Black and lead

Pic found here: thank you.

 

Black and lead: it’s your flight, big grey heron
in the hoary substance of air
firm and tired in this new November
to which we are fast going. To the dead.

You were archangel when Leonardo
gave wings to the Annunciation that world
would be saved and redeemed by Christ.
Today I look at you, sadness weaving

 

October, 31st 2019

Italian version

Life is stronger

JB, that day

 

Red cliff falls so fast into deep blue
cobalt and it is as wasteland ruins
where past life died out ages ago
shredded due to each torture by time

Into salty cracks now there are roots
of tenacious and yellow trefoils
mixed with austere sea fennel, strong,
which new green spreads across these dry breccia

We disturb seagulls and they develop
agile flight toward to sky, against
wind and flooding the air with their calls.

Life is stronger than nothing. That’s all

Saint Raphael,
April, 27th 2019

Italian version

 

You can find here more informations about this holiday.

Ice leaf

Thies beautiful image, described by nice words, is from this beautiful blog

Ice leaf, life
is no more into your green blood now
burnt and brown as dead ground

 
Tree leaf left
in the winter frost glass
that remembers when water flowed down

 

Leaves and lives
fossil signs of my soul
dreams and hopes about age without falls

On Seedbud blog,

December, 11th 2018

 

Here there is something in Italian about the same argument

A wren tries

I took this photo on February, 9th 2018

 

Days already get shorter and evening
runs to win leading us towards nights
with their sad load of dark feelings and
filled with boredom and mood of gloom
 

A wren tries timidly to throw colours
using his minute song while clouds now
dripping inhibit impulses to
any full turgor of summer life
 

I dream of dead who are now so many,
I confuse them with the living ones.
After which I see you in twilight
and your tender light breath calms me again

October, 29th 2018

Italian version

Yellow straw

Photo by JB, 2018

 

Yellow straw tells me old story
about seasons and work, about fruits
Now it dries at the sun, useless, dead
tired gold poured down on the fields
 

You cut straws for me once, in my prime,
inside mature wheat stem, in the summer,
you told me about butterflies, bees
leading so my young life to its bloom
 

Now I am in the evening of days,
as sail broken by slaps of bad wind.
I know that you are alive and you are better
yet I wish here your strength, your strong hand

July, 4th 2018

 

Italian version

Ballerina

Pic from here

 

Discreet dancer, you rely upon many
long and thin glass pale wires
and vibrating reflect any breath,
even whispers of black dying flies
 

Growing old while days pass,
your soft silk becomes dusty and grey
as opaque cut out of so lost space,
glue of past times, disuses
 

Ballerina (*). From your corner you look
at my world while it hurriedly passes
towards where it doesn’t know. You don’t think
and your eyes reflect alien black frost

 

June, 3rd 2018

(*) Longbodied cellar spider is named “Ragno ballerino” (Dancer spider) in Italian

 

Italian version

Dawn and sunset

 

Photo by JB, 2016

 

Maybe dawn can resolve any sunset,
vain world travel towards the main night
who wins us every day anyway,
like the nothing that dries up each thing
 

“Never” as well as “always” is not
nested word into mankind assets.
Someone else can define the absolute
and He lives it without a beginning
 

You elect me, my free jump provoking
as can water do running towards
fields that drink and give us their green life.
So I am if I belong to You
 

Beyond any idea, craving, wish
about what I believe and I can
You make me something possible, life.
Yes, You’re dawn that resolve sunset, night

 

Rimini, April, 20th 2018

 

Italian version