Beggars, their frayed stares | Gabriella Garofalo

Beggars, their frayed stares, 
Dramatic skies she loves so much-
Oh, and did that old maverick, Ulysses, 
Show you the force of words, of slant lights, 
And hidden scars misled in a symbiotic catharsis, 
Rapt with all the shenanigans of young feelings 
That never realise the importance
Of spinning it nice and sweet, or the shadowy cant-
But the dance they dream of is so distant,
Particularly when you think you are 
An uncharted land ready to be explored:
Even the slightest blades can still run you through,
No matter if a shattering move
Stalks the moon sprawling in her light,
As they give you back what you lent them,
Clocks, and planners looking like hooligans,
As even foliage feels it’s time 
To call a sharp green names, or wild rhythms-
As your sky feels daring, 
If you settle on relapsing into his womb,
After looking at white lights dancing the night away-
Look, since when you are familiar 
With light, mood swings, dazzle?
You're just a soul, it’s she who discards light,
With her marauding hands she breaks tricks, and tangles:
Fear, while rejection, and your craving for life 
Fight fire with fire, the first glance askew
Will set the outcome, anyway don’t kid yourself,
You have no immunity, my soul,
If heaven clutters up the slate with henchmen 
In a weird attire, those clouds always chafing at the bit,
Their wild sneers upsetting nights.

Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of these books “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Casa di erba”; “Blue Branches”; “ A Blue Soul”, “After The Blue Rush”.