Pink lake

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JB, January 2022.

Pink lake: eutrophic space,
simply mirror of sunset
blue when blue is the sky,
grey when grey, pink when pink

Beauty is there a reflection of light
even Tindall or Rayleigh game, joke
it’s substance of another
it gives us sky as gift

Pink lake rests in the plain
waiting for evening, night
while the lights of Mankind
pale and shy slowly start

I’ve no Beauty to share
when I’m only myself,
selfish skin filled with
my things, thoughts and hopes too

Pink lakes force us to watch
higher, up to the Sky.
Let me be pink and thus
be a mirror of God

January, 19th 2022

Tin wind vane creaks

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JB, 2009. No neat night, but that’s the same roof.

How the tin wind vane creaks
when the wind turns around
messy like without way
in this so neat dark night

It groans shrill and its face
turns the other way with
no point to look at, with
nothing that could be sense

I am like it when I
watch around without be
inside my gaze, so that
I long for useless lives

Following any changes
of the wind this clear night
makes my rusty heart creak,
useless life toward death

December, 27th 2021

Italian version

Wish

wish

JB, Elven Forest, today

When the night quickly comes like a ghost,
a dark velvet or silence, old veil
often bringing us pain memories …
I wish to be your wish and desire

When the moon rises so large and white
like a girl in love yet pure and chaste
and we feel to be such a poor thing …
I too wish to be wish and desire

When my purple spreads through all my neck
and my cheeks and elsewhere too
there where you want to touch my shy skin …
I must be your wish and your desire

When the fog deletes trees and each thing
in this world and we are like blind cats
without home, with no sense and no hope …
I want to be your wish and desire

When the death strikes so hard just near us
stealing from us what we need so much
and I shiver with fear and with cold …
I need to be your wish and desire

January, 1st 2022

My dear friend Terry made this beautiful photo after she read my words:

wish_terry

Give me

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JB our nativity scene

Give me reward again in the night
when it’s dark and I hug you and my skin
waits for you like a poor parched pool
to find peace at least for only an instant

Making love, tremors fill all my flesh
shaking it in my chest, belly and
everywhere. So, I burn, sacrifice
to that life really mattering, true

Give me you, all you and not just some:
give me your hands and mouth. Your mind
be with me only one, only substance
to show that I can truly exist

Take me quite as I am, take my evil
and the good which I can: it’s so little.
I am as a well, hole, a basin, pool
restless and edgy shorn of its fullness

Give me your eyes and thus let me see
where you look at the end of each thing,
there where all starts and all can begin,
there where lives God who made us alive

Let I can grow again and hold up
this my body and my spirit, tired
after years of great sloth and great pride.

On my knees, near the crib, each thing is

December, 13th 2021

I’m that one

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JB, yesterday, after we made our nativity scene

 

I’m that one who now sleeps on the grass
near the heat of the fire freeing our
body and mind from cold thoughts
where so often each one can get lost

Both a shepherd or woman, doesn’t matter
we are the same deep down in our Mankind
strange and fickle and now very tired
fighting between emotions and reason

I’m that one and he sleeps near the warmth
of all common and usual safe things
I sleep while all the universe changes
while light and its true sense is being born

They say that the crib is from Benino’s (*)
dream and that he sees all our Earth
change its shape and substance and essence
up to be like a new paradise

Yet I’m that one who sleeps: I’m distracted
by my standard and permanent sloth
or by a sudden one that can reach
me just here while each thing resurrects

If You want, take me out from these weird
shadow days chasing gloomy solstices
while this cold rules all my queer odd world:
I’ll become what I am: only answer

 

December, 11th 2021

 

* Benino is a character of the Neapolitan nativity scene: he is the sleeper.

Italian version

Torn and thorns

 

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Pic found here, by Awentree

 

Torn
as an old worn white shirt
meeting thorns on its way
I am torn.
I’m bound, broken
and I’m naked and torn

Cold dry air hurts my skin
like ice breath from wastelands
Winter wins now my life.
I feel used up, worn.
I am torn

Thorns as bugs
bad black bugs
creep and crawl on my skin, tearing even
inside
where I’m torn.

Thoughts are thorns
scampering everywhere
as a frisk in my soul
to find what?
Pain and thorns

Come on, please,
come here soon
don’t let this advent be
sadness, cold, ripped skin
and soul torn.
Came on, please
be my whole

 

My home, December, 4th 2021

 

Now it’s cold

 

To my mom

 

Now it’s cold, here is cold
while we walk toward winter

 

Each thing cold where you walk toward were
I don’t’ know, you don’t know,
only hopes

 

Only hopes, holy thoughts, our faith
while you walk toward Him

 

I know that He loves you
so you will be together
with your husband: my dad
and your brothers, because
you are the latter

 

Now it’s cold, here is cold
while you walk toward winter
toward more light, maybe.
Toward more light: I’m sure

 

November, 20th 2021

 

Windows of spring

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JB, 2021: one of those Great tits around my house

 

As a window of spring, some Great tits
came again near my home and now chirp
whilst my time runs to solstice, when dark
wins each day against light, more and more

As a window of spring your green eyes
came again near my face and my lips
met your mouth, in the dark, before that
sleep won against my mind and my hands

We need windows of spring in the life
where we run toward dark, pain and death.
Green grass, trees, Tits and you are refrains
in the song of my life made by God

 

My home, November, 13rd 2021

 

Black Lake

Terry's winter land 2021

A pic I took in the last Terry’s work

(Thank you to my friend Terrygold for the last beautiful landscape she built in Second Life. This winter land remembers me a trip I did many years ago to a place in my Alps, Lago Nero – Black Lake. Soon I’ll post the sources of these words on my Italian Blog; they are very symple words that you can easily understand simply using the Google translator)

 

Frozen landscape tells me ice and snow,
speaks to me of past times and old stories
about young girls and boys just grown up
where all my time was hereafter and further

White nice splendour of silence and peace
it remembers me that day, now far,
when I went to the black lake and its
ice surface began to break in spring

Like the blood of red poppies among
fields of wheat my days bloomed and brief
is their time. Cover, snow, my old stuff!
Because life is a so little thing

White cold peace in the countryside, here,
when time stood still as did in that day.
My mind is young again, even now
my skin withers yet expects still love

 

SL, Mystic Bay, November, 6th 2021

 

Nervous

Quel_pioppo

JB, many years ago, before I met my Love

(Thank you to Lizzie Gudkov who helped me with the English grammar)

 

This my body is getting so nervous
It wants you … yet you are away, busy

My skin now rises anxious and yearning
for your touches and cuddles… you’re far

My eyes look for your sweet green grey gaze
here’s a need for your face, lips and kisses

My mind is really upset and empty
I miss your closeness, your gentle love

My soul upsets itself if you’re far
I require you: please come, please come now

Your absence fills my days and my nights
it reminds me of my need for God

I can not get along without you
as I can’t get along without God
my hands grab only fog, smoke or mist
when I not lean myself against you

 

October, 30th 2021