Bird Song and Nectar in the Silences

https://lisalopresti.bigcartel.com

My poetry pamphlet with Hedgehog Poetry Press has signed copies and the pdf ebook are available from me on the big cartel shop.
Poetry Audio Book is available on google play and findaway voices, for the Kindle ebook - Please go to Amazon

- Acumen described the pamphlet as 'most enjoyable' and 'slightly uproarious' 
- Pauline Sewards, Poet whose most recent poetry collection is 'Spirograph', published by Burning Eye says

'The poems are sensual;
they sing with positivity'

Birdsong Poetry

 https://www.birdsongpoetry.com 

email - birdsongpoetry@aol.com 

Workshop Facilitator and Feature Poet

Birdsong Poetry is my freelance service for feature poetry and workshops. The service provides a caring and encouraging experience which aims to be inclusive and mindful to all. I have experience of Spoken Word open mic events, feature poet at events and on BBC Radio Bristol with interviews and poems broadcast regularly. 

I am a member of The Poetry Society, Bristol Stanza Group and Satellite of Love Poetry Events Team, producing and performing community poetry, hosting poetry events and workshops.

Please look at my Birdsong Poetry website and contact me regarding these services.

the answers

prayers are the language of belief

the poetic reiteration of the

known that is held in your heart

the steppingstones of hope

                             without doubt

                                         reaching out

                                                 in acceptance and joy

                                                                               to the other

you and me

in the same city

both daughters of immigrants

the heartbeat of poetry

in our faiths

asking questions of our answers

© Lisa Lopresti   

You will be so Missed

Only in loss

do we understand value.

Tears are the words

we cannot speak,

pain and shock of what happened

and the loss of whatever will.

Our mourning is our love,

unable to reach you.

We miss the future

you were supposed to have.

Our grief will change over time -

but never end. 

Lisa Lopresti  

LAST JOURNEY OF THE ANONYMOUS

A beautiful sea beckons us across,

All hearts open and squeezed as those on board,

So full of fear and hope the boat awash,

Wishing, wishing to move safely forward.

Fleeing war: now one more trip of peril.

This is the last risk we tell ourselves,

Made vulnerable to those who are feral.

Courage and strength that each one has to delve,

Vehemently praying all will be right.

Wishing, wishing no bereavements this night.

Immigrants - They have had enough!

Aylan and Galip gave a face to us.

Our greatest hope, Europe is waking up?

Now poor lads, we are not anonymous.

© Lisa Lopresti 

Is there Existence without Descriptions?

Try to imagine a new colour.

Is that even possible?

How are you doing?

To see the shades, they have to be named.

Is fern green different to forest green,

if the woods are all the same?

Does anything exist that is not identified?

The power of naming the world.

This is everything.

Even unknown corpses are assigned a name,

rib cages and skulls are only remains.

Jane or John are people,

doh!... Homer says to bridge the gap......

Power in words and descriptions,

are magic,

across time, across cultures, across generations.

New descriptions and shades,

are these possible to exist?

Or colour constructs that already reside,

in the truth and side,

of reality of the seeker.

Fashions and notoriety decide,

future existence. 

© Lisa Lopresti

Beseeching

Prevalence of longing glances,

under lashes,

soul searching flashes.

Beseeching lighthouse pulses,

urgency of the messages,

always; missed by the beholder.

The agony of loving,

without being loved.

impossibility of joy,

is the pain of the lonely heart.

Bittersweet -

as apart there is no beginning:

so no end.

© Lisa Lopresti

Rose Bombs

Inspired by the Arabic musician Maya Youssef 'bombs turn into roses' she said' I heal and I surrender. May the white petals of peace fall on Syria.'

Maya Youssef spoke to me about war,

I felt the gravity of tragedy

as never before

in this moment of notes.

She hopes that bombs turn into roses

qanun whispered maqam to my western ears.

Floating flakes of red and white rose buds,

poignantly soft,

with sequestered air to breathe between.

High and low thrumming cords of danger,

sirocco dust blushing the blooms,

in fickle directions.

Then building in fear and fragrance

petal light fingers on strings

of anger and loss again,

before soothing rose water

sweetens wars metallic scythe edge,

with birdsong and nectar in the silences.  

© Lisa Lopresti 

Child Brides Present

The golden caramelised wood grain

runs down the shaft.

It matches the shiny mane

of the hobby horse

whose wool face is chocolate brown,

her favourite treat.

The horse's kindly glass eye

is cat green

and just as mischievous.

The toy's countenance,

nobility of a dependable friend

for adventures and imagined play.

She thanks her husband

for the present.

A gift for her lost childhood,

not understanding

that acting her age,

pleases him.

© Lisa Lopresti