Blue primrose

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

 

Frost soon came

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.

J.B.

Frost came, frost
                         later went
each day spent
                         leaves no trace

Sunlight shines
                       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
lazy days,
                  sad grey scent

January, 30th 2021

Fog erases

I’m sorry… I was not able to post this stuff last week end, as usual …

JB, 2009

 

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

This world is wearing thin

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

There’s sun warmth

JB, 2010

 

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
                                                           I can

 

February, 14th 2020

 

Italian version

 

Winter variations

JB, 2009

 

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

 

Italian version

It’s so light

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

 

Italian version

Rime

In that day, for the first time in my life, I did not go to my work to avoid snow chaos.

 

JB, 2019

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

Winter dream

(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 … ?

J.B. 2018

 

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

Italian version