#poeticles
The lives we cross unknowing
The green-grass paths they wayfare,
Fables of fays and fiends unspoken
Truths belonging to entities of matter,
Flesh bones a body, rhythmed by breath
A heartbeat, pumps red juices carrying
Cleansing oxygen through tireless veins
To a brain, synapses creating thoughts
Interpreting, nervous sensations only
Tempered by hormonal roller coasters
As we defy, the mystic and attempt
To make sense of our existence beyond
The astonishing complex husk leisurely,
Deteriorating in time as we blow on candles
Grasping indeed there is far more inside,
A microcosm endeavouring to reconcile
With an all-pervasive Universe encompassing
As stars fall before our eyes, chronic sunrise,
Twirling incessantly without ever feeling
Dizzy, dazed by questions sparkling intuitively
As we struggle with the limits of earthly
Confinement, the green-grass paths we wayfare,
Health impediments, mental distortions,
Quarrelling with our fellow adventurers
Our frustrations, neglecting to acknowledge
The fays lifting us up whilst unpredictable
Fiends bid to crush when unexpectedly
Unfathomable interior strength unites
Us through experience a succession
Of collective errors misinterpretations
Aware however that we will endure,
Evolve to reach our highest potentials
For a unique welfare granted to all
Creatures, as we set course into the vastness
Of bewilderment, inexplicable space,
Omnific unfurling home to humanity
And all the breaths within.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
You were born in the mist
Of a worldwide ****** war,
Shielded in the town of Oxford
No one would have known,
Who came to light
On a random winter’s day,
And would have studied darkness
To humanity’s bewilderment
And science dismay.
Who could have envisaged
A modest run-of-the-mill boy,
Having troubles reading would pass
From studying clocks and radios
To figure how they work,
To later toy with physics
Identify the laws,
Of a universe beginning
With a silent bang.
A singularity unfolding
Ever-expanding space,
Projecting multiverse odds
Stretching theories of strings,
To unfathomable infinity
Countless possibilities.
I fell upon you by hazard
Listening to your alas robotic voice,
Notions of evanescence and chaos
Information lost forevermore,
In deep mystifying black holes
Only to reach the end,
Of an article explaining
The genius you were recognised
Even when you were wrong.
Sustaining a verity
You humbly would recant,
Thirty years later tell the world
Indeed energy survives and is returned,
To cosmos under a radiation
They now call by your name,
For there are no “eternal prisons”
Not in space nor in your wheelchair.
Your alacrity showed humanity so
By flying in a zero gravity zone,
Defying the physics constraining your body
An endless fervent hope, I dare
Share with you. For one day
To travel space and understand
A theory encompassing all,
Started studying cosmology
All because of you.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 3:56 PM UTC
Escaping memories I ran
To the setting of beginnings
In search of new encounters
A rescuer, an owner, a gentle
Word. Penn station had evolved
In years with my emotions,
Beguiling decadence lost
To opulence decay.
Pink granite covered in grime,
Glass filtering sunbeams had
Now turned light into grey,
Eerie shadows reflecting
My vanishing intentions,
Dwindling strength,
Waning hope.
The mellifluous cadence
Of alphanumeric flapping metals
That used to sooth me with dreams
Of arrivals and departures
Had been silenced for evermore.
Solari boards swapped
For liquid-crystal displays,
Even people had changed
Flaunting grimaces of disdain,
As they whispered rumours
Of terminal demolishment
To the benefit of a sporting arena
They would call The Garden.
I empathised with the unfluted
Columns of the Roman colonnade,
For I too had been deemed
Obsolete and inefficient,
A wreck no one shall retrieve,
To be suppressed, a panacea
For a collective consciousness
That would rather not see,
Turning blind eyes to me,
To cost-effective identity
Annihilation,
While Bobby freed of me
Won the New York State
Championship
At Poughkeepsie.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:02 AM UTC
Your crooked smile the flower behind
Dumbo ears reflections of light
onto the boldness of your distinctive
gargantuan head, baby looks
one wouldn’t expect, from an imposing
gentle giant like yourself.
