I’m trapped in my home, so I cannot share here a better photo…I’m sorry
Anyway, sunset still floods with peace
us and yellow light comes. A breeze breathes.
A joyful blackbird plays near me,
herald of infinite souvenirs
Yes, we live and we’ll live in this world
that forgives and maintains us.
I thank You, my kind Lord, Father Lord,
fill my nothing with deep and strong wish
April, 25th 2020
Like a shadow I slip into nights
where I find dreams and nightmares and cats
lovely and wild, independent and black,
cute sweet girls making love and romance
I’m my shadow when slip into nights
without sense except feeling me good
without sobs, troubles and true life’s thoughts
yet I’m human, so my soul finds me
I’m not shadow, I wish sun and spring
no dream is better than my real life
when my Love hugs me thus God is here
and I pray “My Lord, please, save me now!“
April, 19th 2020
See also this one, maybe the same, maybe not
Like every year, our Easter eggs.
Such a strange Easter, this one, but Easter, anyway.
Because whatever happens, our victory is already here.
On condition that we don’t think to be alone and to win alone, and that we entrust ourselves to His people, to the people He has saved. To the Church.
Happy, holy, Easter to all you.
April, 12nd 2020
This beautiful photo and some words by Catherine made me write this stuff
As cold raindrops
from sky to a puddle
we all run down so fast
while our sun is pale ghost
as in winter, and cries.
It’s a shadow of what it should be,
only a sign of what it could… must be
Like cold raindrop
my soul stands thin, frail,
in this world puzzled, mad,
only a shadow of what it should be
only a memo of what I could be
I’m cold raindrop
that pours weak and dull
over strong lava rock
old and black.
That’s how world treats now me,
without take care of none.
I can’t scratch its surface.
Each cold raindrop
falls from sky to ground
I’m thus too when I trust
in my hands or my mind,
while heart dries up soon, fast.
Friday, now, my Christ dies.
There’s no raindrop
that falls without value.
Each thing goes towards place
God gave it before Time.
Three days after this pain,
after Petrus went out
and wept bitterly…
Three days after that rooster,
sun will bright again, more
Easter comes, anyway.
Easter comes, despite me.
April, 10th 2020
Pandemic, a cooperative board game.
My dear friend Kristine said me that in past time theatres closed during Lent because people thought that purple colour bring bad luck …
Each thing goes mad and a new disease,
faceless, rapes and outrages our minds
weak and poor and without anchorage.
Humans expel God from world then weep
Tonight rest ruins itself into grief;
soon new day will become dark for mists
and meantime full of empty silences.
Purple Lent closes world’s theatre now
February, 27th 2020
Well … it’s Christmas.
Some days ago, my dear friend Kristine shared me a strange song. I thought that I’ll used my frienship for Kristine, what I think about her deepest emotions and wishes, and some words of that song to write my 2019 Christmas wishes. I did so. Thank you Kristine. Be happy like I am. God is born. God came and comes in our so poor flesh!
These are my best wishes for next Holy Christmas.
Now I’ve into my mind and into my ears a sweet and peaceful music: John Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 147 “Jesus meine Freude” (Jesu, joy of man’s desiring).
I’ve into my deep all my darkness and all the night where i was on this Advent.
I wish Jesus be born. I know Jesus is born. I wish His light, His peace, His joy.
I wish all these good things also for all you.
Jesus, I need You
by Judy Barton on Christmas, 2019
When fog hides
any idea of each way
I’m alone into grey, where I stay
There no answer responds to my why
I’m my need, I don’t feed
my pale soul nor my mind.
I’m as hole
where I can’t see my joy.
I’m a homeless old bitch
I’m grass frost under birches
When each Sunday
stops to be the Lord’s day
I’m alone in a night without rest
there’s no one that responds to my why
You are my need, feed
my pale soul and my mind.
You fill my hole
bringing me peace and joy.
Be born and be my home: then I’ll switch
to green grass under birches
December, 20th-24th 2019
JB, December 2019
Shadow cups pour oppression tonight
covering both sky and all the world
early and squeeze my heart: it’s request
yet worn out due to abstinence from sense and truth
Amber cup of an old rancid oil
is my mind because always distracted
by somewhere else that avoids true life
so I fish for confused souvenirs
Shadows cup pours itself on the world
that wants no my God, that digests us
as a black monster blob made of anger.
I’m still looking for You, Baby Child
December, 9th 2019