Monreale, JB 29.IV.2023
Tomorrow, Saturday, I’ll be in another short trip, so I post one day earlier this stuff and share it today. Of course, it’s about my previous short holiday
Alien world make by gold, arabesques,
and hieratic Byzantines known saints,
old mosaics by Venetia and Islam
encompassed in Catholic ways
Sunny world with fragrant orange trees
along avenues, with foreign figs
evergreen, mighty giants
stretching out wooden arms
Ancient world, friendly people
proud of their ancient glories
and sightseers who bite everything
like a prey that is later recounted
Strange world that can absorbs any sense.
I come here, only and just a few days,
as to measure so distant, far cultures,
tripping in my own body that fails.
Anger of being old can destroy
Palermo, April 29th 2023
(rearranged on May, 6th 2023)
My wisteria weeps flowers of joy.
Juda’s tree is like exploding girl,
bright pink, filling up all with brown bees
and with brisk buzzing that gives me peace
Blue periwinkles awaken; the grass
swells the meadow with modest white flowers
that are like pearls well hidden by seas
that are like happy smiles of young women
So it’s spring and all lives burst now forth
soon erasing the pauses of winter.
I feel life and it flows in my blood
and it fills both my heart and my mind
You are Easter, Passover, You’re Easter
now, You: You’re the Lord who now comes
Give faith and give hope and give all fullness
To my aging and dried poor skin
April, 16th 2023
See also a sort of continuation here
Nothing else but convention, but time
always flows and I can feel it passing
in my withering flesh, in the faces
of those who are ahead and so distant
The year gone took again many people,
few were born and my hope is so thin
like wrong violet grown in some winter
shrunken soon in the grey of its cold
This my evil chokes me and this heart
weeps embracing the fog that pervades
every motion and gesture, each thing.
Even here you don’t take me so far….
A lewd thought rises, hugs, envelops
me as if I were sweetness and girl.
A crow flies in the air made as pond,
indistinct dullness, and now I groan
Wars and death, pain, dismay and so on
doze this jaded, weak self within me
who yet neither rests nor stays awake.
Wash away blasphemy: she advances!
December, 31st 2022
Around Milan, JB. September, 21st 2011
When there’s rain on the grass, from the sky,
and I shiver and watch that dark grey
thinking of sun and summer and light
Long enough is a day
so that I lose myself
When, alone, I sit there waiting for
something new, something else, something that
could change finally me and my life
Long enough is an hour
so that I could get wrong
When, again, as a flash
sudden thought hits my mind
making thrill all my flesh and my skin
Long enough is a second
so that I could fall down
When, at last, I see this older me
looking for better, more
looking for reasons, sense
Long enough is my life
so that You can save me
September, 18th 2022
Thank you so much Lizzie for your suggestion!
There, some years ago. JB, summer 2016
Finally, here’s a day of none, nothing
after a peaceful night made to sleep.
My head empties, and my body wilts
with each of its so tired old muscles
Yesterday I lost words, cause my flesh
needed everything to go up and up
and then wild and fast jumping downhill
it found again strength and knowledge
Today I’m watching my day go by
like it was really and actual vacation.
I can take a book to read a novel
I still hope and wait that Something happens
Faé House, September, 3rd 2022
Pic by me, that place, that day
A short holiday makes little lighter
all the cares that give me many troubles
This old town gives itself to us and
owns us like it did when we got married
Crazy game all swifts play fast and freely
while I watch them black under the sky
As it’s usual I envy them when
my eyes and mind scroll across deep blue
Please, don’t let our memory wane
and our passion turn to old regret:
It’s my love odd and needs skin and flesh,
to be concrete and not abstract trend
Siena, July, 1st 2022
I got this photo here.
Well: this is Wish 2, (very!) less serious than the previous one. It’s only a play, a joke. Is it?. Please, refer to the pic to fully understand its title. LOL.
I wish to be wish
as a witch you can catch
in a wood, near that birch
which loves a hard, tall beech
while we can see a bitch
going fast to a beach
I’m emotions and skin, I’m an itch
and my body wants twitch
among your hands: bewitch
My flesh is like a glitch
as an old broken kitsch.
Take me, fill my deep niche:
I want feel that sweet stitch.
You can make me to switch
so my joy grows so rich
Helpless, I’m part of us.
Don’t you let I unhitch
February, 18th 2022
I got this photo here.
Four Long-tailed Tits come here to rest
only a little on my Judas tree.
They are gentle and tiny, also fun
and like children are happy to live
Each Long-tailed Tit I see on my
Judas tree did survive to the cold
of the winter and now seeks for food.
They already feel spring on the air
As a Long-tailed Tit I wait for
better times hoping I could see them
after this winter where I now live.
I feel cold into my sad poor soul
Like a Long-tailed Tit I’m so frail
into my deep substance. I feel old.
I saw winters and springs many times
yet I’m waiting again for One. God.
February, 10th 2022
A pic I took in the last Terry’s work
(Thank you to my friend Terrygold for the last beautiful landscape she built in Second Life. This winter land remembers me a trip I did many years ago to a place in my Alps, Lago Nero – Black Lake. Soon I’ll post the sources of these words on my Italian Blog; they are very symple words that you can easily understand simply using the Google translator)
Frozen landscape tells me ice and snow,
speaks to me of past times and old stories
about young girls and boys just grown up
where all my time was hereafter and further
White nice splendour of silence and peace
it remembers me that day, now far,
when I went to the black lake and its
ice surface began to break in spring
Like the blood of red poppies among
fields of wheat my days bloomed and brief
is their time. Cover, snow, my old stuff!
Because life is a so little thing
White cold peace in the countryside, here,
when time stood still as did in that day.
My mind is young again, even now
my skin withers yet expects still love
SL, Mystic Bay, November, 6th 2021
JB 2021, The Twins (near Alimonta Shelter)
You run nimbly, joy and freshness spreading,
aware of your so young and firm muscles.
On the path sloping down among stones
I see myself in you and tail you
Then my legs give in and I can not
keep your young rate and follow your steps.
You go away and I slow down, laughing.
My time gets shorter, yours rises higher
Coming back from Alimonta Shelter, August, 9th 2021