Tag Archives: death

Manly’s New Life

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rest in winter
acceptance
the happy silence

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feel your roots
dancing slowly
underground

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stretching
toward the needed
death is but an attire

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-Dec. 2009-

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Being, from the California Notebooks 02 (EN/IT)

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This poem – from the newly finished collection California Notebooks 02 – is dedicated to my dear friend Anna Maria who just stepped into everlasting life after much suffering due to cancer.

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being there
one day

where the sound
of butterflies wings

could be heard
stretched on a smile

attentive to my
body changes

on the awe of gratitude
cracking away

a bit at a time
to deeper life

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Questa poesia – tratta dalla nuovissima collezione California Notebooks 02 – è dedicata alla cara, dolcissima, amica Anna Maria, appena passata a vita migliore dopo una lunga sofferenza dovuta al cancro.

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esserci
un giorno

dove il suono delle
ali delle farfalle

può essere ascoltato
disteso su un sorriso

vigile ai mutamenti
del mio corpo

stupore della gratitudine
mi incrino un poco

alla volta a vita
più profonda

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Evening Breeze, 2016

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I end up at times
visiting old friends
dinners stretching

over time feeding
our souls
the privilege

of recalling
the spirit’s
visitations

our hearts
a candle burning
quietly

steadily shaking
in the evening
breeze leaves

we are made
to fall and to die
full of colors

when it’s season

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit of popping up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year.

The older poems of the collection can be found, and read, using the search window to the right of this screen.

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Hands – Eulogies 2014

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when dad died they
clothed him for funeral

his hands so beautiful
crossed over his chest
they were the only thing

talking of him to me

I took a picture my
relatives anger rose
I could not avoid that

I haven’t seen it once

that picture it’s hiding
away to be gazed at on
a day when I’ll accept

distance or enjoy
closeness where
will my hands

go when I die

not on my chest
nor on my belly
for that short

time of the viewing
a sense of lack

of no more breath

a heaviness not favoring
digestion nor straight aside
as a soldier of whose army
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The London Hours, 2012

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It’s being back in fog
in a spring day
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It’s waiting to take off
a wet wet coat
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It’s being put back in time
face down on the shore
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waves and waves
against and afar
putting me under
letting me out
as if there isn’t an end
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I cannot reach you
anymore
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I can only fathom how
you looked like
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I have only memories
and loops
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moving around my hips
shake your body
rotate look up the arms
rings on fingers
heavier around my head
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Everyone comes back
these days
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Everywhere I turn I
realize
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Every moment we spent
rebounds
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Death is a hole
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painplainfully – December 2011

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skin sagging into sweetness

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wisdom

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trembling lips under teary eyes

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moving away as clouds

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shadows lingering

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hands covered with landscape

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furrows plowed

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a voice ceasing

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old age and the facing of death

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no more sounds

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iced silence on a frozen scape

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