Short Poetry Showcase from Aldo Quagliotti

photo from pixabay.

I am sure

I’m sure life is unbeatable
research’s holy, dancing uplifting
for an animal like me
a beast rocking around
a feast with implacable sound
a cascade of tongues, licking my noise
rainforest of frogs, a sweaty magnolia
the wardrobe is open: go lash out

otherworldly yours,

I am sure, hysteria
I’ll meet you again some point
during the shift

My grandma

My grandma's sandy skin
like chopped pecans delight me
stands for comfort and bitter sorties
the dysfunction and re-joining
the colossal, quasi-expressionistic soul
hidden behind despair
a husband who tried to bury you alive

we crossed disquieting silences
and productive scowls, you would get my temper
teetering on the blink of a slap
you would assure me with a pair of eyes
and I, gasping with delight
would ask you for a hug
yet passion is so much stauncher
when doesn't stride out from the chest
when it keeps quiet and invest
the beauty of a kiss
embroidered in your throat
so I keep on kissing you
and you never get enough
and I shall never pass
on feeling your son, through your daughter's act
a replica of a miracle


I loved you for so long
that I no longer remember
the sparse sprinkles of your smile
left on the breakfast table
the stealthy appearances
in my worst nightmares
sucking off your boredom
by punching my face
and I would thwack the pillow 
and it would vomit back
a bunch of brand new fears
it was only yesteryear

You were my father
a secret I’d never share
if it wasn’t for life
giving us roles 
too big to handle
too heavy to fit
so we stick with deliveries
clumsy attempts, theatrical moves
worried so much we’ll get 
very little in return 

I forgive you now
that I’ve crossed the embryo of your eyes
when I saw you crying hard
because you had failed me 
before I was even born
I touched your shoulders to remind you 
that we unfold over ungrounded skins
we never really get in 
and when we get the chance
to squeeze a pulsing heart
the sun hatches its grin
to tickle our arrogance straight to its lungs
to tell us how insignificant
fighting over pride can be 
if I unintentionally see
you would go ahead an rehave me 
 discarding the sperm that didn’t win
to be me 

Bio: Aldo Quagliotti is an Italian poet living in London, UK. He's the author of Japanese Tosa (London Poetry Books), Confessions Of A Pregnant Man (AllienBuddha Press) and Incubi&Succubi. 

His poems have been rewarded in Italy, Brazil, USA, Canada, Ireland and in the United Kingdom. He has been selected for important anthologies such as Paper therapy,Yawp!, The Essential anthology, Murmurations, Poetical Word, Poetry in the Time of Coronavirus. Several webzines and magazines have published his work, such as INNSÆI, U-rights, Credo espoir, Parouisia , Poetica Review and many more.He has been chosen to represent the Poetry Corner at the London Chelsea + Kesington Art Week. 2020,2021 and 2022 editions

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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