Thorns again

JB

 

Thorns again dress in white
in the evening, spreading sweetness
and life’s hope from nectar glands.
Winter stasis is over

Thorns dress sadness and white
in this evening of a dying world.
Life is smoke now, without
barycenter in which there’s hope

Thorns are naked and white
in the evening, wasting sweetness
given to dark coming soon.
I’m like question in a desert

 

March, 14th 2019

 

Italian version

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Lie, fake leaves

I hope I’ll tomorrow can share here a photo of mines!
I Just did it, and today is March, 31st 2019. Lol.

 

Any elm dresses lie that’s fake leaves
under an early sun that warms up
changes which we still can’t understand
in their whole and enormous huge power

Lent is only like a vague trouble,
inconvenience to me, as a room
desolate in which I look for door.
I need You if I escape from You

 

March, 28th 2019

 

Italian version

Another birthday

Photo by JB, 2014

 

Here we are again: a year more
fell due silently amid empty memories
that don’t give substance to this my present.
What is left of all travelled time?

Plum trees and buds wake up again, now
while I see new green in fields and woods.
Dry and dusty ground supports my steps
I think Easter is a far mirage

 

March, 17th 2019

Italian version

I no more know the stars

Pleiades (the Seven Sisters): picture found here

 

I no more know the Orion stars nor
lights of Tauros nor the Seven Sisters
that kidnapped my soul there, up, higher
while a deep shiver shook my young body
 

Sometimes they were so fearful, like giants
showing eternal and distant beauty
made red passion or colder blue light
the same colour of frozen hearts, ice
 

Then someone told me stars history
and how, there, heavy substance was born
to build us and to bind us to Earth,
as poor things yet astonished consciences
 

Now I walk and my eyes watch at tarmac
where I go, at the stench of the ugly
things we do and I do, without I
could jump like can do innocent child
 

All is done by the One who governs
it toward our rescue, that I shift,
treason of both the science and love.
Thus I substitute life while I sleep

 

January, 30th 2019

 

 

Italian version

Twilight

JB, that evening

 

I look at you so far from this loggia
while lights and colours turn on from windows
beyond the well of night that’s that lake.
A nightfall grips by fear now my world

You are there, in your houses, as usual
common business, and duties and laughs;
someone now prepares dinner or goes back
from his work and he’s welcome again

Yet now there are so powerful shadows
spread all over the world to bring terror
dark like black breath of worse ancient demons.
Make me one of your servants, God, Lord

January, 28th 2019

Italian version

Rime

In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.

 

JB, 2019

Winter ice freezes any trees’ shade
covering with thick and clotted frost fog
every branch, every trunk and this landscape.
In my heart I feel that rime and hoarfrost
 

Where are beautiful mountains’ white ghosts
which adorned my strange and flat sea:
the Po Plain waiting quiet for green life
dreaming any sap turgor of March?
 

Snow is now only an accident, chaos
really not virgin whiteness, it’s hitch
and I live into thoughts of old childs.
Lazy rest in the warmth of my bed.

 

Frebruary, 1st 2019

 

Italian versione here

A nickname

A photo of mine, 2019

 

In that chatroom, her nickname was Desert Rose.

 

A stone rose
scales herself
 

As crust plasters
hidden soul
 

With bronze thoughts
during days
 

Dried reflections
of calcite
 

Witness of
burnt dead seas
 

And of thoughts
buried deep
throughout the time
 

And of colours
in chalk frozen
 

A stone rose
scales myself

 

A mIRC chatroom, 2005