Modest redstart

Photo by JB, 2018

 

Modest redstart watches me behind
old wisterias and then comes down here
on loose gravel where frisks looking something
at the ground as I too often do
 

I feel birds’ joy and freshness that chirps
in the clear and bright light of the day
while I smoke slowly thoughts in the shadow.
Just this moment is beautiful God

 

June, 15th 2018

 

Italian version

 

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Dawn and sunset

 

Photo by JB, 2016

 

Maybe dawn can resolve any sunset,
vain world travel towards the main night
who wins us every day anyway,
like the nothing that dries up each thing
 

“Never” as well as “always” is not
nested word into mankind assets.
Someone else can define the absolute
and He lives it without a beginning
 

You elect me, my free jump provoking
as can water do running towards
fields that drink and give us their green life.
So I am if I belong to You
 

Beyond any idea, craving, wish
about what I believe and I can
You make me something possible, life.
Yes, You’re dawn that resolve sunset, night

 

Rimini, April, 20th 2018

 

Italian version

Wallflower

Photo by JB, 2018

 

Stock plant uses violence against silence
of the moderate stones that grasp greedy
tonight breaths of last sun on the hill.
Soon we’ll go back to Italy again
 

You’ll stay here, where you work, maybe for
a year that you’ll add to prior ones.
You’ll stay here to prepare your main hope
that is future and family: news
 

It is hard letting you could do it
like the wallflower lives on the stones
near the time marked there, on the tower
of the closed nice church. Never mind.
 

It is difficult standing apart,
son, and let you go, who knows…there
on each unknown road, you so, so new,
while we are old and heavy and closed
 

Our greatest strong prayer you are
you, together with your sister young.
May God help you to be, to be better
than I am, I who now line up rubble

 

Montferrier sur Lez, April, 4th 2018

 

Italian version

Ochres

pic by JB, 2018

 

Vivid red earth here burns and her blood
raises as violent cry to sky,
as a flame that begs for existence.
Ochres are a magnificent spasm
 

They shine as does the light in the deep
upset when a day starts, like life does
in the dark depths of woods
when they rise from the winter frost time
 

We were primitive, we were naïve,
like beasts innocent starved of senses.
With the hands and the earth here’s a dough
made by amazed, just early beauty
 

As this earth I beg You; my fragile
female flesh yearns for You. You graft me,
for You can, in the space of my way
while I ask never filled true matters

 

Roussillon, Le Sentier des Ocres,

April, 2nd 2018

Italian version

I’m back!

I’m sorry, but I had to work a lot in the last days, and I was lucky to have the Xmas holiday to close an important project.

So, I could not share here my stuff each saturday, as I try to do from years.

Yet, now, I’m back again and I hope you will se soon my silly thoughts here, again!

I wish you all the best in this new year. I am so grateful to this blog that allows me to meet a lot of so clever and interesting people all around the world!

 

Thanks you!

Judy, January, 15th 2018

Broken bridge

JB 2017

 

Broken bridge
as a life without sense
way not useful to go further, there,
ghost of roads on which nobody walks

Broken bridge
it’s a badly made building,
yet a symbol of selfish to be

Broken bridge
so each the other cannot ever meet.
Modern torture is cutting connections

We are alone in this poor darkness’ life

 

October, 29th 2017

Italian version

Red blood

JB, 2017

 

Red blood of an exotic Woodbine
lights again at the gates of the winter
in the gardens and among the stubbles,
where it pierces thick veil made by mist
 

Vivid purple flares up so much violent,
as if be woman’s flesh grown up turgid
that screams looking for love satisfaction.
I see lips tremble, lying in the grass
 

Red and green: that’s the life resurrection,
and is filled with beauty at the dawn
till the evening when I come back home.
I’m in love and desire you tonight

 

October, 16th 2017

Italian version