Pentecost strong wind


Pic from here

This strong wind now is ruffling
each leaf of any tree and sweeps up
my hair too. There’s a wave
made by freshness that strikes all my world

You are strong wind perturbing
every day my life and you sweep up
my sad being. You’re a wave
made by sweetness, comforting my world

Like a strong wind you’re ruffling
every leaf, every day and replace
my thoughts too. Your sweet wave
moves to love: you’re my world

But your strong wind is thinning
days and things to themselves and trips up
my conscience. Be a wave
again, go toward God and his world

You, my strong wind, don’t take
each aspect of my life, so please break
this my evil and be you the wave
that directs my old keel the world

June, 4th 2022

Italian version

Blood waves

Lanora 1aLanora 1b

Stuff written watching last Solfrid paint, the one here above in a sequence of two, named 1a and 1b. Blood waves is only the title of my stuff.

Anyway, I’m happy she restarted to paint!

Blood waves grow and branch out till the canvas
shows no more than a crimson large space.
Like a nightmarish time we do live
here and now during such odd bad days

Without thinking we go ahead. We
manage sadness with dreams and love hopes
Yet emotion is only instincts’ slave
so denies space to reason and knowledge

I felt never myself silly as
in the present time when evils swell
up again showing terrible faces
to an old feeble mankind that falls

Blood waves arise like warped image
and fill a second canvas with pain
that increases and enters my mind.
Absurd war and apostasy. Death

SL – Peaceful Land, April, 9th 2022

This wave

Photo by JB, 2018


I already know this wave, its side
toward me, toward returns to beach
firm and usual, full of all my going…
I beg You: take my ship away from its port.

 Give me a further that drown any pale
norm, a stagnant backwash, empty roaming
across all usual seasons and balance
that sleeps dreaming about silly itself

 Give me impulse to face the blue of
Your so distant clear sky and the night
of my confused heart, of my nothing.
Let me be like a life, like its bloom


July, 9th 2018


Italian version

My true sea

Photo by GB, 2016


This one is my true sea
it’s my plain with its jewels: the lakes
its waves are all the Brianza slow hills
leading me to my highlands, the Alps

Water sea is all equal to itself.
I need signs in the land to walk to
peace and joy: I need poplars and oaks
when my fog hides the sun and the truth

In my earth sea I need
you and your eyes, your glance
to see better myself and the way
where we go, go together, go ahead


November, 27th 2017

Italian version



Picture reworked by JB, 2017

Kiss Me
where my body makes me really a woman,
mix your love to desire and warm up
my blood till to my cheeks and the neck;
so I am greedy spasm that wants all

Drink me
where my chest again blooms showing buds
pushing out greedy, looking for love,
calling you and pride substance displaying
my skin still tensed up for a little

Have me
where I close my eyes asking you all
what you can and moreover the life
now, right now, and for ever and ever
and more life compared with what you could

Brush me
where I seek everything and more inwardly
inside my flesh and my heart, when my
mind shocks me turning anxiety to a question
that does not quench the thirst that so raises

Give me
that peace that you can give to myself
while I tremble and beg, satisfy
me so that the night flares up like purple
when I am for you gift while I’m asking

Bring me
away, where the sky joins the Earth
to a big something that I want reach
further the wave that upsets the sea.
Make me wing and both whisper and music

Find me
when I’m lost and so betray my good
on the reefs, and the abyss sees me,
clasp me to you and call me, wake up
my soul and so a prayer can flow


February, 19th 2017

Italian version

After all


A beautiful photo by Anibrm Joung. Tank you Anibrm!

