I still remember you, my love,
And those September days
That turned golden like bunches
Of ripe grapes on the vine.
Concetta La Placa, an eminent poetess from Italy, shares her poetry
Concetta La Placa, based in Rome, is a poet, writer, aphorist, critic, translator, social activist and author of the magazine Alessandria Today. She is present in the international poetic scene. She has published seven collections of poetry, and is Ambassador of Peace and Culture of the IFCH Forum. She received Dottorato honoris causa of Forum internazional for Creativity and Humanity Regno del Marocco, for her efforts in the fields of culture, art, peace, coexistence and humanity. She is member of several international organizations. She has worked as a professor at the L.U.M.S.A. University of Rome and at the Ministry of Labor and Social Policies. Her poems have been published in various anthologies of various authors and magazines from different countries of the world – Spain, Serbia, Bangladesh, India, Brazil, United States, Peru, Uruguay, Vietnam, Mexico, Costa Rica, Colombia, Portugal, etc.
THE EMPTINESS OF THE SOUL
LOVE IN SEPTEMBER
I still remember you, my love,
And those September days
That turned golden like bunches
Of ripe grapes on the vine.
The warm rays of the sun
Filtered a soft light,
That died in your gaze,
With each of our farewells.
Nature was colored
Orange, like our
Young hearts, inflamed
By an enthralling, flourishing love.
***
YOU IN MY THOUGHTS
In this autumn sky, I would like to lose my saddest thoughts.
I would like to dye them fiery red like this September sunset.
Let them free toward ethereal, wandering clouds.
I would like them to wander into infinity, to reach your soul.
To remember and dream, love, of you again and always.
***
RAIN
It’s raining, slowly
And every drop drips,
Slowly washing my heart.
Inside it now
There is nothing left of you,
No sign.
Only this wet
Around me that,
Of the rainy evening,
Can still refract light
Inside me.
***
NEVER THE SAME AGAIN
The life,
Like a river in flood,
Surprises us.
It flows among unexpected currents,
And it’s in constant motion.
And we cradled by its fluctuating motions,
We will never be the same again.
__________________
Read: Returning to Shine – Poetry from Italy
