No language is verbal
No person
posso capire
His words and his wisdom are rolled out into pane
spaghetti and empanadas tell his story
his fatti in casa can not be replicated
packaged goods take away the picture that he
took so long to create
stringing his mamma and papà into his bolognese.
Famiglia becomes life
his true meaning is unknown
his secret
bound by le corde della vita
wrapped up in his too divine brain.
He doesn't work for anyone else
he doesn't need blisters from lifting
or the palette of a philosopher
because his hands are tired enough from kneading.
Family comes first
strangers come zweite
avanzi becomes dinner
and uscire becomes a party
then strangers become friends
and zwei worlds are united as ein.
A big culture mixed with ein
his words make sense yet play with your sense of time
leaving you to fill in the misspoken tongue
and play with una lingua en zwei.
Which is why people rely on his food
to feed them the story of his life
no translation needed
no guessing game to assemble
solo gioia.
______
Hey so this is a poem I wrote earlier this year, and I've been pretty busy today so I haven't generated any new content per say but I'll be back tomorrow with a fun and fresh piece.
Enjoy!
YOU ARE READING
A collection of short stories
Short StoryHey so it's been a while since I've posted anything, and while my love for writing sure as hell has not faded, I can get distracted easily. So I've decided to write some short stories in my free time. I'll compile them into a single story but if you...
