Empty mind

Pic by JB, 2018


Empty mind with no thoughts
doesn’t know what I am
lost in silly streams made
by mist, details and fog

Snow came, snow soon has gone
so the ground is back brown
mix of mud and fresh hopes
of sense and better days

A life’s breath splits the clouds
that invade all the things’
and thoughts’ space

In the winter’s cold March
can grow up

Italian version
March, 4th 2018


Wrong crossroads

Photo by J.B., 2018

This stuff can be considered my own version of some verses
red in a beautiful poem by Marina Raccanelli, where she writes in Italian

ora che il vento ci spinge
verso incroci sbagliati
sentieri senza biforcazioni

That is:

now when the wind drives us
toward wrong crossroads
paths without junctions

Marina shares her poem just when I am in a wrong crossroad, so her words move me so much …
Thank you Marina and forgive me that stole your words!


Silly wind of emotion led us
to the peace of impossible land
whilst we lost reason and real things

The same wind now drives us toward there,
to wrong crossroads, mad paths, where we don’t
see nor junctions nor truth nor ourselves

There, where our emotion is dead
as a bird hurled against the glass,
where the window is closing our dream

Here now only there’s silence and fog.


January, 29th 2018

My true sea

Photo by GB, 2016


This one is my true sea
it’s my plain with its jewels: the lakes
its waves are all the Brianza slow hills
leading me to my highlands, the Alps

Water sea is all equal to itself.
I need signs in the land to walk to
peace and joy: I need poplars and oaks
when my fog hides the sun and the truth

In my earth sea I need
you and your eyes, your glance
to see better myself and the way
where we go, go together, go ahead


November, 27th 2017

Italian version


Foggy smoke

Pic from here


Foggy smoke: so we are and the breeze
of the nightfall erases and melts us
like the breath of a child on a mirror:
like we’re nothing that nothing breaks up

Foggy smoke and its doubts fast corrodes
purity in all virginal looks.
So each smile turns into twisted sneer
where the love is just claimed domain

Too warm days in this fog. So rare freshness
and clarity too I research inside you,
in your eyes, which I spy while the close
of a so confused life haunts myself

After foggy smoke and at the evening
sweetness I meet again; the fatigue
of the affairs of the day calms itself.
Then I can hope some peace here with you

Foggy smoke, I soon vanish. Everywhere
I see silliness into this world
and in what I do too. Rarely at times
I surprise an immense, splendid Beauty


July, 4th 2017

Italian version


The Sunday of the Blind Man

J.B., 2017

The sharp steel of the plough
turns nude thighs made by earth
shaping clay into forms
of exotic brown women

Even if I can count
everyday in the mirror
many springs on my face,
this one twists hard my flesh

A light rain shines the field
where I cross lewd forms
and disperse silly thoughts
while I walk with you, talking

My mind is sick with fog
penetrating my depths
My desire is dull substance:
wash the mud from my eyes

March, 26th 2017

Italian version





(a joke with Melissa)


That morning I entered the chat and saw Melissa, never seen before nor after.
I was alone in my home, waked up a little before.
She said me something using this word: “cozy”, so i learned it. I also liked this new word.



Velvet dark is the night
like soft sheet, cozy bed
in which dreams can go on

Cozy thoughts come to me
while the sunshine begins
touching warm sheets you left

Outside here
fog and frost win the day.
Come back here cozy Love

I need your skin and lips


SL, Corchalo, December, 12th 2016


A joke for AngelRaya



Mitla at the door of the cave, in the Land of Arda

I entered the chat at the morning while She was saying bye the go to sleep, at the other side of the world…




As cold tears anywhere

the fog darkness hard hugs everyone,

kisses nude skin and lips

while I’m waiting for news.


Then and soon

a mad rush as the sun light hot strikes,

breaks each dream in my eyes, calls me to

my such grey, usual life.


I wake up, you go sleeping …

in a dream, maybe we

meet again

SL, Elven Forest chat, December, 10th 2016