Poetry: Claudia Piccinno, Italy

Exclusive: Poetry from Europe and other Western locations: Curated by Agron Shele
Claudia Piccinno

Claudia Piccinno

cippinna@hotmail.com
Claudia Piccinno born in Lecce in 1970,  she moved very young in Lombardy and then in Emilia Romagna (north east of Italy) where he she currently lives and teaches in a primary school. Operating in more than sixty anthologies,  she’s a former member of the jury in many national and international literary prizes. She has published “La sfinge e il pierrot”, Aletti Editore, 2011 “Potando l’euforbia” in Transiti Diversi, Rupe Mutevole Edizioni, 2012 “Il soffitto, cortometraggi d’altrove”, La Lettera Scarlatta Edizioni, 2013 With english version also “Il soffitto, cortometraggi d’altrove” La Lettera Scarlatta Edizioni maggio 2014   – in serbian “Tabahnha” ed.Majdah luglio 2014.   – “Ragnatele Cremisi”- La Lettera Scarlatta Edizioni, settembre 2015.Honorary member of the non-profit “With the eyes of Geggio” association.she chaired the jury of the contest of drawings “From your eyes to the pencil”facing the young patients of the children’s hospitals throughout the country and ended in April 2015.She has participated in numerous poetry readings and marathons, including those held in Bologna for the International 100 poets for change.Author foreground with effect in June 2015 the World Group Pentasi B ,she works to promote poetry  based on respect and appreciation of differences. Scholastic referent  land for education at reading. She has received awards in major national and international competitions of poetry, (including a mention of honour in the Paris 1st Word Literary Prize); her  poem “In Blue” is on a majolica stele posted on the seafront in Santa Caterina di Nardo (Le).

 The ceiling
Elsewhere short films
on my ceiling,
as at a silent cinema.
Butterfly trapped
in the amber… it’s my mind.
They weigh as a condemnation
to the eternal lack of love
those caresses ever bestowed.
I stand
in my body shortages
despite an intimate wandering
changes in pollen my thoughts.


Blankets of oblivion

Arms lengthen themselves,
hands intertwine,
fingers that scratch
to pierce
a melancholy tulle.
Sharp and gaunt branches
look for the blue of the day
buried under blankets of oblivion.
Chinese shadows dance
reflected in the mirror
of a suspended sky
between how it is
and how it would like to be!


Mare Nostrum

Ode to you
liquid cradle for the dreamers,
“Muse” for painters and for novelists,
“Promised land”
for seagulls and fishermen!
Ode to you
silent mirror
for rebels and for pioneers,
“Caronte”
for the inflatable boats of strangers!
Disturbed is your frenetic pulsing
because of the dross of the nuclear power plant.
Ode to the sparkling laughters
of bathers!
Ode to the tickle
that Grecale and Maestrale
test on the innocence of the wave.
Deaf and mute are the consciences
of the brave nocturnal helmsmen.
Ode to you, Mare Nostrum,
ode to your improvising yourself
pentagram of a several voices chorus,
sounding box of quick lullabies,
main road of hope,
vibrant warning to avoid the mattanza.

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