Amauri Solon - 2
Under ConstructionAnd then there was
earth, sun, wind and rain Under the fertile soil coiled thousands of iron wires and pain And then there was me, you, them and hunger Under the dry ground hundreds of starving hounds howled And then there was clay, bricks, stones and anger Under the roof people clung to each other trying hard to survive And then there was space and time and void Under the sky birds and reptiles fly aimlessly And then there was just me, newly born and a storm Under my head body, arms and legs thorn bleeding And then there was nothing more but my inner core Under the surface a furnace ever burning coal and fire Nothing more to be said nor heard or felt Under construction it all fled steadly ahead Edible Haikua bee
shares my honey-- on the apfelstrudel a toad in the hole not in my backyard on my table sunny morning a parrot calls for banana in the neighbor's yard guava for breakfast a seed is crawling says the little girl hotdog with ketchup a brand new stain on my shirt goulash, I ask for the third day in a row-- Budapest a long row of beef ribs gaucho barbecue as in my best dreams chimarrão and churrasco my gaucho uncle still in my habits the noise of frying pans in my grandmother's kitchen-- french fries paradox in Rio under the scorching sun boiling black beans: feijoada In the StreetsThere was a poet
in the busy street downtown He was silently handing out his poetry amidst noisy passers-by I visited him once twice on the third visit we talked shared poems and smiled He said: passers-by pass by and stop at my eyes never come in Poets in the streets are stones thrown away to infinity breaking windows and glass I met a poet in the street shyly handing out poetry amidst shrieking cars and people I stood by him and handed out his poetry and we both started singing out our poetry Passers-by passed hastily away stoping at our eyes sometimes but never coming in Five Night Haikuthe cry of an owl echoed
in our bed my son murmurs - stay here, dad unable to sleep I amble through the garden - night blooming cestrum a lazy dog keeps me company - he stops at a street lamp, not me soon after lights are gone I invite her - Shall we dance Moonlight Serenade? if I were a humming-bird I would kiss this late blooming flower ♢ |
The Silent Sound of My SoulI only know it is
silent because I cannot hear it It is a loud, thick silence Every time I try to listen to it it is always the same loud, thick silence It wakes me up when I try to sleep and in my sleep it becomes louder and thicker Listen, listen now! Can you hear it? Can you not? Attention-- Listen again! Can you hear it? Can you not? This silence crushes me when I am awake bottom up side to side head to toes this heavy, loud silence always crushes me when I am awake There is a ruffling quality in this silence it always bothers me I know it is there when I feel this ruffling quality this ruffling quality of my soul's silence The OwlFirst I heard it
A hooting sound Then, it said Who-o-o who-o-o I'm coming Said I A whistle A hissing sound I whistled back A screech? The wind The rusty hinges Of the barn Gate? Then I saw it The big grey Horned owl Sitting On the barn gate It was not the hinges The gate was still The owl Was screeching Now Looking at me With piercing Wide-open eyes Still As was I Then It opened wide Yards long wide Wings And flew To me Dust shone In the moon light And a warm gust Of breeze Struck my face I stood still The owl Sat on my head Grabbed my hair My scalp And we flew Together Moon bound The CricketA cricket
called my attention not to mention what it spoke to me —Whenever you weep over unfulfilled dreams call me over and I'll cric- cric to you A cricket hopped twice just in front of me it caught my sight as it might again speak to me And so it did —Whenever you are sorry for unfulfilled doings call me over and I'll double cric to you I could see no cricket hopping around me but for my delight during all that night double crics were heard inside of me But I knew what they meant Sorrow crept over my heart and I wept all night long Small Things: A Haiku Collectiontwo ladybugs
in an old match box - I miss my past a forgotten overcoat - in the pockets I find dried forget-me-nots rusty fishhooks - I still carry with me dad's wooden box buttons and needles - to my surprise grandaughter shows her treasure she blinks her left eye fast as a humming-bird I blink back - our flirtation a purse collapses open - miriad of beauty-gadgets spread on the floor pocketknife and a mini-flashlight - the boy's trade happens in a second |