Today we fight

 

 

(…) my brothers, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me.

A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.

An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day!

This day we fight!
By all that you hold dear on this good Earth (…)

Aragorn’s speech at the Black Gate,
from the movie “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King“

 

Well: last evening I watched again this beautiful movie.

I’m sorry: I must say that these words are not by J.R.R.Tolkien and we cannot find them into his book, but we can read in them some interesting expressions: brother, friend, fellowship, dear, good. And fight, of course.

Anyway these words describe our actual situation.
Each day we must fight against any evil power: first of all against our evil attitude. By all that we hold dear on this good Earth.

For our Love and for each we love.

And Aragorn uses “we”, not only “I”. We, brothers. We, friends. Our fellowship. Because “I” is simply nothing. Because “I” is without love.

In the same movie, in a similar situation, before a hopeless battle, King Theoden says:

(…) Ride now, ride now, ride! Ride for ruin and the world’s ending!
Death! Death! Death!

It’s really desperate and, in my opinion, without any sense. I cannot fight for death and ruin. I can and I must fight for Love and Good and Beauty. But not “I”: “we”. Toghether.

OK, I must admit it: I’m thinking of the Church.

 

Do and cannot

 

Castiglioncello, Tuscany, JB. July 2022. It’s that Athel tamarisk broken and reborn

 

Tamarisk grows back again; I turn
often off useless days trying to making
Now fatigue melts away and now peace

 

takes more space from the torment of maybe,
always shadow of “I do” and “I can’t”.

Nothing is enough when there’s no substance

 

July, 5th 2022

 

Italian version

Bad strong coffee

Pic from here

Strong black coffee I drank.
Now my mouth tastes bitter and thus
other lips would find testing my ones

To stand up, to be really upright
in this so weird, ill and naughty world
I need hugs and too cuddles: so blight
drops and I can be better than odd

No one can stand up, upright alone
each of us is just only a poor thing
our lives are all like a weak moan
we are as bird without any wing

Human beings … are such some poor thing
women, men, always thus: error prone
enough fragile to fall down, to cling
each day to someone else as a stone

Strong black coffee I am.
Like my mouth, tastes bitter me too.
Other lips wouldn’t test my ones more

SL, Elven Forest. June, 10th 2022

A knot (to Eucie)

She, Judy, that place, that day

Light and air made you as a cute sylph,
golden matter and diaphanous too
warmth to hug to not sense to be alone.
Trying to love sometimes seems to hug ghosts

There’s a knot between right and left side
There’s a knot bounding your light thin silk
There’s a knot hiding shy female things
where your body becomes left or right

Into a knot there are sweet secret things
that knot makes walk and dream my poor mind
so I feel weak and silly my heart.
There’s a knot before intimacy

I need places to rest, putting face
in safe soft friendly warm alive place
as a child, as a pet looking for
a nice and pleasant shelter to sleep

I perceive a knot into my flesh
rooted there, where I need love and breaths,
a knot rooted so much into me
to force my soul to think sinful thoughts

I’ve a knot deeply into my deep
I see a knot hiding shivers of love
I’m a knot between heaven and hells
Solve that knot, let me walk on safe ways

Light and air made you as a cute sylph,
gentle matter and diaphanous too
warmth to hug to not sense to be alone.
Dreaming love sometimes is as hug ghosts

SL, Elven Forest, May, 13th 2022

Dry earth

Pic found here

Dry earth, tired of dust moans at my
footsteps so that a weird and odd creaking
cries chords of a life that’s something missing.
“Water!” begs the desert of each meaning

Dry earth is now as dust where I walk
tired, listening to silence of
no one rising from flat dark nowhere:
empty meaningless space of these days

I’m dry earth. I need fresh dew that could
flow and be both allusion and notice
to spring turgors, now, nowadays lost.
My skin is filling with lines and pains.

Here the earth dries up and wears out more
the day that folds itself to the night
senseless of one who is slave of instinct.
Give us You, water and light that’s missing

March, 28th 2022

Italian version

Tin wind vane creaks

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

Windshield

 

I wrote today stuff after I saw Catherine pic and words on her blog, here. This pic is by her.

Our eyes often cannot see how
the real world is, as when falling rain
flows across window’s glasses so that
all things change into hazy pale forms

And so often my eyes don’t see how
real things, people and thoughts truly are
as when rain falls on my windshield and
changes roads to perverted bad dreams

Human eyes seem built to do not see
the world that is beyond their small glasses
rough and imprecise shapes of each thing
become dream, nightmare, not real facts

Please, cut off cataracts from my eyes,
from my mind so that I will can see
iuxta propria principia Your world,
finding in it my true sense, my way

 

on the WEB, visiting Catherine blog, October, 15th 2021

 

To my daughter

 

JB 2021, The Twins (near Alimonta Shelter)

 

You run nimbly, joy and freshness spreading,
aware of your so young and firm muscles.
On the path sloping down among stones
I see myself in you and tail you

Then my legs give in and I can not
keep your young rate and follow your steps.
You go away and I slow down, laughing.
My time gets shorter, yours rises higher

 

Coming back from Alimonta Shelter, August, 9th 2021

Italian version

Subimago

 

JB 2021, Val Nambrone

 

I don’t care if each step is a pain,
maybe due to a sore leg sinew.
Each peak of Brenta Dolomites smiles
while white clouds gentle mantle its rock

Here and there icy, clear water cuts
somewhere, sometimes my path, breaking off
fords and bridges, so -forcing delays.
Wealth of splashes is wonder

Last days rain filled streams, filled floods
and they vent showing powerful joy.
In the crystal clear ponds I can see
mayflies, pearls, and white Geridae

They will rise – it is time – from the water
sub-images and images fully made:
they’ll be light, a new fluid to enjoy,
tiny ascending as dance in the air

Fleeting sub-image, I dance like them.
I too would like to cast off my skin
old and tired and beautiful rise
truly how You made me: it’s my song

 

Milegna, August, 5th 2021

 

Italian version

 

Rag doll

 

It’s a machinima by Kristine.

My friend Aola showed me a poetry she wrote about Second Life Rag dolls; it was really impressive for me, so that I asked her permission to stole and corrupt her nice work; after it, Kristine remembered me her short video… Then I wrote this post.

As a rag doll I go
across my second life,
a soft puppet made with threadbare rags
an old stuff built with pieces of cloth

If I’m here
that’s because life broke me like it did
to you too

I’ve my Love and my faith
I am blessed and lucky and I …
I was lucky till now … and thus why
do I need something else?

As rag dolls all we go
across each life we have,
like soft weak, fragile puppet that are
really unable to stand up alone

We are here
because we look for what
each of us cannot gain without help…
What is it? Our way, our peace.
Our sense

 

SL, Elven Forest, April, 1st 2021