Immagine & Poesia, Khế Iêm, Lidia Chiarelli

“Black Cat” poem by Khe Iem, Vietnam. Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Khe Iem


The black cat with my soul and a piece of

my rib, wakes up every morning not

washing its face, every morning not

brushing its teeth; the black cat with clay-like

eyes, opening and closing, or open-

ing and never closing, as it climbs up

and down the stairs, dragging with it my soul

and a piece of my rib, forgetting that

i had lived much darker days, since when and

why it was i had buried them in my

pocket full of notes gathered from

many different tales, strung together

to make up this story about the black

cat with my soul and a piece of my rib;

of course, that is the black cat with clay-like

eyes, not any other kind of eyes; even

as the black cat climbs up and down the stairs.

Translated into English by J. Do Vinh



“The Black Cat” is one of three very fine poems in the December 2007 edition of Poetry.about Forum (


Immagine & Poesia, Katherine L. Gordon, Lidia Chiarelli

“Wordless With Roses” poem by Katherine Gordon, “Cascade of Roses” fine art photo by Lidia Chiarelli

cascade of roses (3)

Wordless With Roses

There is a rose in many a poem

though no words can capture

the startlement of such a beauty

lavished on some olden wall as though

fairy-chosen to hold all who can see

to a ransom of dreams.   We cannot say

how the heart stops, tears appear,

passions pulse, but for a moment all meaning

is possible.

True love, true harmony, true surrender,

all wordless.

Katherine L. Gordon.


Gordon L. Katherine (Canada)
Katherine L. Gordon is a poet, publisher, judge, reviewer and literary critic, promoting poetry internationally. Her work
has been published internationally in several languages, including Chinese and Hindi. Her latest book is Caution: Deep
Water, HMS Press.

Immagine & Poesia, Khế Iêm, Lidia Chiarelli

ÁNH SÁNG TRÊN NHỮNG BỨC TƯỜNG ĐỜI – poem by Lidia Chiarelli (Italy), Translation by Khế Iêm (Vietnam)







to Lawrence Ferlinghetti for

his 101st birthday

[Hic et nunc]


Dạy tôi vẽ

ánh sáng trên những bức tường đời

Dạy tôi nhìn vào thế giới

như bạn thấy

để trở nên giọt nước mắt của mặt trời

ngọn đồi thơ

chữ trên cây.

Hướng tôi

nhìn mặt trời

đụng vào vách đá thẳng

những dòng chảy nước triều dâng lên xuống

không ngưng nghỉ

Những con chim bay trên mặt nước bất kể


Hãy cùng nhau lắng nghe

tiếng thở của những chiếc lá rì rào

sự thinh lặng của đêm đầy sao

âm thanh của mùa hè trong nhưng giọt mưa

Ở đây và bây giờ

Giúp tôi với tới chính cột ánh sáng

đợi chờ sự phục hưng điều kỳ diệu

với bạn

trở lại và mãi mãi


First published on POETRY JOURNAL IN PRINT • BÁO GIẤY, JUNE 2020

Digital Collage, Immagine & Poesia, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Lidia Chiarelli

“On the Walls of Life” poem and image by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy (To Lawrence Ferlinghetti on his 101st birthday)



On the Walls of Life

to Lawrence Ferlinghetti on his 101st birthday


[Hic et nunc]

Lead me to paint

the light on the walls of life.

Lead  me

to become a tear of the sun

a hill of poetry

a word in a tree

Take me

to look at the world

as you saw it

to discover

the sparkling sea of gold

the herons riding the wind

the  tides that restlessly ebb and flow.


With you I will listen

to the echo of the siren song

to the breath of rustling leaves

the perfect hush of a starry night.


Here and now

help me reach the very shores of light

waiting for the day

that maketh all things clear

 with you

again and forever


Lidia Chiarelli, Italy


March 24, 2020



Immagine & Poesia

Appel à participations au vol. 7, 2020 de l’anthologie annuelle Art et Poésie IMMAGINE & POESIA


Appel à participations au vol. 7, 2020 de l’anthologie annuelle Art et Poésie IMMAGINE & POESIA


Les poètes et artistes membres du mouvement Immagine & Poesia, sont invités à soumettre un poème et une illlustration y faisant référence pour l’anthologie éditée par le Mouvement Immagine & Poesia de Turin, Italie. Huguette Bertrand (Canada) sera la responsable de la réalisation en format Pdf de  ce  livre  électronique. Cet ouvrage ne sera pas vendu mais accessible en téléchargement gratuit sur le site de Immagine & Poesia. Cette publication comportera des textes de poètes d’expression française et d’expression anglaise. Les poèmes ne seront pas traduits.

Règles de participation

1 – Chaque participant-e poète et artiste doit être membre du groupe IMMAGINE & POESIA. Sinon vous inscrire sur le FB du groupe.

  1. – Chaque poète doit fournir un poème et une illustration correspondant au poème.

3 – Si un-une poète choisit l’œuvre d’un-une artiste à jumeler avec son poème, l’artiste doit être membre de Immagine & Poesia et donner sa permission par courriel pour l’utilisation de son œuvre, et vice versa de la part de l’artiste qui soumet une œuvre à jumeler à un poème.

  • – Soumission en 2 pièces jointes à un courriel.
    1. Le poème et la biographie (et la biographie de l’artiste s’il y a lieu) sur un seul fichier .doc ou .docx
    2. le fichier de l’illustration en format .jpg
    3. les poètes et artistes doivent être détenteur de leurs droits d’auteur. 
      • – Chaque poème ne doit pas dépasser 20 lignes incluant les espaces entre les strophes pour raison


      • – Chaque biographie ne doit pas dépasser 3 lignes. Le lien web doit être inscrit à la fin de la


      1. Les éditeurs se réservent aussi le droit de refuser les textes qui ne conviendraient pas à cette publication.


      Les poèmes accompagnés des illustrations paraîtront par ordre d’entrée des soumissions.




J. Scotte Barkan, Stanley H. Barkan

“The Leaning Tower of Poems”, poem by J. Scotte Barkan (USA). Digital Collage by Lidia Chiarelli (Italy)



My father, the poet, asks for my help once again.

He asks me to enter the room where the magic happens.

All about are boxes upon boxes.

Some are sturdy but many if not most are not, crumpling under the weight 

of poetic thoughts and ideas that separate us from the animals.

The younger towers stand fairly strong compared to their elders, 

which bend and lean perilously over the precipice of the floor far below.

I am asked to help rehabilitate what can’t seemingly be recovered.

But my wise father calls out instructions of what goes where.

I shake my head, but as the good son I’ve always yearned to remain in his eyes, 

I do as I’m told.

I pick up the poor broken-down boxes, spilling out papers of many colors 

and put them where they belong.

Arranged and rearranged yet again, so that one day they will become 

what they aspire to be.

Books standing proudly on shelves, and occasionally finding their way 

into the hands of those who have the depth and introspection to absorb the words that somehow have survived to live on, perhaps far beyond when they emerged from the womb of their creator, and so on.

When I have temporarily finished the task,

I turn around and still shake my head at the landscape and try to push back 

at the inevitability of things staring back at me.

Yet my father just stands there smiling, for order to the disorder has been restored.

Until the next tower that requires my father’s son’s services.

J. Scotte Barkan