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Amauri Solon - 2


Under Construction

​And 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 Haiku

a 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 Streets

There 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 Haiku

the 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
​

​                 ♢
Picture
                                                                            
Amauri Solon's profile
Go to page 1 of Amauri Solon's poetry

The Silent Sound of My Soul

I 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 Owl

First 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 Cricket

A 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 Collection

two 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
​

Go to page 1 of Amauri Solon's's poetry

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