A long queue of poles enters the sea
as the wish to run toward the sky
where two landscapes quite different meet
each the other, where perhaps there’s true

Where do they go forward? To the sea?
They can not reach the line so far, there
the horizon is still farther, none
of those poles can go there to see God

I’m a beach, sandy place under waves
that come here then along always go.
My life swings like those cold and blue waves
my thoughts like those poles want to go there

All the lives are a wave: stop and go
start again, up and down, then be back.
After all, yet a gap then that line
which confuses my mind like my end

SL, Blue Curacao, January, 21st 2017


Italian version

Each down is


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

Shivers grow on the skin

Thank you carlo/klimt fot this pic! (original there:


Shivers grow on the skin like spring waves
looking at your green eyes, at the soul
that you hide deeper, behind the face.
Shivers grow both in my conscience now

Shivers move the lake’s water: the wind
is the lover, deep blue is the sky.
I’m a grey stuff, a stone in the fog
of this winter, a sequence of absence

January, 28th 2014

The waves: Judy and Virginia – Le onde: Judy e Virginia

(Virginia Woolf, “The waves” author)

Woman saw woman in the sunrise
in the rise of the light at the morning
Woman saw in the sea the wave widens
and deep into herself all the waves mixed

I feel me inside her, I feel strongly
her inside me and find myself into
every face of her character painted
and in her sun, her sea and her waves …

A lot of second lives I go across
I am everyone and both none.
I cling to the usual thing, I don’t look
at my destiny while my time runs

Behind all my words I hide myself
showing me
only to my love or to far fellows.
Many people compressed I am.

When I safe and undressed I lie
in the night and to a maiden I fit
what I feel, who I am, what I wish,
then I see my soul nude as well me

I enjoy the pale winter sun warmth:
on the wall my limbs cramped I spread
whilst my soul is vibrating and checks
of each mask its reflections and waves

Everyone I would be at the same time,
all those which my skin usual surrounds;
I would take beauty from each my mask
as a crystal reveal me and enjoy

The shore brokes any rush
while the light faints into the time.
Jinny grows old, perhaps
Luis is mourning that kiss in the edge.
Rhoda dies; never close any phrases
Bernard, Neville stops
all his words.
Susan tired looks at her old hands.

What has been is befallen, still stays
only a question: why so much?

Thursday, 7th february 2013

Vide donna romantica donna
nella luce del sole dell’alba.
Vide l’onda nel mare allargarsi
e in sé le onde di tutti mischiarsi

Sono dentro lei, io forte sento
lei in me e mi scopro nei volti
delle facce che penna dipinse
e nel sole, nel mare e le onde …

Molte vite seconde attraverso:
sono tutte e nessuna. Mi stringo
nelle cose di sempre e non guardo
il destino nel tempo che corre.

Mi nascondo
in parole e mi mostro soltanto
nell’amore o a compagni distanti.
Sono tanti, in un corpo compressi.

Quando giaccio sicura mi spoglio
nella notte e a ragazza conformo
ciò che sento e che sono, che voglio
e me guardo.

Godo il caldo del sole d’inverno:
rattrappite le membra distendo
mentre l’anima accerta vibrando
d’ogni maschera le onde e riflessi

Vorrei essere tutti ad un tempo
quelli che la mia pelle circonda;
d’ogni maschera assumere il bello
e cristallo svelarmi e goderne

Frange scoglio del mare ogni slancio
mentre sviene la luce nel tempo.
Jinny invecchia, Luis forse rimpiange
nella siepe quel bacio.
Rhoda muore; non chiude le frasi
Bernard, Neville
dismette parole.
Susan stanca si guarda le mani.

Ciò che è stato è successo ed avanza
solo ancora domanda: a che tanto?

The waves: Susan – Le onde: Susan

(pic from: Shay’s Word Garden: Troika)

Never sleeps a wild beast in my eyes
nor quiets down. I’m the dirt,
the beech roots and those gaps in the hedge
where her kiss you, my hate.

Primal girl, I a cradle surround
of rough, feral, maternal instinct.
I’m the daughter who daughters defends
in the sunlight or by night, anyway

I do not have a sea and my wave
is immediate drive, it’s the strength
of frost moors, of the shadow that crouches
in the quivering, ancient forests

Tuesday, 5th february 2013


Una belva selvaggia negli occhi
mai s’acquieta. Conosco la terra,
le radici dei faggi e quei varchi
nella siepe e quel bacio, mia rabbia.

Primitiva, una culla circondo
di selvatico e ferino istinto.
Sono stirpe che stirpe difende
nella luce o la notte, comunque

Non ho mare e il mio fremito d’onda
è pulsione immediata di forza,
di gelate brughiere, dell’ombra
che si acquatta nel bosco fremente