poemakontsa
@poemakontsa.bsky.social
2024-25 Pushcart heartbreak nominee.
You know: I have to give you up again
And I can't.
I am after the lost sign, the single
pledge you graced me with.
And hell is certain
You know: I have to give you up again
And I can't.
I am after the lost sign, the single
pledge you graced me with.
And hell is certain
Portuguese poet Herberto Helder
December 10, 2025 at 3:55 AM
Portuguese poet Herberto Helder
Watching Shoah in a Hotel Room in America
Adam Zagajewski
(Last verses)
The shoes of Auschwitz, in pyramids
high as the sky, groan faintly:
Alas, we outlived mankind, now
let us sleep, sleep:
we have nowhere to go.
Adam Zagajewski
(Last verses)
The shoes of Auschwitz, in pyramids
high as the sky, groan faintly:
Alas, we outlived mankind, now
let us sleep, sleep:
we have nowhere to go.
December 10, 2025 at 2:07 AM
Watching Shoah in a Hotel Room in America
Adam Zagajewski
(Last verses)
The shoes of Auschwitz, in pyramids
high as the sky, groan faintly:
Alas, we outlived mankind, now
let us sleep, sleep:
we have nowhere to go.
Adam Zagajewski
(Last verses)
The shoes of Auschwitz, in pyramids
high as the sky, groan faintly:
Alas, we outlived mankind, now
let us sleep, sleep:
we have nowhere to go.
The biographical poem about that time Adam Zagajewski saw Claude Lanzmann's Shoa in a hotel in America
Huge trucks transport stars from the firmament,
gloomy trains go by in the rain.
I am innocent, Mozart repents;
only the aspen, as usual, trembles,
prepared to confess all its crimes.
Huge trucks transport stars from the firmament,
gloomy trains go by in the rain.
I am innocent, Mozart repents;
only the aspen, as usual, trembles,
prepared to confess all its crimes.
December 10, 2025 at 1:18 AM
The biographical poem about that time Adam Zagajewski saw Claude Lanzmann's Shoa in a hotel in America
Huge trucks transport stars from the firmament,
gloomy trains go by in the rain.
I am innocent, Mozart repents;
only the aspen, as usual, trembles,
prepared to confess all its crimes.
Huge trucks transport stars from the firmament,
gloomy trains go by in the rain.
I am innocent, Mozart repents;
only the aspen, as usual, trembles,
prepared to confess all its crimes.
Another Herberto Helder in translation.
Tr. by Alexis Levitin
The loveliness of a word. A hill when sea spume leaps against the written month of May.
Tr. by Alexis Levitin
The loveliness of a word. A hill when sea spume leaps against the written month of May.
December 9, 2025 at 8:02 PM
Another Herberto Helder in translation.
Tr. by Alexis Levitin
The loveliness of a word. A hill when sea spume leaps against the written month of May.
Tr. by Alexis Levitin
The loveliness of a word. A hill when sea spume leaps against the written month of May.
How fucking good is Portuguese poet Herberto Helder.
His out of the boxness reminds me of the kind of strange, marvellous stuff Zbigniew Herbert does.
This one is translated by Alexis Levitin.
A vase with a transparent chrysanthemum harbors secret trembling
His out of the boxness reminds me of the kind of strange, marvellous stuff Zbigniew Herbert does.
This one is translated by Alexis Levitin.
A vase with a transparent chrysanthemum harbors secret trembling
December 9, 2025 at 4:28 PM
How fucking good is Portuguese poet Herberto Helder.
His out of the boxness reminds me of the kind of strange, marvellous stuff Zbigniew Herbert does.
This one is translated by Alexis Levitin.
A vase with a transparent chrysanthemum harbors secret trembling
His out of the boxness reminds me of the kind of strange, marvellous stuff Zbigniew Herbert does.
This one is translated by Alexis Levitin.
A vase with a transparent chrysanthemum harbors secret trembling
Some Heberto Helder in translation.
Translated by the always competent
Richard Zenith.
I'd like a grammatical error to rewrite
the poem of the world on the side of daylight
Translated by the always competent
Richard Zenith.
I'd like a grammatical error to rewrite
the poem of the world on the side of daylight
December 9, 2025 at 4:07 PM
Some Heberto Helder in translation.
Translated by the always competent
Richard Zenith.
I'd like a grammatical error to rewrite
the poem of the world on the side of daylight
Translated by the always competent
Richard Zenith.
I'd like a grammatical error to rewrite
the poem of the world on the side of daylight
Good evening with this breathtaking short poem by the exquisite Cristina Campo
As devout as a branch
bent down by many snows
wild as a bonfire
As devout as a branch
bent down by many snows
wild as a bonfire
December 9, 2025 at 3:57 AM
Good evening with this breathtaking short poem by the exquisite Cristina Campo
As devout as a branch
bent down by many snows
wild as a bonfire
As devout as a branch
bent down by many snows
wild as a bonfire
Ah, how many things lost
By Pedro Salinas
I have given them up for lost.
...
the exalted raptures
of loving, and the agonies
of still loving a little
and the longing
to love you, to love you more.
By Pedro Salinas
I have given them up for lost.
...
the exalted raptures
of loving, and the agonies
of still loving a little
and the longing
to love you, to love you more.
December 8, 2025 at 8:38 PM
Ah, how many things lost
By Pedro Salinas
I have given them up for lost.
