Maria A Miraglia – Puppets

Maria Miraglia LEP&W V3 Dec 2022

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Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume Three December 2022.

Puppets, poems by Maria A. Miraglia.


Sitting on the stone of time
I let the hours go by

the moment
not to be guided as a dead leaf
by the winds
to look beyond
I told my heart to shut up
and turned on the light of the mind

A brushstroke of grey
turned off the bright colours
of day and night
erased from the sky
shades of pink
the nuances of gold and blue
reclined the flower corollas
in the fields
as if united by the same pain
and the cries of the birds
in the skies
weren’t joyful

Puppets the passers-by
moved by invisible hands
bizarre and stiff the grimaces,
painted in bright colours
on their wooden faces
always the same
which created a strange contrast
with their legs in constant motion
in an attempt to touch the ground
how sad a sight
I said to myself
while feeling the desire to go back
open my eyes to the sunlight
that so much dazzles
and so much hides

Without knowing where

The sky changes its colours
the fields are dressed in white
and then green
as I go
in search of meanings

I look around
as if unknown voices
spoke to me
each from different directions
from paths winding
towards dark places
some say
defend the weak and the oppressed
but no
leave it be
others shout
men always the same
it all began with Cain

I stop
and almost closely
I hear someone whispering
only knowledge
leads away
but I realize that
the wise are forgotten
and live wretched lives

some music comes from afar
where men dance
sweating in their coloured shirts
and fair and dark-haired women
with flamboyant clothes
skirts with pinned red
and yellow flowers
come with us
they shout at me
Carpe Diem
what is life
if you don’t let yourself go

A holy field

The colours of twilight
slow are spreading into the light blue
of the sky
over a holy field
where small avenues
are lined with cypresses
that sway in the blows of the wind
here and there
tombs marked by time

A white light
from a marble headstone
distracts my lonely going
I turn to look
behind that lamp
the image of a child
the sweet face with curls
that fall on his forehead
his eyes seem to be staring at me
as if to call for help
I stop there for just a moment
just the time to tell me
what was to be
has already been
and with slow steps
I resume my journey
towards the small path
on the left side of the church
a bunch of tulips
she so much loved
still clasped to my chest
and a red rose
they are there waiting
while the wind blows away the last leaves

© Maria A. Miraglia

Educationist, poet, translator, essayist and peace activist Maria A. Miraglia was born in Italy, where she lives. For a long time, an active member of Amnesty International, a member of Ican, the Observatory for Human rights, and the president of the World Foundation for Peace. Dr Maria Miraglia is a founding member and Literary Director of the Italian Cultural Association Pablo Neruda, honorary member of Naciones Unidas de las Letras, Columbia; Presidente de la Organization Mundial de Los Trovatores, Chile; Director cum Chief Executive Office for Vibes- India, Vice president of IWA Bodgani, Kossovo; member of several more international editorial boards. Author of works in Italian, English or both languages, her poems have been translated into many languages. Her recent anthology is Colored Butterflies, 2022. She is a recipient of several recognitions and awards. Recent her election to the European Academy of Science and Arts.

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