*
now I know
it is worries
that separate
me from you
dark lines
in-creasing
may dissipate
as smoke at dusk
.
.
Sep30
Tag Archives: mindfulness
Sep27
Il mio orto
Sundays’ poems are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
il mio orto a spirale
ha prodotto abbondanza
.
nascondendo la struttura
non percorribile
.
nel suo pieno arrivata
la stagione
.
Se gradite ascoltare la versione audio e video della performance cliccate qui.
If you wish to hear and see the video of the poetic performance click here.
Yes, on Tuesday poems will be in English, as usual!
Sì, il martedì le poesie, come sempre, saranno pubblicate in inglese!
Sep22
Now
*
now it’s my turn
to be sitting on
a park bench
alone listening
something is coming
what is is coming
.
.
This was the only English poem performed on my first poetic reading after the Covid-19 lockdown, last weekend, when asked to do a public reading during the finissage of an art show Called Opulenza Vegetale (Vegetable Opulence). The performance took place in an old site, a church dated 1289, in Italy. If interested in a short video click here, Now.
Sep15
Dedicated To Generation Female
*
lead me my heart
where I am welcomed
.
with joy and gratitude
hold me there with laughter
.
pin me with sweet thoughts
of greatness so that I may
.
shine forever not lamenting
nor lacking lead me
.
to my own
independence
.
The poem, written in August, I dedicate to all the people participating to the Generation Female Global Summit where I will be one of the speakers! I hope to see you there, tomorrow, where you can ask me questions or hear my story, it would be lovely. Please click here to enroll.
Sep6
Il posto giusto
Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry.
Vi invito a vedere e ad ascoltare questa poesia, Il posto giusto tratta dal libro bilingue California Notebooks 02 cliccando qui. Questa è la poesia di pagina 50.
Sì, la domenica le poesie sono in italiano e il martedì in inglese.
Tuesday poems will be published in English as usual.
If you own the bilingual book I wrote, California Notebooks 02, this poem in on page 50.
Aug18
Mornings
*
having infinity
taking over me
that is my practice
in the desert
to rehearse boundless
to have a sip of
eternity once
in a while
.
.
Aug11
The Stroll
*
hearing steps
of life carried out
gasping one day
they will be no more
times rolls away
my finger fail to
halt it to stillness
.
.
Aug4
In Spite Of Me
*
when my words
surfacing out of
poetry define
who am I
I cry
I also
rejoice and
stand still as
if suspended
all at the same
exact
time holding
that tiny particle
of truth inside me
that shining in spite
of me
.
.
Jul28
Seasons
*
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
.
.
“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. This poem comes from that collection.
l
Jul14
Air
*
I don’t think
heaven is upward
.
I don’t think
God is in the sky
but I think
God is in the air
.
when I look
up to the clouds
I fell God is
there up around
.
inside and
everywhere
God is like air
.
. 
.
Jul12
Come muore un cane
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
come muore un cane
rannicchiato sempre
più stretto tra lunghi sonni
camminando a malapena
su due gambe quelle davanti
tremando quando mangia
sempre più stanco sempre
più piccolo che quasi
lo puoi prendere in braccio
dolcemente ti cerca
con gli occhi per un bacio
in più e la tua fronte sul suo naso
e per quell’attimo fermo silenzioso
prima dei miei complimenti
che incartano il magone
quella certezza che ogni
giorno insieme sia un dono
quel suo muoversi poco
sempre meno anche per
raggiungere il sole che scalda
le ossa storte doloranti
quel sospirare a fondo
quando racconta al gatto
qualcosa mentre lo segue
con gli occhi io cerco lui
e lo osservo immobile
per scovare il prossimo
respiro nella cassa toracica
ben delineata dalla magrezza
in mezzo a questa dolcezza
tra sorrisi mesti e lacrime
trattenute dentro come i fiori
che si chiudono la sera
come muore un cane
di vecchiaia
.
.
.
Ho scritto questa poesia a Giugno e la mia cagnolina fedele è morta l’11 Luglio 2020, ieri, dentro un corpo vecchio ma mi ha voluto, fino al suo ultimo respiro vicino a lei, tra carezze e sussurri e quello stupore immobile finale.
.
Jul1
Rhythm
*
as the day ends
I take a last walk
around my own
house stepping
on the garden
grass eyes up
to the clouds
sailing slowly
sending me
the rhythm
I had lacked
.
.
Jun23
Removed
*
under or above
removed from usual
grounds from valleys
to enter quieter realms
stillness and marvel
to be marginal
observing whether
with fish or birds
a new silence
lingering in
eternity
This poem is part of the collection Crossing Riviera.
By the way, in case you wish to give me some feedback based on your experience or instruction, this new Blocks Editor DRIVES ME CRAZY!!! Not sure it works for poems… even the Schedule seems more lengthy and complicated and, sorry for the past few weeks, missing the usual posting time and dates – I was experimenting with the Block Editor! Arrgh…
May20
Solitude Serves Me Well
*
before is the bird’s
song and the occasional
car passing by
then the refrigerator
freezing while shaking
the hot water boiler
or an airplane
far away the mailman
comes dropping
volumes of papers
we need to lift glance
at a minute then dispose
that’s how days roll
away how solitude
serves me well
.
.
.
This poem is from the California Notebook collection, available in paper book and digital format.
May13
The Look My Soul Has
*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water – is that the look
my soul has – she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.
–
