Lost At Sea: by Anna Mosca

*

I had the feeling

I had been lost at sea

just for a few weeks

.

if weeks count as

years having no sweet

food or drink just

.

overcoming the waves

withstand the wind patience

unfolded under the sun

.

one morning  – passing by

a mirror – not able to

recognize myself

.

*

ho avuto la sensazione

d’esser stata naufraga persa

nel mare qualche settimana

 .

se le settimane contano

come anni senza cibo

o acqua dolce solo

 .

le onde da superare

sopportando il vento la pazienza

spiegata sotto il sole

.

una mattina – passando

davanti a uno specchio –

incapace di riconoscermi

.

To listen to the poet’s reading of this poem in English click on the audio below:
 
You  can read more of Anna Mosca’s “California Notebooks” by clicking HERE.
Leggi più dei “quaderni californiani” di Anna Mosca QUI.

FORCE OF WATER: by Lee Elsesser

For Lyle Waldron
Green River Fly Fishing Guide

Behind the fifty story dam
in the ninety mile reservoir,
deep in the storied canyons
its moving waters carved when
inner earth raised the Uintas,
the ancient Rio Verde lies at rest.

At the curving concrete wall
the imprisoned waters lap, as if
they hold a memory of power and now
bestilled, restored, clear and cold,
seek once more the freedom to flow,
to wear again the title “river.”

In the dampness and muted roar
two thousand cubic feet per second
of lake surging into motion leaves
hanging in the morning air, a boatman
drops his weight into the rear seat
of a watercraft of wonderful design.

The curved bottomed drift boat responds,
slipping the grip of its transport and
sliding gracefully into the eddy. Now
three elements of adventure are joined:
the river, the boat, and the boatman
in the Red Canyon of the Flaming Gorge.

On currents deep and almost clear as air
they will follow the easterly course
the Green River cut five million years ago,
between cliffs of bent and folded stone
layered in time like pages of a calendar, under
a sky where ospreys glide and eagles soar.

There will be others on the float,
always others in the boat.
For them, trout fishing makes the day.
From them, the boatman takes his pay.
For that, he demonstrates his skill
on waters swift and waters still.

On long flats and slower runs, fishermen
float tiny nymphs on hair-thin tippets
where the trout hang in submarine flotillas.
When the waters quicken, where the canyon narrows,
the river lifts swells like molten glass
that slide unbroken under the white water boil.

There, in the rapids, the drift boat glides
like a dry quarter moon battered in a stormy sky,
into a torrent where men have died, trapped
by the force of water. The man with the oars
touches the river, a stroke, a thrust, redirects
the force, turns the boat on its center to safe water.

Through the day, beneath the stony gaze of faces
trapped in the rocky cliffs, faces that watched
Powell and Ashley pass, the same dance goes on.
Finesse versus force, practice against power,
timing in a torrent, a waterborne ballet choreographed by the river’s moving stage.

At take out, the fishermen case rods and reels,
review the beauty of fish and foliage, both painted in the season’s burnished gold. The boatman releases
his craft from the river’s grasp and winches it up
onto its wheeled transport. He pauses to watch
an osprey pair winging along the now empty stream.

The waters that bore his boat today are gone,
rolling on to swallow the Yampa,to merge
with the force of the mighty Colorado, to reach
beyond its famous canyons to the western sea.
There, to start again the unchanging cycle,
tossing wave to drifting cloud to snowflake falling.

The guide, his boat ungainly on its trailer,
follows the familiar mountain trail that will
take him home and his clients to their lodging.
For the second time today he crosses the high dam,
where in the lake’s chill depths, clear and still,
powerful and impatient, tomorrow’s river waits.

Lee Elsesser
Fort Worth, Texas

To hear Lee’s reading of this poem, click the arrow on the player below:

To hear readings of more poetry by Lee Elsesser, click HERE.

One More Soundless Day: by Anna Mosca

*

wishing for one more

soundless day

.

swimming quietly

at the bottom of

a sea of written words

.

squealing and chirping

if any outside

.

the time held

between night

.

and day between

sleep and awakening

.

*

desidero un altro

giorno silenzioso

 .

per nuotare tranquilla

sul fondale di un mare

di parole scritte

 .

stridii e cinguettii

– ve ne fossero – fuori

.

il tempo sospeso

tra la notte

.

e il giorno tra

il sonno e la veglia

.

To listen to the poet’s reading of this poem in English click on the audio below: 
You  can read more of Anna Mosca’s “California Notebooks” by clicking HERE.
Leggi più dei “quaderni californiani” di Anna Mosca QUI.

Compare Love To Water: by Anna Mosca

The English version of this poem has disappeared, listen to the author’s reading below or enjoy reading it in Italian:

*

confronta l’amore

con l’acqua

 .

nelle sue tante

manifestazioni

.

solido e fluido

nebuloso e etereo

.

che sale e poi scende

senza mai smettere

.

d’esistere sempre

.

presente in una maniera

o nell’altra

Listen to the poem by clicking on the audio player below:
You  can read more of Anna Mosca’s “California Notebooks” by clicking HERE.
Leggi più dei “quaderni californiani” di Anna Mosca QUI.

Au Cimetière du Père-Lachaise: by John Looker

It’s not for the grave of Oscar Wilde we’ve come,

nor Chopin or Marcel Proust, though many do –

as if a photo of oneself against the tomb,

grinning, would give their works the honour due.

Turning our backs on this we have a view

right across Paris from up here on this ridge:

morning shines on the Seine and on the roofs

and life rushes on, just water under a bridge.

.

.

.

Enjoy more poetry by John Looker on his blog HERE

John has also recently published an excellent collection of poetry entitled: “The Human Hive” with Bennison Books

THE ARKANSAS: by Lee Elsesser

The written poem has disappeared. To hear Lee’s reading of this poem, click the arrow on the player below:

To hear readings of more poetry by Lee Elsesser, click HERE.