Five Poems by Edilson Afonso Ferreira

 

On War and Love

My father was the youngest of thirteen siblings.

The family had long been up to twelve children.

At the end of the First World War,

his parents’ satisfaction was immense, none

of them had been summoned to the front.

And they rejoiced and celebrated so much,

that, on the joy of the moment,

and in advanced age, came to be conceived

their thirteenth son,  

the one who came to be my progenitor.

The years passed and my father, now adult,

was dating my future mother, led calm

and peaceful one life.

They loved each other very much,

but couldn’t afford to get married so soon.  

Then the Second War broke out,  

and he saw his companions going to fight.

But married people were exempt,

he went to the bank and got a loan,  

and mom’s father helped him

as much as he could.

They were quickly married,

and, in a while, I arrived in this world,

firstling of a much-loved union.

We are children of war,

father, by the end of one;

me, by the beginning of another.

Chronology of the Pleasures

About one month or two ago,

on the walk we take almost every day,

when passing by a well-known bridge in my city,

I noticed, not without some sadness, 

that there was a family living under it,

at a corner they had cleaned on the riverbank.

I was filed with sadness, for sure they were homeless,

or, at least, temporarily, having as roof

the lower part of that framework.

Yesterday, while walking with my wife, we perceived

that there was something different, a few more people,

in addition to the family we were used to seeing.

A couple of bonfires lit better the area,

they seemed to feel very comfortable,

laughing and happy, we even heard

something like a clink of glasses.

My wife was surprised and did not understand,

but, suddenly, I did, and told her:

there is no doubt, they are having guests today

and are having fun.

Then, we became aware that, really, it had been a while

since we enjoyed much the same pleasure.

Published in Sky Island Journal, issue 21, summer 2022.

 

 

Desires

I feel I could never be related to owls, bats 

and wolves, or other nocturnal animals.

I love at daylight to stare at the world face to face,

entirely visualizing all its beauties. 

I love the sunrise that dispels the blackness,

exposing and revealing everything,

without shame, measure or prudence.

I love to feel that we’re on the road again, 

to a future we aren’t aware of, but confident

in one Almighty who, closely and amorously,

hidden and discreet, maybe even shy,

drives and guides all of us. 

I love the noise of people on streets and alleys,

corners and places, 

jointly seeking to move hard and harsh

the wheels of time. 

I prefer love vows made clearly under the sun

than those made in the rapture of night passions.

I must confess that, on some sunny days

and a blue sky,

I dream of riding the winds high and high, 

looking for the lost realms of Paradise.

(Published in Rudderless Mariner, Aug 7, 2021)

 

 

Gloomy Days

                                                                                                  

My dead, those I loved in life,

I do not bury them.

They remain forever unburied,

at least as long as I can stay alive.

When I die, they will be buried beside me.

I am sure they know this, knowing also 

I am still counting on their help and support.

We talk about everything and everyone,

we laugh, weep, love and hate;

they rest with me at night and give me strength,

at the dawn of a new day. 

Every victory of mine, they applaud and rejoice,

as faithful crowd, that accompanies their team.

Morbid desires, unnatural cravings, some will say.

But no, it is just great and honest one love, a pure one, 

that understands and consoles me on certain days.

Days full with doubts, shadows and ill feelings,

those that fate has marked for me,

which, by sure, I will not be able to avoid. 

 

First published in Poetry Poetics Pleasure, March 2021.

 

 

Rewriting Paradise

 

-Pandemic Midsummer Night’s Dream-

 

We found ourselves in the deserted streets,

and twinned in the challenge and fearlessness

to the enacted isolation.

Compelled by the oddity of the moment,   

we delighted in such a privacy,

fruit and reward for our boldness.

Our love blossomed, suddenly and calmly,

honest, pure and original, 

-  secluded inhabitants, entrusted by destiny -

to start a new world.

Let time stop, give this dream a lot of rope,

like the new toy we get for Christmas.

Don’t be lost the magic, take root in the ground, 

bathe in the water that blesses, baptizes and revives.

Let it be heir to the best of our stories,

the best of our hopes.

 

Published in Subterranean Blue Poetry volume IX, issue III, March 2021.

Translated into French (Réécriter le Paradis) and published in Poésie Bleue Souterraine, March 2021.

Edilson Afonso Ferreira, 78 years, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than in Portuguese. Widely published in selected international literary journals in print and online, he began writing at age 67, after his retirement from a bank. Since then, he counts 181 poems published, in 287 different publications. Has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize 2017, and his first Poetry Collection, Lonely Sailor - One Hundred Poems - was launched in London in 2018.  His second book “Joie de Vivre – Caressing our Joy”, with fifty new poems, has been launched in April 2022.  He is always updating his works at www.edilsonmeloferreira.com.