A nickname

A photo of mine, 2019

 

In that chatroom, her nickname was Desert Rose.

 

A stone rose
scales herself
 

As crust plasters
hidden soul
 

With bronze thoughts
during days
 

Dried reflections
of calcite
 

Witness of
burnt dead seas
 

And of thoughts
buried deep
throughout the time
 

And of colours
in chalk frozen
 

A stone rose
scales myself

 

A mIRC chatroom, 2005

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Come with me

 

Come with me to the other side
of my soul. There are died
dreams made by sand and dried
thoughts and hopes from white brides

Come with me: I’ll be guide
to my heart and I’ll tie
my bad wishes together to cry
where dark sins fade at light

Come to see how much wide
is our love that we ride.
Like the sea rises tide
I’m with you and so pride …

SL, Galadriel’s Mirror, MiddleEarth
January, 13th 2019

Winter dream

(Photo by Melania)

Silly words born while I was chatting with a friend about a landscape built by Terrygold.
Maybe not silly at all.

What’s a winter dream? It’s as a scream
made by shadows that cover as cream
my frost skin; shivers’ stream
runs like hopeless bad sin
 

What’s a winter dream? It’s a flash, gleam
that moves me to be silly and write reams
clinging to thoughts rerunning same scheme.
Winter dream is too much my own theme
 
 
 
SL, Casvian Caye, January, 12th 2019

and I’m back

Gustav Klimt, The tree of life; at the right end: The embrace (pic found here)

I cling on to your body this night
when I grasp your chest and you entirely
and I take you and you take me and
spasm of life runs across all my flesh
 

I am frequently far in my dreams
lost in evil screams scattered there
in a desert, my acts can’t be true
and they have so no substance, no beauty
 

I cling strongly to you and this night
becomes lighter and dissipates shadows
that freeze deeply heart and my mind.
You feel me and you see me and I’m back

 

November, 4th 2018

 

Italian version

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

Bellavitaa

Photo by JB, 2014

 

In your lawn I lie down and I’m peaceful.
You catch me as I were simple life
without asking for anything, only
wearing your welcoming smile

 
There are silence and peace on your lap,
your skin is like a dress full of light:
only it’s a slight whisper of dream.
I’m calm seeking your glance to give me up

 

IRC Chat, 29.VII.2018

 

 

Italian version

Rustinsects

Photo by Terrygold

 

I’m lost in wonder: my friend Terry continues to improve her building and artistic abilities; her last work is this wonderful Rusted Farm so filled with strange and worrying insects, made with a full original style.

Here are my poor words for her work.

 

Rustinsects dusty and reddish of earth
burnt and dirty with iron’s dry blood,
nightmares monsters and maybe ourselves
walking slowly across far lost paths

 

Skinny spectres and tainted with dumb
sensitivity, corroded image
of us, the soft ones, with our feet
on the ground squeaky into blue hopes

 

SL, Casvian Caye, August 25th, 2018

 

 
Italian version