EMERGE, quadro di ROSE RITSON TRENWITH, Auckland, Nuova Zelanda


(copyright dell'artista)



One way to go in

one way to go out

both narrow.

The door stands ajar

the exit way

angels point

at the clock

over the doorway

fiends block the way

an archangel appears

from the clockface

the devil

gathers his army

 too late

my angel

gives a deadly injection

for new life

to help me leave

quicker by the doorway

which narrows

to just my size

and I push the door open

with  a slow sigh.



Una  sola via per entrare

una sola  via per uscire

tutte e due strette.

La porta è socchiusa

verso la via di uscita

angeli indicano


sopra l’ingresso

demoni bloccano il passo

un arcangelo appare

dal quadrante dell’orologio

il diavolo

raccoglie il suo esercito

                            troppo tardi

il mio angelo

inietta la morte

in cambio di una vita nuova

per aiutarmi ad andarmene

più velocemente attraverso il passaggio

che si restringe

giusto giusto  per me

e io spalanco la porta

con un sospiro lento.

Translated by: LIDIA   CHIARELLI


LIGHT BRINGER, quadro e poesia di ROSE RITSON TRENWITH, Auckland, Nuova Zelanda


(copyright dell'artista)



Light Bringer


Rose Ritson Trenwith

 What is my job?

What is my place?

A question that I ask and often face

There are some whom care not – no importance to them

But to me it is everything – from where do I stem?

You are a light bringer – this is your job

Your place among people – you must never snob

The world is needier day after day

For the souls that can do this – you are needed to stay

To help bring some love – show some light on the shadows

To hold up the walls of this fragile existence

You must try to stand tall – some would want you to fall

You are on the side of light – but must try not to fight

Just continue to be & help set some souls free



YOU COME IN, BUT I AM NO LONGER HERE, poesia e immagine di ALEXANDR CHULKOV, Repubblica Ceca / Ukraina


(copyright dell'artista)



                       *   *   *

        Ты придёшь, а меня уже нет.
        Я – частица, энергия, свет.

        И дорога ко мне через мрак
        не объедешь, который никак.

        И тропинка ко мне через зло.
        Через тьму совиньона, мерло…

        Через горький мазут сигарет…
        Позовёшь… А меня уже нет.

        Я уже не прошу, не виню.
        Не пишу никому, не звоню.

        Не смешу, не мешаю, не злю.
        Я уже никого не люблю.

        Ты хотела услышать совет?
        Оглянись… А меня уже нет!

        Пожелай!.. Поцелуя, тепла…
        А меня уже ночь обняла.

         ALEXANDR CHULKOV    2006


THE MAGICIAN, quadro di GLORIA FABEL, Norvegia


(copyright dell'artista)



He                               He                               He

walks                           runs                             eyes me

nonchalantly                 to                                up and down

my way                        the next                        unexpectledly

picks off                      one                              inflicts

someone                      on                                vanishing trick

on my right                          the list                         

wham                          mustn’t                        and job done

bam                             waste                           ticks off

he’s gone                     time                             my name

crunch                         those                            before

scrunch                        who know                   jogging

then whirls                   wait                             off – on

towards me                  their turn                      again



twirling his                    he turns                    now you're here

magic stick                   like a top                  now you're not

turns away –                 throws stardust

to smite                       to dazzle

another day                         comes to a stop.               AERONWY  THOMAS


CLEARING, quadro di HELENA CARVALHO, Rio de Janeiro, Brasile


(copyright dell'artista)




From the bottom

Of the well

 I hear cries from above.


I see faces


Over the edge.


Voices call

 A rope descends.

Catch it if you can.


The shadows

Down here

Claim me.


Feet in water,


Swims by.


If I crouch here


They’ll go away.


                             Aeronwy  Thomas