Poems by Marilyne Bertoncini

Photo is by Lydia Bellostick

 Bio :

Marilyne Bertoncini, poet, translator, critic, co-director of Recours au poème, collaborates to poetry magazines, and animates jeudidesmots.com – 14 collections and about fifteen translations published, the latest are Il Libro di Sabbia (Bertoni éd. Italy, 2022), Aub'ombre/alb'ombra (bilingual – PVST 2022), La Plume d'Ange (chemins de Plume 2022), La Noyée d'Onagawa (Jacques André , 2020, 1st prize, Quai en Poésie 2021) and Soleil Hésitant, by Gili Haimovich, (translated from English, Jacques André, 2021)

Rapunzel – ouranswer

Marilyne Bertoncini

Remember the ladder of her long haircoming down the tower

standing without stairs or door in the heart of a forest

The long braided hair down to the ground

which served as a ladder to reach her.

Remember Rapunzel' ssong,

just like a nightingalelocked in its cage

his song hoisting to the sky histhirst for freedom

hisdesire of life and his strength.

Ah, you can veilRapunzel'shair

you can cutthem like the witchdid

Every woman resists secretly in herheart

anticipates the gesture, throws the veil to the fire

and breathless lysings the song of rebellion

One should never over look the moral of the tales –

Rapunzel is Women'sResponse to Oppression

And nothing stops them, these perennial rapunzels

walking to get hertowards the future -

My sisters whose pain is the yeast of revolution.

*

Hair in the wind

The treetopscomb the wind

thewind caresses the hair of the branches

and the fleece of the grass

The windis free and sings

in the disheveledhair of the forests

it touches as it passes the heads of the primroses

or lingers a moment to pick up the perfume

of star jasmine on the gardenwall

The windbrings to the stars the song of the earth,

itruffles the comets, spins the planets

and the wholeuniversesingsalongwith the wind

The windis free and singswhenwomen'shair

are blooming flowers in the sun of life.

*

Atlas

On the world map

the child discovers the pretty coloreds hapes

of a complicated puzzle

that men call “country”.

The linesthatdelimitthem,

men call them “borders”.

But the birdthattravels the world onlysees

theblueocean and the green of the forests

And the man who looks at it

justsees one only sky

protecting all of us

withhismantle of blue.

Marilyne Bertoncini

*

Borders

I like to lay my forehead against yours

feelourmergingthoughts

abolishing the border of our bodies

perfect union

androgynous

unity

of the primordial orange

.

Between the world and me, the line issothin

just a layer of epidermis

sensitive to caress

and sensitive to pain

delicate and protective

my skin against the world’s

Myforeheadagainst the thin

crystalblade of the windowpane

standingbetween the world and me.

Mybreath on the glass

drawshazyclouds,

the world is getting blurry

like a fading dream