Your invitation to stay when everyone
leaves, closing hour, tipsy people ******
into night streets as you turn the key
lock the door behind them. Pub shut.
Bringing bamboo sofas together
improvised imperial king-size beds,
innocent projection In The Mood
For Love on white sheets pined
to the wall, soundtrack to your echoing
heartbeat as I approach, lay my head
on your chest teasing fingers twirling
the soft curly hair surrounding
******* pretending to follow the plot
suffocating the sound of my deepening
breaths, when resistance loses purpose
and I submit to your hypnotic lips,
hands scoping each other’s worlds
as we unveil slithering tips on soft skins,
yours and mine akin, though you are strong
and I am delicate, movement symbiosis
orchestrated by Umebayashi, a two-piece
jigsaw made of flesh, meticulously moulded
to fit, once forever no space left between
as we fill the voids with steamy exhales
overwhelmed by your power I struggle
to prevent, reason commanding vocal chords
to emit the sound demanding cease, ‘Stop’,
whilst my kernel essentially pleads not to,
an internal duel I refuse to attend, biting
my lip holding you tight protracting time
not to end as I fall, madly into you
and mistakenly confuse your body with mine,
unable to define where you finish
and I begin.
Although you died since,
on occasions I recall.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 3:02 AM UTC
Why something rather than nothing,
millenary questions mankind dwell
upon whilst witnessing existence
of surroundings, mesmerising
phenomena. Enthralling vibrations
we sense, sparkling myriad colours,
sounds, shaping textures emitting scents,
flavours tingling baffled palates.
Wandering on metamorphosing soils
ceaselessly reflourishing in springs,
celebrated by pagans and mystic believers
the same, for the goddess we call nature is
the only revealing
itself before us with no veils.
Bathing in fresh waters, rivers
streaming from icy mountain tops
to endless oceans of white
salty minerals balancing life,
in the depths of which all began,
cells melding to engender species
of omnific varieties, beguiling entities
curiously exiting to wander lands.
Juicy fruits on branches of rising trees
erecting to shield, shading creatures
from the scorching rays of a brilliant
star, circadian dawning consenting
earthly presence to evolve, for eyes
to rise contemplating space, in time,
notice the sparkling lights
on infinite black canvas, wonder
what they are, mirific excitement
while perceiving a unique
peculiar consciousness encompassing
all that ever was is and will be,
for intuition to question in beguile,
Why something rather than nothing?
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 10:57 AM UTC
Unfold the map of the world and trace
a kaleidoscopic boot-shaped country
rising from the waters lavished by Atlantic
in a multicultural basin at the heart
of a flat globe. The Mediterranean birthed
by the Zanclean deluge, witness of myriad
exoduses intertwining genes to encompass
peninsular cradles of early civilisations,
a medley of ethnicities trading goods
discoveries and ideas on sailing caravels.
Two thousand years later the remnants of
the Roman Empire vote, the democracy
they had co-founded two thousand years
before, on philosophies of justice, equality
and human rights. Power to the people,
lost in the process of history making,
populaces disillusioned and frustrated
at millenary successions of failed rulings
corroborated by corruption and personal
greed of those chosen to represent them.
Today Italians vote anti-establishment
thereby at long last rejecting ideologies
of the past, too old to bare credibility
electing a party set outside the box,
no left right nor centre, victory of populism,
communism and capitalism burned
at stake for their crippling sins albeit
international cold-war renaissance attempts.
Marking the end of the twentieth century
the twenty-first bets on the refreshing breezes
of new tantalising illusions, cuts to public debt,
income of citizenship, youth employment,
tax reductions campaigned to allegedly increase
family spending, for whatever we do we are
all bound by a unique reigning doctrine under
the unified global empire, of consumerism.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
They tell me in man
lies the source of evils
as weakness surrenders
to ineluctable lures.
