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The Gardener's Book of Poetry

When he’s not in the garden, Joao Luiz pens poetry in English and Portuguese.
Below are some of his collected poems.
Let him know if you enjoy his poems and have any publishing connections!


By the old stone wall,
Where chipmunks disappear
And the garden bed’s undone,
A single yellow flower
Turns its face toward the sun.

Beyond the wall
Are fields of cities
And the whispering world of trees.

But here,
While my garden counts the seasons
Framed by the old stone wall, 
The grace of the sunflower summons,
Grows alone, strong and tall.

Joao Luiz Vieira de Castro, 2005  

M. Parrish Sky

Sunday afternoon,
Six o’clock.
The sun burns away the sky      
Projects its glory
On bricked facades and granite block.

Sunday afternoon,
Before the blue rain.
The sun blushes away the day
Retains its winter melancholy
On a cold window-pane.

Sunday afternoon,
Almost dark.                                                  
The sun drags the day away
Reflects its glowing solitude 
On the wind-emptied park.  

Ignis Ardens
Love is a ruby flower
Burning ardent inside my heart,
It's a pain that doesn’t leave scars,
It is agony; it is clamor;

This love that tears me apart.
If it were a sound, a song
A profession of faith,
A French film noir by Goddard

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt more than a warm tear
Running down my face towards my mouth
So thirsty for such love…

But this love is fire that ignites me,
It is fever; it’s incandescent gold
Inside this heart of mine rusty and cold.

Of Flowers and Great Love

Drying flowers in a book
Isn't so sad
When the flowers bloom of a great love.
Years inside a book, the flowers dry,
Love doesn’t
For the memories of a great love are always moist.

Yellow Gladiolas           

The red wheelbarrow of your poetry
Never rusted
Under the summer rain

And the white chickens
Still scratch around
In the back yard

Where gladiolas
Bloom yellow
By an old barn.