Thursday, 14 December 2017

F Fic, Non-fic

Poetry By Edilson Afonso Ferreira

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The Christ I Love More.

 

We surely must follow Christ, learn from Him,

unquestionable Master of love and tolerance.

Son of God, yet a brother, He bequeathed us

divine words and deeds that survive forever.

The way He loved us, so great and pure,

no one had or has ever equally leveled.

His sacrifice on behalf of humanity,

that of then and of coming times,

unworthy and infidel ones, perhaps,

just by this, 

took Him to redeem us from bitter destiny.   

But, aside from His Divinity, His Grandeur,

do not forget the passage of Mathew 21-12,

when He entered the temple of His Father.

Then, not by a converse or dialogue; there,

“He cast ought all them that sold and bought”,

 “overthrew the tables of the moneychangers”.

I love this Christ, so human and so brother,

Who did not conceal his anger, as one of us.

By now, in our time, to honor our Lord, 

we have failed to call out one Saint Fury,

like that of our Savior.

 

 

Silent Witnesses.

 

It is common our disputes about this and that.

Really, almost daily, we are at opposite sides.

Friends say we are not well-settled a couple,

and so misjudgment, I know, hurt us equally.

In the deeps of night, standing awake in bed,

I look at you asleep and feel all friends’ error.

Who would bear testimony of us, I ask myself.

Walls and roofs by sure know our inmost life

but they do not speak, are invalid witnesses.

I ask them if just to me would they say of us. 

They say of our confronts, furies, rough words

and revilements but also remember hugs and

hot kisses. Likewise, remember have listened     

some words like it is cold out, dear, wear your

coat or don’t be late, darling, some little things

only beloved ones are capable to.

They say we are at hard and arduous a battle,  

on pursuing, although scarce, a bit of true love. 

They also say to keep the route and fear nothing.

Tiles and bricks, indeed, they are, but perceive

unlike my best friends, the very plot of the play. 


Mr. Ferreira is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese in order to reach more people. Has been published in four small printed British Anthologies, online or printed reviews in Canada, USA and Israel and short-listed in four American Poetry Contests. Lives in a smal town with wife (for 35 years), three sons and a granddaughter and is seventy years old. Began to write after retirement as a Bank Manager.

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