Where does lead … ?

J.B. 2018

 

Where does lead my road this so grey morning?
Into fog that wraps heavily all things
frosty grass, rimy stubbles and dark
trees that seem only scattered skeletons
 

Where does lead my road also today?
Towards gates of a new confused day
that together throws deadlines and blackmails
some small things to do before night come
 

Where do lead again roads anyway?
Into a world I no more understand
where perhaps hope goes bad ...
I know that there is sun above here
                           give me it

 

December, 18th 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

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

Cozy

hand

 

(a joke with Melissa)

 

That morning I entered the chat and saw Melissa, never seen before nor after.
I was alone in my home, waked up a little before.
She said me something using this word: “cozy”, so i learned it. I also liked this new word.

 

 

Velvet dark is the night
like soft sheet, cozy bed
in which dreams can go on
 

Cozy thoughts come to me
while the sunshine begins
touching warm sheets you left
 

Outside here
fog and frost win the day.
Come back here cozy Love

I need your skin and lips


 

SL, Corchalo, December, 12th 2016

Falcons twirling

IMG_1384_internet

Photo by J.B., 2009

 

My thoughts are alike games of two falcons
twirling and pirouetting delighted
in the fresh morning air when the sunshine
absolves me from my recursive mists

The dew covers the low simple lives:
within the grass there is silver now.
I look at naked, dark, silent trees,
intertwined black hopes of the leaves

 

Italian version

Each down is

Waves

Photo found here

Everything is born dead as a recycling
of old and past impulses and rhythms
which swell and fade away, of the waves
that in a bigger one rest and then hide

Each dawn is a beginning that falls
in the night and each night rises from
a solstice to a solstice and goes on
celebrating provisional ages

Above I have a dark eddy of cold
and there a far infinite horizon
where the sea dissolves all the black sky
in the absolute mystery of waves

Inside I have a heart that beats questions
and reflections of the presences
which make me, while they change assonances
of the pure characters that I mix

You see only a woman, but I many
inside me. I’m a wave made by waves,
heteronyms that I create and paint
in a cycle that I see and don’t lie

Everything dies then born otherwise
such as flashes of light in the dawn
made by different colours, by charm,
made by hopes and strains. Made by looks

 

June, 23rd 2015

 

Italian version here