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

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

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1.

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

.

sembrava

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

.

2.

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

.

Growing

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with poems I color

my emotions of new hues

stretch the perimeters

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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

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the most soft of nests

I am watching myself

growing with as I create

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Can You See

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right in the middle

someone turned off

—— my light

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since I have this feeling

.

of disconnect

of not getting what’s going on

of abiding dark

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can you see please

what

I am going through

.

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Kind Words

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what if I told you

to send me water

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as everyone is

busy sending me light

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may healing come

without parching

in a bath of light

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as well as sipping

in all the water

.

I need to stand

tall once more

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Hospital Time

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in silence

is solace

is healing

.

in silence

sleeps comes

taking me places

.

while my healing

is weaved inside

my wounded body

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silence is planning

my next steps to

warn off the enemy

.

that came inside

as shift as a thief

the cancerous cells

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Children Asleep

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how many times

have I tried to

describe the

feeling of

tenderness

arising in me

in a poem

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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

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The Great Unknown

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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

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yet surrender

like a fish’s body in

stormy waters.

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⁃ for what I know

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that may be safe

to let the invisible pull me

while trusting fate

.

Light

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approaching the day
with dancing
thoughts

to linger in god’s
presence
light

that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber

.

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hipstamaticphoto-536258305.451797-1

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This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02

Black Rim

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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

communication

.

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

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the new territory

I found myself on

.

this not knowing

all I could know

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waiting long days

molding thoughts

.

making the dark

ones captive

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feeling your body

changing under

your finger tips

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