Merita Paparisto (Albania)

Merita Paparisto (Albania)
Merita Paparisto has been born in Elbasan City where she was grow up as well. She has a Bachelor degree in Finance from the University of Tirana. Writing is her hobby and her passion. She has published two poetry books: “Cristal in the fog” and “Beyond… “.
Merita Paparisto is a translator as well. She has translated and published a book with short stories, from well-known authors as Joyce, Capote, Chopin, Virginia Wolf, O’ Henry, Poe, etc. “Selected short stories”. Her third poetry book is going to be published on the beginning of 2020 whereas, a fourth book with short stories, is already in publishing process.
She has a blog,( where she publishes her creative work and her translated work as well.
Poems by Merita Paparisto
Out of body experience
Fifteen days,
Maybe less than that
But that how many they seem to me
My body frenetically moves around in my cage
as my soul goes away, far way…
Has been a long time now
since I‘ve mastered
the out of body experiences.
Quite easy I can come where you are
I can see you, without you knowing
You lift your left hand
and touch your forehead,
then arrange your hair.
With right hand, you take the cigarette
from your mouth
the lips remain half open and I go in.
My lungs tremble
they are not used to the cigarette smoke.
You cough…
there is no taste, only the feeling of it exist
there are no colors, only the feeling of them
there is no touching, only the feeling of it
I try to find myself inside of you
But I realize, I am again in the wrong place.
It hurts me what I see in there
your body doesn’t fit, it’s too big for me.
I want to leave, but I can’t
surrounded, accomplished, thunderstrucked
by things, that is not a good idea to talk about
just write about them, write, write…
Fifteen days, or less?
Or maybe that how many
They seem to me
My body still moves mechanically
inside my skin, as a wind-up toy
The air in between become thicker,
it gets darker and darker and darker…
The moon shows up in the sky
like a very thin sickle
It threatens me: “I’m going to kill you!”
Verses after the midnight
Come now.
The shore is deserted
The waves are asleep
Just you and me
We will wallow in the dark water
Of night’s murk
And will catch cold, both of us.
Today was a cold day
And I have been a little chilled…
I would’ve love
to be snuggled inside of you
cover by a warm blanket both of us
tittering and looking at each other
with the wild cat’s shiny eyes.
… Or you can tell me
That you are going to hug me profoundly
As much, as my thin and delicate bones
Are going to start singing…
If we could learn how to intertwine
our legs, with each other’s
we are going to bloom grape vines flower
greenish, yellowish wisteria
( from “ the miracle of the simple things”)
My heart, is looking for yours
( …and this is not a metaphor )
every time that you walk
in the wrinkles of my brain
my heart escapes from the rib cage
and goes at the rivers bank.
There, it starts an trance gypsy dance
following the murmur of the water
and the crazy song of the birds.
The empty place
where it use to be… hurts.
There are always two red rives
that emanate from the sun.
They flow backward,
the only ones that do not stream into the sea
but quench the thirst of a dried up land
There is always an arrhythmic chirp
that measure the time of the living creatures
sometimes it’s a fragile chime,
a thunder sound, some time,
hurtle on the waves of the flow.
My heart is looking for yours
( and this is not a metaphor)
It craves to attempt
The ecstasy dance on the rivers bank
…. in a couple.
with your thin, bare feet pedicles
on the wet sand of the shore
licked by the foam of waves tongue.
the surface of the water
with your long willow hair.
Let the white warm light
flow from your nipples, like a river.
Swallow the sex in the pupils of your eyes.
Let your ivy arms
surrender around your b
And let the water
kiss your bottom limbs …
Fire up
with the touch of your skin
all the blue tremble, whispers of the lake.
from the green sound of the shore
And deep in the pupils of your eyes,
I crave that you become a wind
I wish you become my wind.
My hair is long and wild
their roots are deep and strong
the comb is missing, has gone
leaving my hair carefree and rebel.
Become you, my wind and mantle me
wrap me up and quiver me
murmur me whisperings
sing to me a melody
the one that only you know
you can even shake me if you want
reel me, tearing down
every fake castle build on sand
every broken promise one by one
like the footprints erased by waves on the shore
waves of disillusion crashed on the cliff
voiceless waves that never sleep…
Extinguish the fire on the fireplace
of the wooden cottage on the mountain
covered by the scent of the pine
with the windows looking to grasslands
and a rocking sleepless chair
cradling next to the fireplace
with a burning fire of a fakeness game
I wish you to become my wind
and hijack me from myself
Wind, that caress me with your long fingers
come and go without staying
warm me up and protect me without building
make me happy and jolly without promising
You, become my wind
and I will baptise with your name
all winds that blow in me.

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