Spring Flower… – A Bouquet of Poems from Italy

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villa-maina

In a season of life, where the spring, it seems truly infinite to us!

Maria Poetess Italy Sindh CourierMaria Caputo, an eminent poet and writer from Italy shares her three poems  

Maria Caputo is a poet, writer and songwriter. She was born in Villamaina, a small village in the province of Avellino, Italy. She has been writing since she was a young girl. She has published three books: ‘Sparks’, ‘Tsunami’, and ‘Poetry Notes’.  
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SPRING FLOWER…

With the sweet season,

The water gives way to the sun…

 

Nature, dull,

Is tinged with green,

Bursting with the color of flowers!

It’s jubilation under the cloak

Prodigious…

They celebrate, with chirping

Birds!

The courts begin and

The flirtations!

The animal kingdom is softening…

Meanwhile, a child grows up and…

Become a man…

Caught in harmony and

In peace of mind,

With my heart, more and more

Warmed up!

He’s ready to love too,

 

In a season of life,

 

 Where the spring,

It seems truly infinite to us!

***

ancient-castle-on-peak-overgrown-with-green-trees-raising-high-into-gray-sky-in-san-marino-italy-ADSF12565AND THE NOISE OF A THOUSAND CUTS

I would like to be wind,

To strike peace everywhere…

Make it reach beyond the border line…

I would like to be,

A cloud,

 

Rain,

That erases,

This stupid

War…

 

I would like to be,

That color,

Faded

From time,

Which erases

The pain and the bombs…

I would like to color the dreams of a child,

 

All over again, with noise,

Of a thousand caresses…

Meanwhile,

The sky turns grey,

It rains, on the living and the dead,

More blood flows,

Into the river

Of discord…

How cold, to the heart,

And how cold it still is…

***

3c41544cafeeb17b203ded7680ceb866THE EARTH HATES US

The earth hates us,

While she listens

Our thoughts.

Like a sister

She hugs us

And she trembles,

While how

Gentle sheep,

Let’s eat

All

The grass

Of a meadow

 

And not deaf

We feel

Everything is fine

Small

I gasp.

The earth hates us,

When of elegance

It is painted

His

Cloak,

With the subtle

Thread of wickedness,

With just one

Hand.

The earth hates us,

Absorbs everything

Evil,

Like one

Sponge,

She cleans us up,

While she buries

With bitterness

Waste

In the

 

Crust of her.

The earth loves us

And she eats herself

All hatred

Of the world

In a

Thousandth

Of a second.

___________________________

Angela KostaPrepared Angela Kosta Academic, journalist, writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator

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