The photography

 

From those papers your face
and no lost souvenirs of a time
when a sense held up everything
and you were both a shelter and aid
 

Where are you looking at?
Is your day near or far?
Your eyes are focusing beyond us
staring at the last threshold of your
world that you, that’s for sure, there you saw
 

Years have passed but the absence does not.
You come back in the nights, in my dreams
and we talk and it’s usual.
Then I wake up, I see me, I miss you
 

 

March, 21st 2017

Italian version

She & me. Part two: me

img_5819_web

photo by me, 2015

2. Me

I have no leaves on my branches. My skin
becomes dry with the wind of the winter
that strips it both of love and belief
of each good verifying caresses
 

I’m a shiver. I ask for the Moon,
soft light twisting to my dry cold body
when I lie without words in the shadows
of all my gloomy thoughts built by absence
 

I lost feelings of sweetness and love
in the mist, which shades off farther here
any mountains and beauty semblances.
I’m a poor land, earth of little substance
 

I am the servant of demented cravings
to which I bend down, looking for toys
in my nothing. A diaphanous whisper
coats my flesh almost lifeless
 

 November, 28th 2016

Italian version

She & me. Part one

img_5819_web

photo by me, 2015

  1. She

 I have no leaves on my branches. My skin
realizes shiny drops of the rain
and they flow, as tears lost,
breaths of frozen white steam
 

I’m a shiver. I ask for the Moon
as my peace. I’m so tired. I crouch down
on the earth: I’m rejection of blue.
You hurt me with your coarse awful gaze
 

I lost feelings of sweetness and love
in the mist, which shades off farther here
any mountains and beauty semblances.
I’m as goods that have little substance
 

I am the servant of demented cravings
to which I bend down, like poor toy.
I am nothing. A diaphanous whisper
coats my flesh almost lifeless

November, 28th 2016

 

Italian version
 

Silence

OK. I had a beautiful photo, with Venus and the blue sky and the black spruce. That photo was born near Bergamo, together with these words.
Ok: I am silly and I deleted it.

This photo comes from here

I look at Venus that shines, it’s shining
solitude and ice frost blue mountains.
The dark deep sky is sapphire and cools down
the clear air. All around is still silence
 

A spruce is a black silhouette; it stays up
upright, lifeless and without each thought.
The night dyes a desert with its shadows
and I breath only this silence. Silence

December, 27th 2016

 

Italian version

Uncle

Also you walk away
suddenly
You, mystery more than the others,
stubborn silence and coarse
witty remark
You, obstinate boy,
selfish generous,
now you too
you have gone
as a last surprise
joke.

 
You and the other
ones
fewer now
you all ever don’t stop
to die

 

December, 5th 2016

Beyond the space

Till now I posted here only fresh stuffs, yet the last things I’m posting are made by old words that describe my previous life, the one before I met my Love.

That fact explains why the style is so different and also why the contents tend to despair. Just this week, thanks to an idea of my friend Leda, I’m finishing another work named “Chiaroscuro” (that is “Light and dark”) in which I fix chronologically this existential transition between light and darkness, which also at present still crosses my days , although no more in such desperate tones.

 

2-star-blue

Beyond the space,
Further the light
Of the stars
There’s a shrunk world
All encrusted with boredom

Italian version