Enza Salpietro, a poet and writer from Catania, Sicily-Italy, shares her five poems

Enza Salpietro is a poet and writer from Catania (Sicily-Italy). She graduated in Modern Literature at the University of Catania and lives in the province of Catania. She published four books: Poesie Furbe (Kubera Edizioni), L’Antico drawing (Kubera Edizioni), Il Venditore di parole (CTL Edizioni) and Terra Nera (Nonsolopoesie Edizioni). Sicily is present in all of her books, its atmospheres, its scents, its beauties, its natural riches. She currently works as an editor and proofreader.

THE FLOWERS’ POWER

I saw her and stopped

I took a few steps back

I tried to catch its good smell

Galeotta was the rose and its color

I lingered and took her

My gaze from the exit turned

My intention to leave has gone up in smoke

Galeotta was the rose and its perfume

***

IN LIFE

Meet up

Among the moments scattered by time

That flows quickly and mercilessly

Chasing the trail of lightning.

Stop up

One step away from the wind

Among the straight grass that imposes itself

Faced with a new torment.

To look

With incredulous and new eyes

Discovering an ancient soul

In which you find yourself a little.

***

 Life

That you have always denied yourself

You smile and want her to be grateful

For the flowering tree that listens

From the little blackbird his serenade.

***

OLD POET

Old poet

You look around…

And you see a crowd

Without faces.

You smile…

But true!  –

A rare event!

You don’t find feedback

In many tight lips.

Do you weren’t a poet?

You have become it

Why did you understand…!

This world’s too much false

To queue you up.

So… like an empty room

You filled your life

Of strong feelings

And of thoughts careful.

Poet of a moment,

Soldier of your life,

From withered nothing

You found a way out.

And you look passionate

To that rarity… but

The mask will fall,

The trick will go away…

And nothing, nothing, nothing

Will remain.

***

MARCH 2020

The world has stopped

You keep in mind

“Never again the agglomeration”.

The enemy is pretty tough

Be quick to leave the crowd.

And I see only one future

Among many scattered houses

In large green spaces

The smell of burnt branches.

Published under International Cooperation with "Sindh Courier"