Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Lidia Chiarelli, Italy
 
Lidia Chiarelli was born and raised in Turin (Italy), where in 2007, she founded, with Aeronwy Thomas, the Art-literary Movement: Immagine & Poesia.
Lidia’s passion for creative writing has motivated her to write poetry and she has become an award winning poet since 2011.
Her writing has been translated into more than 20 languages and published in Poetry Reviews and on web-sites in Italy, Great Britain, USA, Israel, Romania, France, South Korea, Israel, India, China, Vietnam and Japan.
Her debut poems collection “Immagine & Poesia – The Movement in Progress” was published in New York by Cross-Cultural Communications (August 2013).
“Tramonto in una tazza – Sunset in a cup” is a collection of poems and digital collages and was published in Italy by EEE, Moncalieri-Torino in May 2017.
 
After visiting the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 2010, Lidia was inspired to create installations similar to Yoko Ono’s Wish Tree, hanging poems and original art cards on the trees. Lidia Chiarelli’s “Poetry&Art Trees” thus began to appear in different exhibitions in Italy and abroad.
She is also an appreciated collage artist.
 
 
Contact: immagine.poesia@gmail.com
 
 
 
Poppy Red
 
I put my hands among the flames
Sylvia Plath
 
Of that summer
you had no memories
only red poppies
small flames
that burned your soul
a thousand poppies
open wounds
bleeding
inside you.
Your journey in search of oblivion
started in the soundless hours of the day
now lost
in the barren paths of the mind.
Then long sunset strips
sad omens
stained the sky red
slowly
surrounding you
in deep muffled silence.
 
 
 
 
May on the Hills
 
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one
Edna St Vincent Millay
 
The fragrance of spring
intoxicating ether
envelops you
in the wavering light of sunset.
 
And as in a dream
magenta, purple and red
the meadows reveal
myriads twinkling flowers:
rubies and amethysts
an ancient treasure.
 
Your hesitant hands
gently touch
those precious jewels
while
the last darting seagulls
replay their games
in the sky of May.
 
 
 
 
SISTER TO THE RAIN
 
I am sister to the rain
Dorothy Parker
 
The sky
is a tattered blanket.
The cliff’s edge
heralds rain
howling winds
blow all their fury
 
I wander
through the iridescent paths
while farther up
uncaring clouds
veil the stars.
I breathe deeply
April’s cold solitude
drawing this rainy night
towards me.
 
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s