Now my bed turns to gold

JB 2017

 

Now
gold and light make together my bed.
Yellow, orange and blue paint sharp drawings
demonstrating an order, a sense
After the confused darkness of winter

 
Rich in gold and so precious my bed,
it is like when you touch my nude skin,
You, the sweet love that lives in my depths.
I feel peace overnight, when I’m sleeping

 
Now my bed turns to gold and it shines
as the light in the room and reflects
my thoughts full of the warmth of affection.
You are my spring and you scatter my winter

 

May, 31th 2015

 

Italian version

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White and pure

Anemone nemorosa in wood. JB, 2017.

 

This silly spring song is dedicated to Angel Morning

 

Almost spring, sunny day, winter goes
in the grey velvet of each past times.
Under young woods the anemone's light
is the breath of the new life that cries

          White and pure, fresh and lovely
          you start dancing cute and lonely

Each tear drop that falls from the sky
like the kiss of dew on morning grass
recalls me that each thing must fast run
toward cold places; I always ask "Why?"

          White and pure, you are so lively.
          When you dance I grow sad, lonely

When the sunlight becomes low and shy
as at the sunset, when the mist wins,
leading me though me toward black nights,
I am a shiver that seeks my Love's eyes

          White is your soul, I am ugly
          like a savage herb, a pussly

Sin and death are deep in me: a fight.
As in a dream I saw you this morning
dancing alone in the wood clearing.
You are anemone light, fresh and white

          Without thoughts of sin, lovely
          you dance cool. I look at you freely



Second Life, Elven Forest, March, 11th 2017

Thank you to my dear friend BC for his suggestion to my bad english

 

You introduce me

You introduce me to the sun today
when the summer is falling into autumn
and the night wins again on the day
and my face grows old while I watch you

You reflect the sun also today.
The equinox just went down and the mist
demurely dresses brown dry old twigs
that already sleep dreaming for leaves

You were sun and it was autumn day
in the strange old age owned by Rome;
we were young and my being across
the time was quite without any reason

You direct my gaze towards the sun
even if the time hurts also you
and my anger denies all the light.
In your eyes I see marks of splendour

September, 23^rd 2016

Italian version

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

 

Beyond the space

Till now I posted here only fresh stuffs, yet the last things I’m posting are made by old words that describe my previous life, the one before I met my Love.

That fact explains why the style is so different and also why the contents tend to despair. Just this week, thanks to an idea of my friend Leda, I’m finishing another work named “Chiaroscuro” (that is “Light and dark”) in which I fix chronologically this existential transition between light and darkness, which also at present still crosses my days , although no more in such desperate tones.

 

Beyond the space,
Further the light
Of the stars
There’s a shrunk world
All encrusted with boredom

Italian version

Chiaroscuro (Dark and light)

Photo by Judy Barton, 2011

 

Chiaroscuro every day moves forward,
as expression and moment, variation
of each life that soaks deeply my chest,
blind boost made by emotion and knowledge
 

I’m a lot of collected contraries,
lazy waiting or burning delirium
for each type of goods and rich vocation.
I am frost that the sun can well solve
 

Be now you to melt frost: here’s the dawn
of the white season closing each light,
every dark, every breath, everyone.
Dissolve scabs so the light could gush out

September, 21st 2016

 

Italian version

Dark and light – part two

Photo by Judy Barton, 2009

 

As I am, you will always can see.
I should be slutness, darkness,
curse against life and God, for I’m bad
when alone with my flesh: that’s my cry
 
 
Sometimes I am my beast; I could list
all my evils and sins full of nights,
grown as wrinkles which hope to be smooth.
But I’m a devoted bride, I’m a wife
 
 

I’m my skin and my grey shadow, sad,
but you can turn me into bright light.
Don’t you let me alone with my crowds
deep inside my corrupt and fool mind
 
 

As I am, you will always may see.
I am often impervious to the others:
To avoid any abuse, I’m my mask,
but you can free myself from my nights
 
 

Please, now take me, breathe me and my mind
even if I can choke who sighs so
close to me. You take me, here, now, just!
I’m poor thing, nothing else, without love

 

September,11th 2016

 

Italian version