A strong wind

JB, that day

 

A strong wind tears white foam off from water
that swells as an old giant’s loud scream.
All hangs into a dark leaden sky,
density of each spirit is free

A wild wind sweeps my face, so my anger
moves away compared with the immense
swirling of forces greater than those
of each minute whims which I can do

Wind. I stand up with effort and upright
turning my chest against booming sea.
I feel all this my body alive
then a smile looks for you and I’m safe

 

Villeneuve-lès-Maguelone,

April, 25th 2019

Italian version

You can find here more informations about this holiday.

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Dead saint stones

JB, 2019

Dead saint stones. They were strong,
full of fervour and passionate faith,
now they stand again orderly and giant
witnesses of Church that lived before

Sleeping saint stones, now are as pale hearts
with no sense and distorted, reduced
simply to business chance or to a cue
for romantic dreams of old past artist

We are poor bad stones nightly when this
so rapacious world comes and grabs us
to confuse our mind turning it
into hip depraved conformism

We were Easter light stones in the past,
but as that rock stones we were sold to
the World Prince. Make us life again, Lord
that guide our way and the history

 

Abbaye de Fontfroide,

April, 23rd 2019

 

You can find here more informations about this holiday.

Italian version

Twilight

JB, that evening

 

I look at you so far from this loggia
while lights and colours turn on from windows
beyond the well of night that’s that lake.
A nightfall grips by fear now my world

You are there, in your houses, as usual
common business, and duties and laughs;
someone now prepares dinner or goes back
from his work and he’s welcome again

Yet now there are so powerful shadows
spread all over the world to bring terror
dark like black breath of worse ancient demons.
Make me one of your servants, God, Lord

January, 28th 2019

Italian version

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

I’m cold

JB, 2009

 

That pale sun comes back into the winter
that chills me childish like enthusiasms
about what I wish and I can do
to fix links that heavily go down
 

Also alcohol is back to help me
caterwauling so silly when I think
to be able to do and so playing
while we are far away

and I’m cold

 

November, 19th 2018

Italian version

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

Todo cambia

 

This scirocco breaks forests, breaks trees:
it is wrong and my world is wrong too,
black and soaked with so mad bad feelings
everywhere saturated by evil
 

After storm, after days that were storm
now I write. Sense of fulness and peace
covers me. I dissolve my fatigue
while light breeze dispels smoke
 

A far woman sang that “Todo cambia“:
each thing changes and me and my world
and the wind and the clouds … yes: all changes
Stay with me, do not leave me, God come!

October, 31st 2018

 

Thank you Kristine: now I know this beautiful song and enjoy it.

 

Italian version