I breathe peace in this sunset
among ivies, periwinkles and shadows.
I’m my smoke and I melt in the air …
who knows where evening’s breeze will take me
Instinct wind often overwhelmed my
heart and limbs and skin and reason too
toward far, dark and stranger landscapes.
I need order; in the evening
April, 5th 2020
Like a shadow I slip into nights
where I find dreams and nightmares and cats
lovely and wild, independent and black,
cute sweet girls making love and romance
I’m my shadow when slip into nights
without sense except feeling me good
without sobs, troubles and true life’s thoughts
yet I’m human, so my soul finds me
I’m not shadow, I wish sun and spring
no dream is better than my real life
when my Love hugs me thus God is here
and I pray “My Lord, please, save me now!“
April, 19th 2020
See also this one, maybe the same, maybe not
Judy in a dreaming wood spring, sl, today
Beyond hedge is a garden and further
things I already know and don’t know.
World is changing out there, far away
and we’re caged, a long way from Time
That hedge forces my view here but I
know a lot about shadows of woods,
about hidden things, like two-leaf squill
and wind flowers, pure white just now there
Beyond hedge which is edge to my place
there’s a garden and farther some woods
that I don’t see yet I see and know
how they are when awake from their sleep
A hedge is border to all my world
but there is further gardens and woods
and beyond, towards east and its dawn
where sun rises there is Easter light
April, 4th 2020
JB, March 2020
Now magnolia goes too far with life
exhibiting unlikely pink glitz.
Ancient flowers unclose to the world
in the garden awakening from sleep
We do not, we’re contracted, we’re suspect
to each other, avoiding disease.
Grass and blackbirds do not become ill
while get drunk under warmth of young sun
March, 13th 2020
Toward London together with my sons, 2017
After these rainy and strange and cold months
everything is well usual, awake
in the world of green life,
in this time
where already spring is warming up
You are peaceful too. I look at you
while you talk and have rest quietly.
What will do our sons to whom we
gave both life and sense to be in the world?
Now they go unsteady and shaky but
but they try as we too tried then.
Let’s give them all that field we could to have
when our time was so dense: a promise
May, 31st 2019
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 that is coming soon.
I’m like question in a desert land
March, 14th 2019
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
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
Photo by JB 2018
Golden chain yellow cries
as joy that weeps its life
Winter passed: we dance
like tits fallen in love in the woods
June, 7th 2018
Photo by JB, 2018
Grass and shrubs here devour all the light
and become lust for life and for colours
while distil fragrance into the air:
helichrysum and dreamy remembers
Buds swell fast among the sharp thorns
ripping each winter’s hard and brown scales
yellow colours spread right all around
and the heather’s flesh is purple blood
Oak trees show hard and prickly, strange leaves
dark and small; they are head bent so close
to the ground. Valerian lights up as it’s a red
flame and rough bindweed is slithering down
In the clear afternoon a strange calm
envelops me; I look at myself
into limestones corroded by years.
We were sounds and too colors. Thus once
St.Guilhem le Desert, April, 4th 2018