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YESTERDAY Time runs down the river Time runs down my face some Time may good some time may bad and sure some time I do not forget                                 Thomas Schüle RETURN

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REFUGE

LIMAN

RIFUGIO

Your body: fruit of water.
Your body: sweet perfume!
Your bofdy: yellow copper...
Your body: sound and fume!

Your body: light and thunder
Your body: angel's dress!
Your body: hot, loved, tender
Shelter for my soul, through deaths...

           Radu Barbulescu RETURN

 

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AFRICAN BEAUTY

I love the earth tones
of your face,
Your hair that curls
like ebon lace.
I love the night,
black velvet,
you!

I love the way you walk
with grace,
Your laughter
like a warm embrace.
You give my soul
a resting place.

In all that's beautiful
I see your face.

                 Terry Silver RETURN

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HERE AGAIN

You were here again
In my dream
The warmth of your body
Whispers in the night
Kisses on your lips
Your chest
Your stomach
And downwards
Your breathing changes
As excitement grows
My lips open
tongue tasting
Fingers stroking lightly
My mouth accepts you
Hard, stiff, in need
I want you in another place
I want to receive
But I want to give
Your need fuels my desire
My mouth finds the rhythm
my eyes look upwards
You`re watching me
Through half closed eyes
My tongue finds its own path
Licking lightly, fast
Circling slowly
My mouth moves
My hand caresses
Your hand is on my head
Your fingers in my hair
Caressing, guiding
Warmth fills my mouth
Breathing fills the air
Hands lifting me gently upwards
Lips touching mine
But then you were gone

              Karen D.Goode RETURN

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Can you love me?

POTRESTI AMARMI?

Yeah, I know!
I have heard lots of....
You look great!
That dress looks great on you!
But I don't care!
All that I want you to do
Is to love me,
No!
It's not about sex or anything like that,
It's actually about love itself.
It's about true feelings,
It's about inner emotions, you know!
Yeah!
I have heard it too!
You are beautiful!
So is your soul, as clear as a crystal ball,
The one that one can see through it!
Or
You are an Angel fallen from the sky!
But, pleasssse!
Cut the crap!
Can you fall in love with me?
Can you?
I know I shouldn't beg for love
But I am tired of loving so much, and being used,
This time I want someone to love me,
I want someone to think of me all day long.
And to miss me too,
Yes!
I am talking to you, the one out there
Can you fall in love with me?
I am not ugly, and I got lots of love to give away!
I don't care about material things,
Not even about expensive gifts.
All that I want is someone to love me!
Can you do that for me?
Please!
(Screaming) can yooooouuuu fall in loveeeee with meeeeeeeeee?
Can you?

                                      Leticia Lopez RETURN

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WISH

VOGLIA

I sense sensations coming
to my mind
in little steps
from my heart.

It probably is the wish
to explore your every void
and fill it with my passion.

                        Gianluca Bugea RETURN

                   (Translated byVirgil Gelormino)

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 VENETIAN VOICES

VOCI VENEZIANE

My squids were against the wineglass. Babel

Of voices, tourists, shopkeepers, fables,

And myths were all in the puff of a cigar.

I was soft as pigeons, a hungry explorer,

I hugged to my Karma

With the frenzy of a racing driver.

Realised, work, staff meetings, dinners

Are step-mothers. Talks on realpolotik,

All humdrum facts

Are worse than overcooked carrots.

 

The voices dragged me along,

Seductive, full of coconut-tree-charm.

I walked through the terrifying

Beauty of lanes gathering

Penaumbrae of gold, warships, and skeletons.

Precious metals hummed songs of rootless waves.

The men with blue-ribbonned hats stood on the steps,

Kneep-deep in water, their hands, fingerless,

Caressed the wounds of their boats.

Clear-eyed grapes glared,

Forced me to chew the steel blades of abyss.

 

I murmured, "Dear voices, I’m your honoured hostage.

Tell me what famished perfume died in this palace?

Days are fuming sulphur, evenings have a feminine grace,

At nights wolves in fountains, and feast.

Tell me how many slaves had stretched out on the ground

To feed the appetite of their elegant masters?"

 

The voices loosened their limbs, lifted

Above the lagoon. I was left

With the stench and perfumed ashes.

                          Mazumdar Dipak RETURN

 

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CREATIVITY

When light implants
its incandescent mystery,
each tendril of the soul
ignites
and curls
around the blazing seed.

Coiled,
compressed,
the rings of fire tense
searing
When suddenly the soul explodes
dissolving to transparency
what was opaque.

Within the fetal depths
a voice now sings
And O that melody
spurts threads of flame!

                                 Terry Silver RETURN

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AT THE BUS STATION

here at the bus station!
i can see lots of people in the waiting room. 
some people are coming, some others are leaving,
probably most of them know what their next station is,
while some others ignore it perhaps, just like me!
i can see that you are standing right there.
you are waiting for your chance for a place to go.
you insist that you are going the same place I'm going to but, 
excuse me!
i don't even know what my next stop is.
here at the bus station.
everyone is waiting for his chance to go away
or to come back, to finish what they have started
yesterday or to quit.
the skies look so different from up here.
every sky is shaded with different color,
rose, blue, black and even white.
i see buses crowded with dark souls and ignorance.
but despite those ugly shadows
i still can see some bright eyes
that claim for freedom and happiness.
i see several buses approaching
but i don't know which one i should board.
666 or 111?
i don't know!!
let me guess!
should i take it now that the sun is in the middle of the sky,
and that is brightening my soul?
or
should i take it later at night,
when everything is quiet and dark?

                      Leticia Lopez RETURN

 

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FIRST TIME SPECIAL MOMENTS

A child,

three years old,

and

all alone,

toddles down,

the high broad basement hallway,

of St. Ann's Infant Home.

When he nears the threshold

of the kitchen door,

he hears a soft sweet voice within

beckon him to enter in:

"Jimmy!" "Jimmy!"

A young Franciscan sister,

veiled in white,

lifts little Jimmy high

into the air

and

sets him on a chair.

She pours for him a glass

of fresh tomato juice,

sweetly smiling all the while.

The kinless boy,

emotionless,

remains absorbed

in fresh tomato juice,

for he has never known

the interactive glow

of family joy.

                                                     Virgil Gelormino RETURN

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              FALLEN ANGEL

             ANGELO CADUTO