

Que revolve o singelo

Que escorre nos dentes

E respinga na boca

- Palavra

Há também aquela

Que marca de preto

Que embarca depressa

E encharca os olhos

- Palavra

E há artesanatos

Quem chore navalha

Quem engula muralha

E teça corações

- Poeta

(Por Erick B.)

#9

Um carinho, uma estrela

todas as noites no mesmo ponto:

eu e você colados

nos planos de Deus.

(Por Gui)

#8

Aprendi,

hoje,

a te achar em todo lugar.

O amargo sabor que vinha

de ventos contrários

foi embora, de humor doce como um verso de amor.

Aprendi a te achar em todo lugar hoje.

Todo e único lugar.

(Por Gui)

#7

The raindrops are gone for a while.

I wasn't told any reasons.

I'm hopeful.

I'm homeless.

(By Gui)

#6

Ela rabisca sem tema

sem título

serena

Como se tudo fosse uma obra só

Como se tudo fosse um sonho só.

(Por Bruno Honorato)

#5

Kenia used to keep all her feelings under wraps

with smiles and niceness.

Her simplicity

was a lake skirted by beautiful landscape

which would drive anyone who dared crossing it

to drowning.

(By Erick B.)

#4

my friend

across the water...

we wave

(by Andrew Phillips)

#3

the city hosts them all

in the depths

busy – between the tall dark handsome – institutions

they climb to find the desk with their name

becoming so successful

at hiding

their shadows.

.

like an addict

they hide it

from each other

mostly from themselves

never truly successful

at disobeying its demands

all obsessive compulsives

now in socially acceptable ways

.

some brave souls

walk their shadows in the park

where the bright sun mocks

but feels warm somewhat

sensing moments of comfort

when they visit her

.

for this is where she dances

unafraid of hers

she paints her shadow

in bright colours

and speaks to it

like a friend

unafraid

they used to think her crazy

now she offers to paint

their shadows also

one day they will.

(by Andrew Phillips)

#2

Da torre pós-Babel,

ilusoriamente

torta,

a alma livre

lambe a paisagem extensa

com a língua duplicada:

sentimento e razão.

(por Marcantonio)

#1

Você é a metade inteira do sorriso estampado em rostos.

Você é o laço laçado entre a felicidade e a vida.

Você é o sorriso encantador das crianças.

É a luz, poesia e vento.

A musa, a mãe, minha amiga encantada.

É o verso escrito,

Torto e brilhante.

É inesperada e criativa.

O asterisco feliz e curioso.

A estrela e um livro de coração gigante e

Inquietante.

(por Luiza)