Author Archives: anna mosca

About anna mosca

Artist, poet, photographer, reader, lover, walker, traveler. Feeling in wilderness. Been writing lots of poetry, taking less pictures, teaching a whole lot, traveling less than usual, loving more than allowed, riding public city bikes and not planes, puzzled over paintings. Beside all those forms I am.

La mia stanza


Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian poetry. Tuesday posts will be in English.



l’albero in fondo

alla mia stanza d’ospedale

ha preso la forma

della seta l’acqua non lo raggiungeva

io ignara passeggiavo

fino a che ho visto



malattia ma penso sia

solo la sete


⁃ la vicina strepitava

⁃ insulti verso me a voce altissima

⁃ che non le sono mai piaciuta


come anelo a distanze

galattiche dagli esseri umani

preoccupati dal niente

brutti fino in fondo



la mia stanza d’ospedale

dove sto avanzando

nella mia convalescenza

è tutta verde e viva

piena di silenzio e voci senza suoni

danza parla e si muove


mi accoglie mentre esploro

e mentre verso la poca cura

che posso mentre io abbraccio

con gli occhi e con il cuore

sono con me in questa stanza

chiamata giardino di casa

gatti uccelli ricci e insetti


salvo chi posso mentre avanzo

passi nella culla verde

che cammina con me

verso la guarigione o forse

verso la morte ancora non so


la pace che colgo

prepara la mia anima

per entrambe





with poems I color

my emotions of new hues

stretch the perimeters


grasp a dreamed story

giving it legitimacy

the gifts are shared


my soul’s eyes scan

the air around of me

the breath of God


the most soft of nests

I am watching myself

growing with as I create


Can You See



right in the middle

someone turned off

—— my light


since I have this feeling


of disconnect

of not getting what’s going on

of abiding dark


can you see please


I am going through



Kind Words



what if I told you

to send me water


as everyone is

busy sending me light


may healing come

without parching

in a bath of light


as well as sipping

in all the water


I need to stand

tall once more


Hospital Time



in silence

is solace

is healing


in silence

sleeps comes

taking me places


while my healing

is weaved inside

my wounded body


silence is planning

my next steps to

warn off the enemy


that came inside

as shift as a thief

the cancerous cells


Children Asleep



how many times

have I tried to

describe the

feeling of


arising in me

in a poem


as I walked the

garden at night

at dusk or through

cloudy days when

your little heads

are reclined all

closed down as


children asleep


the daisies would

not hear me

nearing them

a motherless

woman being

the greatest

mother of all


The Great Unknown



the great unknown

isn’t death I fear

to do harm to my body

this I fear indeed

to make poor choices

given what others say

not to discern my best


yet surrender

like a fish’s body in

stormy waters.


⁃ for what I know


that may be safe

to let the invisible pull me

while trusting fate





approaching the day
with dancing

to linger in god’s

that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber





This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02

Black Rim



I walk around my

small land where trees

abound and I have

a restlessness this year

I never had as if

my garden and I have lost



but I attend the land a lot


I sit waiting as at

the bed of a sick child to

whom nobody hands

water exhausted

I tighten my hands one

with the other in

silent pain I look down


to the aging skin

to the black rim under

my nails its dirt

sticking to me my garden’s

way to hold onto me



The New Territory



the new territory

I found myself on


this not knowing

all I could know


waiting long days

molding thoughts


making the dark

ones captive


feeling your body

changing under

your finger tips