Literature/Poetry

Bright Wet Eyes – Poetry from Italy

I saw those eyes

Completely pervaded by blinding light

Where I mirrored without veils.

Gabriella Picerno, psychologist, sexologist and poet from Italy, shares her poetry

Gabriella Picerno-Italy-SindhCourierGabriella Picerno is an Italian psychologist, pedagogue, and sexologist. She is passionate about photography and painting. Author of numerous publications of psychological and pedagogical essays, she writes novels and poems. Her lyrics have been translated into seven languages and published in 15 countries. She is involved in training activities for teachers and parents. She carries out clinical activities with adults, adolescents and children, concerning school distress, learning and relationship disorders, separation and divorce issues. She is Director of the Mille Abbracci series for Pav Edizioni and co-director of the Filo di Arianna series for GD Edizioni. Curator of the literary awards: La.

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Bright wet eyes

I saw those eyes

Completely pervaded by blinding light

Where I mirrored without veils.

I still have them inside of me,

Hidden in a secret place of my body,

Where no one can get in.

Beyond the infinity of that look,

Your happiness

The one I gave you

The one we could breathe

Like vital oxygen.

It was a propulsive rocky force

Silence as total satisfaction,

Enchantment of body

And soul,

Wide blossomed

And scented horizon.

Life in life.

***

Francia Square

In a winter evening you were waiting for me

In-between dusk as the daylight was almost

Over the horizon

And a light wind was shaking pine needles

Gently.

I got out of the car

Whilst you were coming towards me

With your surprised pace,

Alone for the first time,

From our laborious worlds.

Sitting in your car

A sort of pleasantness assaulted me,

Like the candour of soft cotton

Wrapping me

And made that little embarrassment vanish

Which had arisen as I was getting close to you.

***

Mirages

In nobody else’s heart

 Can I enter!

 I still feel

Only

Your fingers

Lightly touching

My skin,

Getting into

My thoughts.

All other roads

Are desert

With no floral scents.

Only you

Like a mirage

Appear.

___________

Read: Where is the peace? – Poetry from Italy

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