That rose, by me
There’s a rose, a new rose in my garden
she just bloomed, she’s pretty
almost like a small sun, like a drop
of its warm yellow light. She’s a rose
Today I saw a rose in my garden
she’s a rose with a flower, no more
as a lonely explosion of grace
without excess of crowds. She’s a rose
So I planted a rose in my garden.
May gave her light and warmth
and the colour of a shining dawn.
I don’t bring up her, she does live. The rose
June, 5th 2021
That evening, by me
I’m relaxing
After silly bad things, after evil and sins
after days of strong work
In the evening
after shining of sun, after wet heat and dun
pale skies like an artwork
I’m relaxing
For so long and so far I awaited for spring
now she paints all with green
Now it’s evening
A soft breeze slowly strokes honeysuckles
bumblebees seem to chuckle
And my mind smiles, in peace, about files
no more scary
Like a faery
in the evening, when air smells of green clary
I’m relaxing
May, 29th 2021
Homeless wave, by AtélieKemi
I dream of a wild, a giant wave
white foam shaking the deep blue immobility:
stagnancy
widespread on ocean bottoms
I am the wave and I wander restlessly
with no place to sleep quiet,
without peace in the senses; my body
grows old and yet it craves caresses
Each of us is the wave, and we’re restless
if love doesn’t touch us, if anyone
never looks at us with sharp desire
to be one with us in sweet embrace
There’s no peace for the wave in the world
of concrete yet distracted earth things.
The Reality is larger than what
forces us and cages us: it’s the death
May, 1st 2021
(English version translated from the original Italian one)
Dohmangreda, by AtélieKemi
Silky turgor on your skin
stretches tremors of that May
when each thing went toward life:
grass and trees and naïve young girls
Silky turgor on your skin
yet your breast withers so fast
where are now all your past springs
where your surge and needs of love?
Had you love during that time
when you lifted young firm breasts
in the pride of your fresh years
now lost like each rose loses petals?
A sick pallor grows on you
and a cap hides your thin hair
yet your mouth blooms and it’s a
brilliant explosion of red
It’s reminder, regret or
will to win against the time?
Maybe it’s a dream, blind hope
that denies these current things
Like you I am fooled trend
caged by old memories
Thus I lose my present life
and dye hair and certainties
SL, Osta Nimosa, April, 8th 2021
Miracle of reality, by AtélieKemi
Who can say
what will be after dark
when the light will come, if
it will be?
Night is realm of dreams and black shadows
where eyes are not allowed to help
us to see the world, people and things
as they are, not supposed to be
You splash some colour on the blank sheet
here so that now I can see somewhat,
something, someone, a body, yourself
to rise when world begins to exist
Light is a true miracle when sun
once more raises and reality explodes
forcing us to wake up, to be alive
to be what we are born to become
Something red, maybe skin, blood… a face
comes out from fable, feeble, flat blue
texture, maybe ocean of dreams
and green spots maybe grass or tree leaves
That’s a shock, each time when our eyes
open asking us this: What the hell happens now?
Why God wants us alive, still alive
after each night of darkness and dreams?
A soul grows, raises up, that’s a face
and it expands itself to take place
in the world, to find and fill each field
with its knowledge to be fully alive
That’s miracle of reality, yes!
when real world, with all its solid things
comes to us, again, and that’s new dawn:
shoddy things become beauty, life, warmth
And you rise and you grow and I too
to explore each space there, to be close
to each friend we’ll meet here in this day
to each thing shaped by light once more
We now say
what will be after dark
because light will come here:
It will be!
SL, Amazing Love, May, 4th 2021
Homeless wave, by AtélieKemi
There’s a tower, just there, near the corner,
strong thin matter, as one of us, standing
near the giant sea that has no limits
to its power or strength or time also
A large wave as anomalous shiver
shines so white, like a pure and clean spirit,
or breath came from a powerful goddess
of the past, when all was only silence
It’s explosion of white: foam and water
with no rest hit and upset the blue
quiet depths yet it is without evil
as wild something who shouts to be alive
We are watching at that nature’s play,
weak and little as poor tiny creatures
waiting for that wave could bring back here
something found at the end of the sky
The wave goes and returns and again
brings us toward that weird foreign sky
and then back to the dry ground and more
again there, again here, so we are puzzled
By the sea side the wave sees us here
near the tower, on our safe dryland
brown and dark, with no green grass nor trees
as a still place where life seems an absence
Each of us is a homeless wave, often,
because life is so small, narrow, tight
and the world can not cage our wishes.
There’s no home here for our swollen souls
Our nothing is a so sharp feeling
as that black thin high tower, the corner
of the picture … and we are that nothing.
Yet we know that we are and we love
May, 1st 2021
Sudden Light
D.G.Rossetti
Pic from here
I have been here before,
but when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
the sweet keen smell,
the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,
how long ago I may not know:
but just when at that swallow’s soar
your neck turned so,
some veil did fall,
I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time’s eddying flight
still with our lives our love restore
in death’s despite,
and day and night yield one delight once more?
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I always considered Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelite authors something like too much sentimental, romantic like, decadent.
Some days ago a friend told me more about them and I needed to know more abou them.
Well, I like these words much more than his paintings.
That friend said me that she finds something similar in my words and in Pre-Raphaelite ones: I am so proud for that, even if I think I am really so far from any real poet… Indeed, the idea to put into poetic stuff spiritual contents is what I try when i describes what i see or what i feel.
And now I am looking for other Rossetti’s words.
Something soft, as grey mist
spreads across this small world
not like that red death mask
nor as black terror plague
sweetly it kills us now
I need eyes to watch in
I need hands to hold tight
I need friends to be close
I need love to be me
Something like a white pain
rides together with this
new weird virus and makes
mankind dull, forcing us
towards dreams
I need facts truly true
to be alive, to be far
from death innate in dreams
to be out
from that white without shape
Someone says that a man
resurrected by death
and He lives in his Church.
I decide to trust them
I need Christ who saves me
I need Him to change me
I need Him, to be me
Deep into
those clear eyes
I met Him
With those hands
He bears me
He was
is
in those friends
Unbelievable peace
April, 17th 2021
One of my silly cats
Catlike words
come here, stop themselves,
take a look all around
then they go
elsewhere as sweet kisses who like
soft young warm girls’ cheeks and
go to taste other more
Only silly minds can
think to return to hunt them
because they are free, higher
over you in deep skies
Catlike, myself waits too
curled up on a chair
for they come
to free my soul again
April, 8th 2021
Some of our Easter eggs.
Another so strange and silent Easter.
Yet He saved us. He saves us now.
Amen.
I wish you the best possible Easter!
April, 3rd 2021
