Iolanda Scripca, US

 

 

An Ekphrastic Poem   Buried Secret     Where the seagull dies... Stringless origami cries Loneliness of Soul Koi fish suffocate Colors fade in Bonsai trees Island in distress Words not understood Shadows grin tricks on rice walls Tsunamis in eyes Geisha of the world Love is lost in illusions Freedom is her dream Men with cold fingers Whither blossom of her spring... Harakiri end... In the seagull's grave Origami secrets kept Chicks learn how to fly... www.scripca.com     I - My Imaginary Friend   I wake up in a bath of sweat I am late starting my journey Weightless clothes hide my being Protect the skin from reality, my reality The garage door shuts up in a rearview mirror There is nothing else but emptiness The rose bushes prune themselves For an artificial Californian winter Dislocated trees pretend to whither genetically Along the street I slide encapsulated in soundproof I ride in a bath of distorted forms Cannot figure out why the street ends up in stairs I merge in a one-way freeway with ends of marine layers Curious eyes greet somber, slow and mute police lights I am finally free to fly and collapse in the Pacific Slapped by wreaths with my name in purple * A three year old with ash blonde hair jumps up her beach towel She runs towards the ocean in an excited déjà vu I grab me with my two little hands and smile at my regenerated youth An obsessive dream re-occurring - our street ending up in stairs… Again and again…     Ekphrastic Haiga—Life's Humor