sábado, janeiro 04, 2014

poetry

Noli me tangere
                              for he

- Noli me tangere
said the one who loved
Yet
hands would touch the leper
lips would kiss the plagued
arms would comfort the undeserving

- Noli me tangere
Could it be?
That from the bread
broken to abundance
now only the coveted crumbs?
That from the wine
split to satiation
now only the putrid taste?

The flower too.
- Touch-me-not
say the leaves shutting.
Mimosa Pudica
sentenced the botanist
washing his hands.
Yet
does she not blossom with no shame?
does she not spread across the prairie
colour, grace and eagerness?

- Noli me tangere
touch me not
says the one who loves
from inside the labyrinth.



 Coffee in no man's land
                                   for he
Once
or twice
I had coffee in no man's land.
A place stolen from debris
fragile and shaky
and narrowing each minute.

Oh, don't fool yourselves -
none of the mystery of romance.
Just coffee in no man's land
no esplanades
or their witty chat and provocations
no terraces
or their gazing lovers under the rain.
Just this coffee
made express for the occasion
no rush, no lingering
just the just of no man's land.

It's shrinking now
And soon it will be walls
and pictures and smiles
and dried tears and talk
and music and hearts beating.

And who wouldn't change
a no man's land for that?
Oh, and don't fool yourselves -
there'll be more coffee poured
because that's what people do
because there's really no bad coffee.
      While I tidy my no man's land.






The Queen is dead

In the chess board
pieces move
without thinking
of the moves
that are
thought
for them.

One pawn
corners a bishop,
yet another
takes him
- Did I? How fun!

A horse gallops
in threes,
a tower
sweeps
to the other field
- How dashing!

The King and the Queen?
Well, that's another thing:
You see, he wears a cross
and can not move too fast,
She's to come and go,
light as laughter,
high as spirit.

The daring
the flight,
the stronger
the king
she vowed
to protect.

But think a doubt
and see her forget
bring her a cloud
and see her fret
erratic and dazed
her aim is gone
the king's a haze
the moves a chore
he calls and cries
she shuts and lies
he sighs and tries and asks for whys
she breaks the ties with ever dry eyes

he falls and dies

Broken in two
the chess pieces
still retain soul
wonder and grace
to a sight
that was longing to see
a touch
that was longing to reach

And for a moment
a flash
a thunder
two
where there were pieces
so split in many pieces
for a second
an instant
a clap
two
as one  as kingdom
as secret  as revelation.

The board is a mess
old bishops rule now
and every pawn's a spy
all trying to make
black blacker
white whiter.

Of course,
they made the cross heavier
but the king can lift it higher
made the eye cry,
but water can make it clearer.

And a kind of fragile now
seems
to be born
to be celebrated
to be protected.

The queen's
another thing
the queen's
a witness
the queen's
between
is and was.