So short skirts

 

Of course, no pic here!

 

 

Girls walk across my street, they display
so short skirts and suntanned skin, legs
slender, beautiful, young and quite firm.
Their hair is fresh as smiles in the wind

Others go with light top, short pants and
sneakers. They move light and steadfast: they
go to run along canal towpaths
alone with their thoughts, hopes and their faiths

Each leap is a soft dance of their chests,
guiltless bounce, free and cute as birds jumps.
Their race moves also me, in my deep
and I feel languor and a strange sweetness

Then a desire for love takes me strongly
as a mind trap and I dream caresses
on my thickening and hungry skin
and it thrills and vibrates like a shiver

I will look for your warmth tonight, please:
do not withdraw from me, give me peace,
don’t leave me in my naughty bad dreams
give me peace and comfort my wild flesh

 

August, 23rd 2021

 

Italian version

Summer again

JB

 

Now is summer again, it is back
with its warmth and the wish to be close
and lay down and so listen to our
breaths and hearts running fast in the chest

Now it’s refreshing night; still a gentle
breeze softly cradles us and near me
the wisteria leaves so full of life
are a complex green lace in the shade

A dark moth looks for me in the darkness
she is following tastes while the pale
light of a yellow lamp catches her vague roaming
and traps her silent velvet

My mind sees you and your lovely thrill
during love, in the white of the bed
which holds us and hides us, where we are
two together yet only one soul

Also that invisible disease
now calms down due to warmth
and frees us from our worry, a bit.
See: so little can make us like dance

June, 19th 2021

Italian version

Homeless wave 2

homeless wave

Homeless wave, by AtélieKemi

 

 

I dream of a wild, a giant wave
white foam shaking the deep blue immobility:
stagnancy
widespread on ocean bottoms

I am the wave and I wander restlessly
with no place to sleep quiet,
without peace in the senses; my body
grows old and yet it craves caresses

Each of us is the wave, and we’re restless
if love doesn’t touch us, if anyone
never looks at us with sharp desire
to be one with us in sweet embrace

There’s no peace for the wave in the world
of concrete yet distracted earth things.
The Reality is larger than what
forces us and cages us: it’s the death

 

 

May, 1st 2021

 

(English version translated from the original Italian one)

Homeless wave

homeless wave

Homeless wave, by AtélieKemi

 

There’s a tower, just there, near the corner,
strong thin matter, as one of us, standing
near the giant sea that has no limits
to its power or strength or time also

A large wave as anomalous shiver
shines so white, like a pure and clean spirit,
or breath came from a powerful goddess
of the past, when all was only silence

It’s explosion of white: foam and water
with no rest hit and upset the blue
quiet depths yet it is without evil
as wild something who shouts to be alive

We are watching at that nature’s play,
weak and little as poor tiny creatures
waiting for that wave could bring back here
something found at the end of the sky

The wave goes and returns and again
brings us toward that weird foreign sky
and then back to the dry ground and more
again there, again here, so we are puzzled

By the sea side the wave sees us here
near the tower, on our safe dryland
brown and dark, with no green grass nor trees
as a still place where life seems an absence

Each of us is a homeless wave, often,
because life is so small, narrow, tight
and the world can not cage our wishes.
There’s no home here for our swollen souls

Our nothing is a so sharp feeling
as that black thin high tower, the corner
of the picture … and we are that nothing.
Yet we know that we are and we love

 

 

May, 1st 2021

Sudden Light, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Sudden Light
D.G.Rossetti

Rossetti in a photo by Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson), albumen print, 7 October 1863

Pic from here

I have been here before,
but when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
the sweet keen smell,
the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,
how long ago I may not know:
but just when at that swallow’s soar
your neck turned so,
some veil did fall,
I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time’s eddying flight
still with our lives our love restore
in death’s despite,
and day and night yield one delight once more?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I always considered Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelite authors something like too much sentimental, romantic like, decadent.

Some days ago a friend told me more about them and I needed to know more abou them.

Well, I like these words much more than his paintings.

That friend said me that she finds something similar in my words and in Pre-Raphaelite ones: I am so proud for that, even if I think I am really so far from any real poet… Indeed, the idea to put into poetic stuff spiritual contents is what I try when i describes what i see or what i feel.

And now I am looking for other Rossetti’s words.

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

It was night

Photo by Cherry Laithang. I found it here.

 

 

These nights I was awake and desire
did suspend everything from the dark
like does willpower when cannot act
like a life that can not be complete

Tonight you met my wishes, my needs
so you sprinkled my skin with your sighs
as a precious balm and sweet fragrance
everywhere up to my womanhood

It was night and there was soft warm skin
around me and no more dark bad things
in my deep and some whispers began strange
love song …
We’re in love and Who is love offers life

 

SL, Elven Forest,
November, 21th 2020

Nightwish

 

When I feel myself as a black witch
your warm skin is my usual night wish
making my body crazy and your lips
warm and sweet eat my flesh so I twitch

I’m full often of dirty night wish
when dark cloud ends so fast every day
covering hopes and too dreams and I’m selfish
like a baby child that needs to play

Black and angry like that so bad bitch
that scared Dante and tried to him slay,
my lust grows as alone and weird birch
to whip my weak soul dreams while I liey

Without hide every worry and grief
I lie down on my bed, I’m a wait.
You are what I need on this poor Earth,
you are my only beautiful
                                           night wish


SL, Galadriel Mirror,
January, 20th 2019-October,10th 2020

Harpsichord

Chatting with my friend Aola and her autoharps…

I’ve some buttons, you know
how touch them to vibrate
my deep chords and my senses:
thus I feel
                 joy and peace

I’ve some buttons, I know
most of them and my chords.
I can feel them vibrating
thus I gaze
                 me to live

I don’t know all my chords
and my buttons. Someone lies
on my skin, someone hides
deeply into
                 my nights

I know I’ve locked chords,
buttons too: that’s my soul.
My skin needs other touch,
my heart too.
                  It’s to live

SL, Elven Forest, October, 20th 2020