*
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.
–
*
I knew the hardest
was not being locked in
but the coming out
the count of the missing
ones their blinders
down as you take your
long missed stroll
.
that time has not arrived yet
.
but the count has
started once you get time
at hand the socials
platforms open up some
profiles have black
some tears and weeping
so far is two at day
.
way too high the number
of my friends who are no more
we are still on lock down
.
April is the cruelest month
I dare to strongly hope
.
.
*
time leaving
traces everywhere
victims never
to be avenged
time cannot
be hold it can
be classified
never arrested
and if doing some
serious thinking
we last but the
length of a breath
time shows itself
and swiftly go
.
This poem is part of the bilingual poetry collection California Notebooks 01 on sale on Amazon.
.
*
eternity roams
inside me I can’t
help but travel
forever wondering
the mind and space
on earth as in dreams
seeking some order
chasing the waters
harmony to fill me
deep from the inside
to make me a lake
alas at home
.
.
This poem is part of the bilingual poetry collection California Notebooks 01 on sale on Amazon. If you wish you can read the Italian version on the post previous to this one titled Armonia.
*
to be me
the one I’m
inside immune
to time and places
to recognize the one I
ought to welcome with love
.
.
.
Yep, today is my birthday!
.
Happy New Year, Happy New Life!
*
I wish no one
to die without a hint
of poetry
a hue of love
compassion or
passion
I wish you
all the urge to cross
over this
threshold
while in your home
a nice skin
seeking a touch
from heaven to come
.
.
.
.
This poem is part of the poetic collection, available on Amazon, California Notebooks 02
*
I wish I had not
the compulsion
of changing words
around of giving them
new shapes new
sounds I wish I
just could see
you the word
.
.
.
*
I press hard
most of the times
my whole
life to go beyond
.
to detach myself
from disappointment
transcending
into the essence
.
.
.
*
poetry falls
as pigment
on wet paper
.
creating
a world
of beauty
.
marveling
at the smooth
escape door
.
.
.
*
let’s sow kindness
even if we no more
like people let’s
.
.
.
*
I write
a ladder
to heaven
upward
I hold
as seen
in my morning
dream
.
.
.
*
I dreamed my secret name
yes it was written
on a white stone
everything was crystal
clear then just like
the sky today harmony
coated and I felt so
relaxed so sleepy
.
I fell into another night
when I woke up I could
not make out the writing
and I got news of more
deaths more killings
more drowning crimes
.
if I could if I just could
tell everybody their
secret names
waking them up to life
.
.
.
.
*
shy me lord
of what sinks me down
as I fall asleep
let peace wrap me up
my thoughts
lighten my worries
remove just
a timid smile to
welcome you
.
.
*
I was once
part of my dad
and also part of
my mother
later but not so
literally I was part
of someone else’s
further I will be part
of the trees’ roots
contributing to the
flowers’ beauty
part of water
somewhere in
the sky all along
I was part of god
but here you
stiffen and say
I cannot
prove it
.
.
.
This poem is on page 55 of the published bilingual collection California Notebooks 02.
.
.
*
forever is to renew
what I already have
every day
.
.
.
