on a park bench
you gather the sky
string by string,
a bouquet of small escapes
tugging at your hands
your head, a quiet flare:
thinking turned into light,
a carried weight, lifting
trees behind you, stand
in bare recollection of self,
drawn in faint strokes
— a world you’re now
half‑done with
and still, you sit,
anchored to the slats,
letting balloons pull
parts of you
that want to leave
dimmi le tue verità
—tell me what keeps you here,
and what tries
to lift you away
.
sulla panchina del parco
raccogli il cielo
filo dopo filo,
un mazzo di piccole fughe
che ti tira dalle mani
la tua testa, un bagliore quieto:
il pensiero diventato luce,
un peso portato, che ora si solleva
gli alberi dietro di te
restano in una nuda memoria di sé,
tracciati in segni appena accennati
— un mondo di cui sei
già a metà distanza
e ancora, resti lì,
ancorato alle assi,
lasciando che i palloncini tirino
le parti di te
che vorrebbero andare via
dimmi le tue verità
— dimmi cosa ti tiene qui,
e cosa invece
tenta di sollevarti
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 3rd, 2026 05:18
- Comment from author about the poem: inspired by visual art from Daniel, with Italian translation for those that read Italian. Artwork in its entirety belongs to Daniel. It served only as a visual prompt.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
much enjoyed read
Thanks Norman, most appreciated🙏🕊️
most welcome friend
Beautiful Cryptic I read the Italian as is although my Italian is poor and next to none I was able to see it was a translation of the English and bravo for the ability to put it in both. The poem itself seems an interpretation of the art but even more it speaks to what holds us all to where and who we are. A mesmerizing write and I am not sure if it is I that am opening my eyes or you that have grown in your poetic ability. This was magnificent
Many thanks Soren. Hopefully it is both as you have said. 🙏🕊️
My pleasure Cryptic
Bit of French there? I will ask Fido - he knows languages. lol.
We, we, moss sure O 🤣🕊️🤩
A person Mentally or Physically wanting to be somewhere else. But unable for some reason.
As for French: I only know enough to get my face slapped.
Good Poem.
Yes, thank you so much, on both counts.🙏🕊️
Arqios, what a beautiful piece. The imagery is delicate throughout, and the tension between being anchored and being lifted gives the poem such emotional depth. By the time you arrive at the closing invitation, it feels deeply personal without ever losing its quiet elegance. Wonderful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Like the ballast in hot air balloons! Thanks Tittu 🙏🕊️
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