Photo is by Lydia Bellostick
Bio :
Marilyne Bertoncini, poet, translator, critic, co-director of Recours au poème, collaborates to poetry magazines, and animates jeudidesmots.com – 14 collections and about fifteen translations published, the latest are Il Libro di Sabbia (Bertoni éd. Italy, 2022), Aub'ombre/alb'ombra (bilingual – PVST 2022), La Plume d'Ange (chemins de Plume 2022), La Noyée d'Onagawa (Jacques André , 2020, 1st prize, Quai en Poésie 2021) and Soleil Hésitant, by Gili Haimovich, (translated from English, Jacques André, 2021)
Rapunzel – ouranswer
Marilyne Bertoncini
Remember the ladder of her long haircoming down the tower
standing without stairs or door in the heart of a forest
The long braided hair down to the ground
which served as a ladder to reach her.
Remember Rapunzel' ssong,
just like a nightingalelocked in its cage
his song hoisting to the sky histhirst for freedom
hisdesire of life and his strength.
Ah, you can veilRapunzel'shair
you can cutthem like the witchdid
Every woman resists secretly in herheart
anticipates the gesture, throws the veil to the fire
and breathless lysings the song of rebellion
One should never over look the moral of the tales –
Rapunzel is Women'sResponse to Oppression
And nothing stops them, these perennial rapunzels
walking to get hertowards the future -
My sisters whose pain is the yeast of revolution.
*
Hair in the wind
The treetopscomb the wind
thewind caresses the hair of the branches
and the fleece of the grass
The windis free and sings
in the disheveledhair of the forests
it touches as it passes the heads of the primroses
or lingers a moment to pick up the perfume
of star jasmine on the gardenwall
The windbrings to the stars the song of the earth,
itruffles the comets, spins the planets
and the wholeuniversesingsalongwith the wind
The windis free and singswhenwomen'shair
are blooming flowers in the sun of life.
*
Atlas
On the world map
the child discovers the pretty coloreds hapes
of a complicated puzzle
that men call “country”.
The linesthatdelimitthem,
men call them “borders”.
But the birdthattravels the world onlysees
theblueocean and the green of the forests
And the man who looks at it
justsees one only sky
protecting all of us
withhismantle of blue.
Marilyne Bertoncini
*
Borders
I like to lay my forehead against yours
feelourmergingthoughts
abolishing the border of our bodies
perfect union
androgynous
unity
of the primordial orange
.
Between the world and me, the line issothin
just a layer of epidermis
sensitive to caress
and sensitive to pain
delicate and protective
my skin against the world’s
Myforeheadagainst the thin
crystalblade of the windowpane
standingbetween the world and me.
Mybreath on the glass
drawshazyclouds,
the world is getting blurry
like a fading dream
Also published there https://homouniversalisgr.blogspot.com/
