Tag Archives: mindfulness

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!




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.

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



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.

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.

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

time holding
that tiny particle
of truth inside me
that shining in spite
of me






I end up at times

visiting old friends

dinners stretching


over time feeding

our souls

the privilege


of recalling

the spirit’s



our hearts

a candle burning



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.


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.



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

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…

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.

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

2013-10-27 13.48.09



This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.