Poems

De José Antonio Calañas Continente

 

At home, Puçol (València, Spain), May 2021

Fountain pen in hand

staring at that idea

which is hovering in the air:

I try just to catch it

and commit it to paper.


Ink strokes change

ideas into words and

these, little by little,

start falling into place.


A couple more of ink strokes

to trust to paper and memory

those mosaics made up with words

rendered into poems.


Poems born from light,

poems born from shadows, too.


Poems seen before they were heard,

poems felt in the caress of sensitive skin.


Poems of just a single moment,

poems of a life or other.


Poems of longing,

poems of farewell;

poems of hellos,

poems of welcome.


Fountain pen in hand,

watching inspiration and air,

I feel, I live, I write.


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