After holidays and winter flashes
there’s sun warmth.
I stretch out legs and arms.
All around mist congeals and blocks my
world and landscapes, remaining pale there
I begin to feel older myself,
to realize my acts are now more slow
despite my flesh that throws my mind far
toward young girl’s thoughts and toward dreams
I compressed emotions, a life
which now overflows causing this upset
that disturbs both my brain and my flesh,
old yet learning me as maiden stuff
Where did go years I spent, time I lost
without kisses and cuddles or smiles,
filled with duties and jobs that I now
feel so dry, feel so cold,
feel as lack?
I’m ashamed of so many words I
group with pens on sheets I hide, unknown:
those are outbursts of people I am,
schizophrenic mind without good drive
Other people are into my deep,
men and women that sometimes like flares
can arrive to my eye to look out:
here’s thus laughs, sometime cuddles
February, 14th 2020
Frozen countryside looks at me now
while I go and see background fog where
trees and houses drown down near the ground,
where a church and a tower float up
Frozen countryside waits for me so
that I go today too; background clumps
itself between ice fields under fog:
There I see tower, church and belfry
Frozen countryside stretches now here
pale footsteps between ditches and background
weakened by soft fog breaths in the wind.
I see churches and silence; a tower
Countryside now is frozen. I stretch
usual path and is background your face
beyond pale grey mist streams.
My flesh misses your sweet and warm love
Countryside is my frost field which, tired,
into each day path today is limping.
This fog enters me and it’s as background
a far Church. And I struggle
February, 3rd 2020
Photo by JB, there, that night
It’s so light air on ice
where we move sudden, heavy,
as dark bodies. White is everywhere.
For two days I’ve no worries with me
Frost now creaks under us: every weight
becomes noise without answer
and this shadow that Moon draws grey down
is surprise on the virgin snow ground
Really priceless is silence or panting
taking my breath away in the cold.
All my world tonight is black and white
and discloses new mountains, new stars
Bernina Pass, February, 16th 2019
In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.
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
(Photo by Melania)
Silly words born while I was chatting with a friend about a landscape built by Terrygold.
Maybe not silly at all.
What’s a winter dream? It’s as a scream
made by shadows that cover as cream
my frost skin; shivers’ stream
runs like hopeless bad sin
What’s a winter dream? It’s a flash, gleam
that moves me to be silly and write reams
clinging to thoughts rerunning same scheme.
Winter dream is too much my own theme
SL, Casvian Caye, January, 12th 2019
Where does lead my road this so grey morning?
Into fog that wraps heavily all things
frosty grass, rimy stubbles and dark
trees that seem only scattered skeletons
Where does lead my road also today?
Towards gates of a new confused day
that together throws deadlines and blackmails
some small things to do before night come
Where do lead again roads anyway?
Into a world I no more understand
where perhaps hope goes bad ...
I know that there is sun above here
give me it
December, 18th 2018
Thies beautiful image, described by nice words, is from this beautiful blog
Ice leaf, life
is no more into your green blood now
burnt and brown as dead ground
Tree leaf left
in the winter frost glass
that remembers when water flowed down
Leaves and lives
fossil signs of my soul
dreams and hopes about age without falls
On Seedbud blog,
December, 11th 2018
Here there is something in Italian about the same argument
That pale sun comes back into the winter
that chills me childish like enthusiasms
about what I wish and I can do
to fix links that heavily go down
Also alcohol is back to help me
caterwauling so silly when I think
to be able to do and so playing
while we are far away
and I’m cold
November, 19th 2018
I took this photo on February, 9th 2018
Days already get shorter and evening
runs to win leading us towards nights
with their sad load of dark feelings and
filled with boredom and mood of gloom
A wren tries timidly to throw colours
using his minute song while clouds now
dripping inhibit impulses to
any full turgor of summer life
I dream of dead who are now so many,
I confuse them with the living ones.
After which I see you in twilight
and your tender light breath calms me again
October, 29th 2018
Photo by JB, 2018
Some anemones still bloom within
their companions that dry any fruit
fitting so life and hope to this season
that decrees defeat and silence too
Also larch trees cry yellow leaves now
among leftovers of tired grass
aimed at signs of next winter start.
Maybe I too can bloom, if I can
Toward Col Portola, August, 24th 2018