...
the exalted raptures
of loving, and the agonies
of still loving a little
and the longing
to love you, to love you more.
By Pedro Salinas
I have given them up for lost.
...
the exalted raptures
of loving, and the agonies
of still loving a little
and the longing
to love you, to love you more.
Good morning with Portuguese poet extraordinaire Sophia de Mello Breyner.
Beach
And an ancient nostalgia of being a mast
Sways in the pines
Beach
And an ancient nostalgia of being a mast
Sways in the pines
December 8, 2025 at 4:05 PM
Good morning with Portuguese poet extraordinaire Sophia de Mello Breyner.
Beach
And an ancient nostalgia of being a mast
Sways in the pines
Beach
And an ancient nostalgia of being a mast
Sways in the pines
Good morning with Spanish poet Pedro Salinas, on things lost.
Ah, how many lost things
Alphabets of foam,
stolen away by the sea.
Ah, how many lost things
Alphabets of foam,
stolen away by the sea.
December 8, 2025 at 3:18 PM
Good morning with Spanish poet Pedro Salinas, on things lost.
Ah, how many lost things
Alphabets of foam,
stolen away by the sea.
Ah, how many lost things
Alphabets of foam,
stolen away by the sea.
Now playing on the Criterion Channel
Certified Copy
Abbas Kiarostami
Certified Copy
Abbas Kiarostami
December 8, 2025 at 3:29 AM
Now playing on the Criterion Channel
Certified Copy
Abbas Kiarostami
Certified Copy
Abbas Kiarostami
A pretty heartbreaking poem by Lebanese-Syrian poet Adonis
Tree of Fire
The tree by the river
is weeping leaves.
...
I am that final
leaf that no one
sees.
Tree of Fire
The tree by the river
is weeping leaves.
...
I am that final
leaf that no one
sees.
December 8, 2025 at 2:08 AM
A pretty heartbreaking poem by Lebanese-Syrian poet Adonis
Tree of Fire
The tree by the river
is weeping leaves.
...
I am that final
leaf that no one
sees.
Tree of Fire
The tree by the river
is weeping leaves.
...
I am that final
leaf that no one
sees.
A scalding 🔥🔥🔥 erotic poem by Mexican Veronica Volkow
The Beginning
so like the first night of life
we close our eyes and are beast again
and our bodies are clamped like throats
choking on the shapely flavors.
The Beginning
so like the first night of life
we close our eyes and are beast again
and our bodies are clamped like throats
choking on the shapely flavors.
December 8, 2025 at 1:37 AM
A scalding 🔥🔥🔥 erotic poem by Mexican Veronica Volkow
The Beginning
so like the first night of life
we close our eyes and are beast again
and our bodies are clamped like throats
choking on the shapely flavors.
The Beginning
so like the first night of life
we close our eyes and are beast again
and our bodies are clamped like throats
choking on the shapely flavors.
Is it just me or Ursula Schult is a major babe in Haneke's Three Paths to the Lake...
December 8, 2025 at 12:53 AM
Is it just me or Ursula Schult is a major babe in Haneke's Three Paths to the Lake...
Some of my Hispanic and Portuguese poetry books
December 7, 2025 at 11:37 PM
Some of my Hispanic and Portuguese poetry books
Now watching on the Criterion Channel
Michael Haneke's adaptation of a story by poet Ingeborg Bachmann,
Three Paths to the Lake
Michael Haneke's adaptation of a story by poet Ingeborg Bachmann,
Three Paths to the Lake
December 7, 2025 at 8:31 PM
Now watching on the Criterion Channel
Michael Haneke's adaptation of a story by poet Ingeborg Bachmann,
Three Paths to the Lake
Michael Haneke's adaptation of a story by poet Ingeborg Bachmann,
Three Paths to the Lake
December 7, 2025 at 7:03 PM
Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
December 7, 2025 at 6:59 PM
Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
Poets have swag!
Brazilian poet Ana Cristina Cesar
Brazilian poet Ana Cristina Cesar
December 7, 2025 at 5:57 PM
Poets have swag!
Brazilian poet Ana Cristina Cesar
Brazilian poet Ana Cristina Cesar
Winter is not a time for love.
Poet Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
There aren't many.
Spring is highly esteemed, but
summer is better.
Poet Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
There aren't many.
Spring is highly esteemed, but
summer is better.
December 7, 2025 at 5:46 PM
Winter is not a time for love.
Poet Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
There aren't many.
Spring is highly esteemed, but
summer is better.
Poet Angel Gonzalez
Inventory of Propitious Places for Love
There aren't many.
Spring is highly esteemed, but
summer is better.
#smallpoemsunday with an exquisite nano poem by Theodore Roethke
Bring the Day
Stop the larks. Can I have my heart back?
Bring the Day
Stop the larks. Can I have my heart back?
December 7, 2025 at 4:58 PM
#smallpoemsunday with an exquisite nano poem by Theodore Roethke
Bring the Day
Stop the larks. Can I have my heart back?
Bring the Day
Stop the larks. Can I have my heart back?
Reading some poetry in the original by Argentinian Ignacio B. Anzoátegui, who I just got acquainted with, and am positively stunned.
December 7, 2025 at 4:41 PM
Reading some poetry in the original by Argentinian Ignacio B. Anzoátegui, who I just got acquainted with, and am positively stunned.