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Just like Theatrical Seasons
There is a world waiting for its time to happen.
It waits, attentive to the counterpoint marker,
its turn to enter the scene.
Eyes open, anonymous among the spectators,
an envoy, an emissary, and a plenipotentiary
of the author of the play, so that each speech,
each act, mainly unkind and wicked ones,
do not become lost.
The author, at home and even more anonymous,
did not want to witness the event, surely regretful
and disconsolate of the rawness at times
he could not avoid the unfolding of the plot.
And so different worlds overlap on the stage,
at its due and exact time.
The author, yet aware he portrayed real life,
in his forced retreat,
his decaffeinated coffee and non-alcoholic beer,
a cloistered five o’clock tea,
a sad and lonely heart. © Edilson A. Ferreira
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| Edilson A. Ferreira |
Edilson A. Ferreira, 81, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese. He has launched two poetry books, Lonely Sailor and Joie de Vivre, and has published 300 works in various international literary journals. Has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He began writing at the age of 67 after retiring from a bank.
In fact, I believe that, in this poem, I wanted to draw an analogy between the role of the writer, who knows he must portray real life, often cruel and merciless, and our good and compassionate God, who guides us (often just acompanies us - see free will) through the journeys of each one of us
ReplyDeleteMeus parabéns meu pai! ✅💯
ReplyDeleteThank you, my son Alexandre!
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