Seeds of respect, like drops of dew, planted in furrows of love,
irrigation of patience, a slow spring that soothes the dry earth.
The sun of justice, a warm golden embrace, shelters its growth,
and the breeze of honesty, a fresh whisper, makes its leaves wave.
The aroma of moist and fresh earth permeates the air.
Roots of empathy, thick and deep like arms that embrace the earth, sink into the fertile soil,
sprouts of humility, tender and green like spring shoots, in a garden of wild flowers that dance in the wind.
Flowers of kindness, petals soft as velvet, of a radiant color like the dawn, open their petals to the sun,
fruits of perseverance, hard and shiny like precious stones, a treasure without equal. Its sweetness is felt on the palate, a taste of honey and triumph.
The abundant harvest, a field of golden sunflowers under an intense blue sky, of a promised future,
values sown, seeds that beat with a deep echo in the heart, in the soul.
A legacy that grows, strong and robust like a century-old oak, with strength and vigor,
leaving a sowing of values, a palpable legacy, with the weight of history and the bright future that it promises, for a better world.
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
i move about a skeleton in a coat of ghosts beneath an old blue place people stop to say hello even offer hugs i smile & sometimes even a laugh comes out they don’t know i’m 3 parts ghost it’s all a show b/c everyone who really made me smile is gone they’re ghosts i wear around me like a cloak & when i’m in my room alone all i do is i cry listening to songs that make me remember all i’ve lost a skeleton w/ tear ducts from when i was alive & today they pass me & smile they don’t know my grin is a frown in disguise even when we shake hands they don’t notice my grip is all bone cuffs of ghosts at my wrists i’m just a skeleton in a coat of ghosts moving about beneath an old blue place
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suspended in the night
i woke in the wee hours of the night my arm numb from sleeping on it & i thought how we bring things into existence w/ our reins of vessels & circling blood & slim branches of nerves, etc… & while my arm slowly came back to life i lay there in silence straddling both worlds the unscrambled one & one of total nothingness the latter, of course my better acquaintance
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a visitation
i met my mother the day after her father suddenly died in the street 8 years before i was born she was in the laundrymat across the street from our old apartment in brooklyn asking herself out loud how dare the dryers spin? the machines turn? don’t they know that my father’s gone? & i was there next to her folding my clothes on a long white table twice her age i gave her my condolences i told her my mother died on a sunny day in june while the baseball game played loud on the hospital tv while i was there in the room & i asked the sun to stop what it was doing just for a moment but it kept on shining she stared at me as if she knew something said she was sorry & thank you & then looked away watching the towels lift & drop in the little round window & i picked up my basket & walked out into the blaze of my dream
Green butterflies in faces of bursting disappointments,
Flies among the white swans through the groves
The late silk of the grass is torn to shreds
Pollen that it spreads with honor over the pearl.
In the synapses they wave their lascivious gaze
Like crows peck at the granary
Eternal offering by deposition at the altars
Forgetting the dew that love knew.
A singing artisan bird
From the secular Linden, amazed, admires them
The sleeping grove naturally hides the path,
Under its white mantle the Earth breathes.
They are not green butterflies but swift snowdrops
Under the rays of the sun the good ones emerge.
BIOGRAPHY
Lidia Popa was born in Romania in the locality of Piatra Șoimului, in the county of Neamț, on 16th April, 1964. She finished her studies in Piatra Neamț, Romania with a high school diploma and other administrative courses, where she worked until she decided to emigrate to Italy.
She has been living for 23 years and worked in Rome as part of the wave of intellectual emigrants since the fall of the Berlin Wall.
She wrote her first poem at her age of seven. She is a poet, essayist, storyteller, recognized in Italy and in other countries for her literary activities. She collaborates with cultural associations, literary cenacles, literary magazines and paper and online publications of Romanian, Italian and international literature. She writes in Romanian, Italian and also in other languages as an exercise in knowledge.
BOOKS
She has published her poems in six books:
in Italy:
1. ” Point different ( to be ) ” – ed. Italian and
2.” In the den of my thoughts ( Dacia ) ” – ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian AlettiEditore 2016,
4. ” The soul of words” ed. bilingual Romanian/ Albanian Amanda Edit Verlag 2021,
5.” Syntagms with longing for clover ” ed. Romanian, EdituraMinela 2021.
6.” The Voice interior ” LidiaPopa and BakiYmeri ed. bilingual Romanian/Italian, Amanda Edit Verlag 2022.
Her poems featured in more than 50 literary anthologies and literary magazines on line from 2014 to 2023 in Italy, Romania, Spain, Canada, Serbia, Bangladesh, United Kingdom, Liban,USA,etc.
Her poems are translated into Italian, French, English, Spanish, Arabic, German, Bangladesh, Portuguese, Serbian, Urdu, Dari, Tamil, etc.
Her writings are published regularly with some magazines in Romania, Italy and abroad.
She is a promoter of Romanian, Italian and international literature, and is part of the juries of the competitions.
She translates from classical or contemporary authors who strike for the refinement and quality of their verses in the languages: Italian, Romanian, English, Spanish, French, German, stating that “it is just a writing exercise to learn and evolve as a person with love for humanity, for art, poetry and literature “.
SHE IS
*Member of the Italian Federation of Writers (FUIS)
*Honorary member of the International Literary Society Casa PoeticaMagia y Plumas Republic of Colombia,
*Member of Hispanomundial Union of Writers (Union Hispanomundial de Escritores) (UHE) and Thousands Minds For Mexico (MMMEX)
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*She had come power of attorney Vice-president UHE Romania, Mars18, 2021- August 21, 2021
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*Counselor from Italy for Suryodaya Literary Foundation Odisha India,
*Director from Italy for Alìanza Cultural Universal (ACU) Argentina
*Member Motivational Strips Oman,a member of numerous other literary groups at the level internationally,
*Director of Poetry and Literature World Vision Board of Directors (PLWV) Bangladesh
*Membership of ANGEENA INTERNATIONAL NON PROFIT ORGANISATION of Canada
International Peace Ambassador of The Daily Global Nation International Independent Newspaper from Dhaka Bangladesh – 2023
*Founder literary group Lido dell’anima with LIDO DELL’ANIMA AWARDS
*Founder LIDO DELL’ANIMA Italian magazine
*Founder SILVAE VERBORUM INTERNATIONAL multilingual magazine
