To my mom
Now it’s cold, here is cold
while we walk toward winter
All is cold where you walk toward were
I don’t’ know, you don’t know,
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
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
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
When I saw those flowers I had to think to my usual wishes, yet there is a new fact to consider: a very close person is risking to lose an eye …
Serious pink as live flesh on dark bark
maybe last flowers before that gold:
wintersweet will give us winter’s joy
yet it will be into another year
Crimson pink, bloody flesh on dark bark
Juda tree that’ gets wrong so thinks bad
and October is seen like new spring:
this late autumn becomes as were March
Crimson serious pink, flesh as desire,
it’s skin wishing your skin, it’s my need,
it’s my wait and my hope.
It’s my reality and my dream too
Now a pink flower springs up and comes
as unhoped-for life, as a gift
whilst new winter draws near these weird days
silent days when light loses its way
October, 23rd 2021
Sorry for this bad photo, but it’s evening here
Blue primrose puzzled in climate trap
fought against frost and snow, still alive
in this rainy, gray and no cold day,
sharing colour as dark stifled smile
I’m like her in these so changing times
in this world I’m not able to know,
to understand as I did in the past.
In the winter sad garden I stay
Would you come again, frost of past days?
Would You come into me, to stay, God?
I’ve no bright colours, I’ve no green leaves.
In my winter sad garden I pray
February, 6th 2021
Well, I know this is not a nice stuff. Anyway, please, consider that words left far from me for many time, from last Christmas. They do so, sometimes, and when it happens i miss them so much.
I hope I may have again words as before.
Frost came, frost
each day spent
leaves no trace
on white ice
it’s a lace
in my mind.
Like a blind
I go around
as a clown
or a ghost.
Frost soon came,
frost soon went
sad grey scent
January, 30th 2021
I’m sorry… I was not able to post this stuff last week end, as usual …
Fog erases each thing with its nothing
made by silence and moisture and grey
along a way that leads to new Christmas
to new facts, to new hopes, to new life
I drive my car and I look for trees,
for signs or something that have a sense
anything I can see, recognize
to solve troubles and doubts, to go on
I miss white and pure snow in this cold
of an alien, strange winter, unknown.
Out some virus is spreading pain, death
Come soon my Lord with your holy kingdom
December, 14th 2020
Well, a friend shared me some songs by these two women. Some of their texts are interesting and intriguing, as this one is.
There is no matter between this song an my silly stuff, except for my anaphora.
Snow came, went and Shakespears
Sister sings of insane
people laying, as dud
Is this world wearing thin?
Do you think of escape?
Snow has gone far from here
white now turns into rain
as earth alters to mud
Is this world wearing thin?
Do I think to escape?
This mad mud without blood
grows high, faster and sad
in dark winters so bad
This world is wearing thin
and I cannot escape
Each sound stops in my ear
silence turns into pain
Earth seems empty of buds
I see world wearing thin
with no place to escape
It’s a joke this my tier
made by words about drains
in which life disappears
I see world and I’m thin
yet it has not my scrape
December, 5th 2020
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