Each thing shines

 

220px-cannaindica2

Pic from here

I wrote this stuff at first in Italian language, then I wrote this English version. That’s no merely a translation yet something new.
A nice surprise, for me

Each thing shines as life is light itself
grass and trees and the lake and small towns
also white rocks drink light, they that old
age and water vibrate hard chalk skin

Sharp cries by some cicadas from trees
increase feeling of distress and warmth
to be awake in this pale summer day
so that I am as a weak bankrupt doll

There’s a spot of vermillion down there
it’s an Indian shot happy for sun
giving its colour as gift to us.
I sit while my mind goes far from here

A church’s bell rings measuring the time
while it gives it a sense, a way, paths
where to go to be really life, light
for those that want find truth, beauty, God

Then a soft gentle breeze wraps my face
giving me refresh, relief, solace
whilst a large butterfly comes from woods
flying around me, buzz and Indian shot

I see: one is the life, it goes from
winter to summer, always again
yet it runs endless across the time.
I feel sap and blood flow as are friends

 

July, 24th 2021

 

The calla

JB: the new calla

 

In my garden the calla was yellow,
yet now purple it came back this year
and it’s larger, a bloom of tall leaves
with those spathes of violent flowers

Only few things are strictly coherent
with themselves and their substance
so that a lot goes changing so often.
Thus, the essence of facts can be fickle

I would like the world stable and pretty,
fitting to what I carry inside,
to the instances of meaning and peace,
to myself, poor collection of moments

I know that You are and rule everything
even the much I don’t understand.
Let me be where you call and want me
make me useful, not vain silly instinct

June, 27th 2021

Italian version

A white pain

Something soft, as grey mist
spreads across this small world
not like that red death mask
nor as black terror plague
sweetly it kills us now

I need eyes to watch in
I need hands to hold tight
I need friends to be close
I need love to be me

Something like a white pain
rides together with this
new weird virus and makes
mankind dull, forcing us
towards dreams

I need facts truly true
to be alive, to be far
from death innate in dreams
to be out
from that white without shape

Someone says that a man
resurrected by death
and He lives in his Church.


I decide to trust them
I need Christ who saves me
I need Him to change me
I need Him, to be me

Deep into
those clear eyes
I met Him
With those hands
He bears me
He was
is
in those friends

Unbelievable peace

April, 17th 2021

Rag doll

 

It’s a machinima by Kristine.

My friend Aola showed me a poetry she wrote about Second Life Rag dolls; it was really impressive for me, so that I asked her permission to stole and corrupt her nice work; after it, Kristine remembered me her short video… Then I wrote this post.

As a rag doll I go
across my second life,
a soft puppet made with threadbare rags
an old stuff built with pieces of cloth

If I’m here
that’s because life broke me like it did
to you too

I’ve my Love and my faith
I am blessed and lucky and I …
I was lucky till now … and thus why
do I need something else?

As rag dolls all we go
across each life we have,
like soft weak, fragile puppet that are
really unable to stand up alone

We are here
because we look for what
each of us cannot gain without help…
What is it? Our way, our peace.
Our sense

 

SL, Elven Forest, April, 1st 2021

 

It’s here spring

They, here, today, a few minutes ago

 

It’s here spring again, It’s here spring now
all my garden declares clearly that
with wild wide-awake flowers and bright
new green grass and a blackbird that skips

Also a plum tree had waked up early
and now sprouts it’s so many white buds.
Violets are a lot and they melt
themselves into fragrance in the breeze

It’s here spring again, it is now spring
wide awake flowers, farmed or wild
in my garden declare clearly that
and they’re violets, primroses,
                                                  hyacinths

Lent is running fast toward your Easter
it’s another strange one, without laughs,
among silenced roads, sirens, and
infinite vanity of the whole

It’s now spring again, anyway life
breaks as well nature stasis and mine.
Like a tulip I wait for a burst
of red petals: it’s your Easter, come!

 

 

March, 13th 2021

There is always a sunset

There is always a sunset, by

 

here is always a sunset because
each dawn sun rises higher again
to ensure that we are still alive
in this world made for us by you, Lord

Pain and joy are so close in this way
where we walk sometimes also with friends;
someone comes, someone goes far away…
someone dies… I remember each of them

There is always a sunset; sometimes
it’s the death of each light: everyday
light arises then falls in that pit
bottomless where dark eats everything

Let me think to that long lasting night
without sun, northern, or even worse:
to that infinite dawn that aborts
without shining of full light: a failure

Maybe it’s a sort of dirty  trick
where someone plays against us: a game
to confuse our poor minds with suns that
do not carry out their true purpose

Sometimes our life goes toward that dark
as if we were unable to do good
as if we were poor lives that escape
without beauty or love, without joy

I saw your so bright sunsets, so shining
filled with red and orange and blue
filled with joy, alive, artworks that
show us all that light that we all need

 

February, 28th 2021

 

Today (May, 7th 2021) I updated my stuff above according to my dear friend Leda suggestions

Passage of opportunity

Passage of opportunity, by Atélie Kemi

My friend Lanora let me find her paintings. I am really not into not figurative art, yet some of her works are really moving and full of colours. This is one of them. Thank you, Lanora.

 

There’s a bridge, somewhere, there in the sky.
When I’m happy and life is my friend
I can see it, bright red. It’s my way:
it’s a clear path and leads to your eyes

Someone says it’s a nonsense, weird bridge
that connects no land to nowhere place
because it seems to fly in the air
with no ground where it rises alone

There’s a bridge. It’s somewhere in the sky.
When I’m sad in a foggy grey world
I can imagine it, even when
I close my eyes I know it’s just there

Someone says it’s a coloured dream
and no more: silly, senseless and without purpose …
I know it exists so that my heart
may come to your one and to your God

So you painted that bridge, in the sky.
It’s my own and it’s there, as warm sign
into cold light blue tones. Yellow splash
like sun forces us to watch up, up to Heaven

February, 11th 2021

Today (May, 7th 2021) I updated my stuff above according to my dear friend Leda suggestions

Blue primrose

Sorry for this bad photo, but it’s evening here

 

Blue primrose puzzled in climate trap
fought against frost and snow, still alive
in this rainy, gray and no cold day,
sharing colour as dark stifled smile

I’m like her in these so changing times
in this world I’m not able to know,
to understand as I did in the past.
In the winter sad garden I stay

Would you come again, frost of past days?
Would You come into me, to stay, God?
I’ve no bright colours, I’ve no green leaves.
In my winter sad garden I pray

 

February, 6th 2021

 

Now

 

This is from my 2020 nativity scene

 

Now He comes. He will come. He is coming.

Oh! He is here.

He is everything I need, everything each of us needs.

He wants  to be everything for everybody.

He is so, really so, really now, yet we are blind.

I ask him that my heart could know what my reason already knows, so that I culd live in peace.

I ask that also for my friends.

Merry Holy Christmas.

 

Italian version

 

 

It’s so silent

Giotto: The Nativity in the Scrovegni Chapel, Padua

pic from here

 

It’s so silent and strange without snow
without laughs and surprised children eyes
in this bad alien world that I know

For the first time I’ll be at my home
at my so usual home, nearly alone
like a day among days. Normal days

Maybe next Christmas will be the same
like all my past ones: a special day
exquisite food and wines in that house
where I lived so much before now

Maybe this virus forces to watch
at this birthday for what really it’s
not all that opulence we can have
but the day when the Saint saves all us

Gloria in excelsis Deo: Christ soon comes

 

 

December, 20th 2020