That he pursues aims
of personal interest
out of egocentric greed
prompting justice, inequity.
That he turns blind eyes
to the sufferings of others
unable of compassion as he
steals their earthly blessings.
That he imperturbably drains
natural resources to his gain
careless of consequences
apathetic towards environment.
That in the name of telluric power
he does not hesitate to drop
bombs and fire guns
on discriminated innocents.
Watches his fellow beings die rejoices
for the success of his missions,
Yet I know, that for each
malicious creature there is one.
That preaches good and acts
accordingly, finding strength
in the marvel that is
his own existence.
That appals before ignorance
repels individualism
conceives humanity as one race
believes and strives for equality.
That sees the struggles the tragedy
of the less fortunate born
on lands of war sickness and poverty
lending a hand of empathy.
That cares for his surroundings
cherishing the boons granted
to all living creatures
endeavouring to protect, his world.
That is dismayed by injustice
abhors violence and abuse
engages courage to protest
incessantly crying out, for peace.
Delights gifting strangers smiles
tender looks of presence whispering
brotherly, You are not alone.
A kind word, a loving deed, a revolution.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility
to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity
on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,
induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth
much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging
to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,
research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency
participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep
and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can
destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction
ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
Why is it so arduous
for us to believe we are
beguilingly startling
creatures as none?
Whilst we look at others
we call animals and remain,
befuddled by the perfection
of a nature we reclaim,
temporary beings
roaming freely a land
of prosperous marvels
releasing an infinity
of colours, delicate those
of uncountable flowers,
green that of trees
erecting forests of auburn,
as we spectate the dance
of stones raising mountains,
following the streams
sourcing from them,
cascading into rivers
torrents pouring into
shimmering oceans
unfolding to the limits
of our sight,
where water touches the sky
and we stare marvelling,
at sunset giving birth
to myriad stars iridescent
on black canvas.
Why is it so arduous
for us to believe we are
beguilingly startling
creatures as none?
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
You took me dancing by the harbour
after snow fell the night, covering
sand and sea in white for an instant
mist in my eyes, as we twirled
towards dizziness held
by the heated pressure of your right
hand posed on my back
the seat of my emotions pressed
against your chest, blind
to others the cold
breeze a scorching ray,
hitting violently on pins and needles
skin an awkward sensation,
confusing ice for fire,
strikes for strokes,
your attention for love.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
As February departs with promises
of spring abandoning premature buds
yellow on solitary mimosa trees left
to freeze and shiver under the unwanted
caress of Russian buran, sternly gliding
over mounts rivers and valleys to cross
the unsurmountable Urals, past graves
to the defeat of many warriors, undaunted
by obstacles to reach the Italian peninsula,
covering lands and my garden in white
blankets of thick soft snow, suffocating my roses,
teasing my ficuses and palms, wringing
firewood to the disappointment of my chimney,
never as now so appealing, chameleonicly
camouflaging my hoary stray cat, it has deserted
its usual spot, its hammock imbued
turning to a colourful icy sheet of material,
as I coincidentally prepare for my physics
exam on climate change, I bring
to shelter my bonsais and baobabs.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
A stranded auburn brittle leaf before me
surrenders to the deftly sweep of zephyr,
coriolically swirling to elevate its conquest
into an air of revolving molecules, colliding,
split by ultraviolets to recombine, ceaselessly
creating shielding layers of evanescence, rare,
delicate, perfect. All in graceful motion
synergically metamorphosing around,
immovable trees deeply rooted in fertile soils,
breathing in our toxics, exhaling our essential
inhales, growing to shade, fauna from irradiance,
that of a star wizardly shilly-shallying with water,
a silent duet, dissolving to ascend
towards the skies, finding freedom in vapours
yet unable to escape, hauled back to rain,
replenish lakes, rivers flowing a course
estuaries to lavishing blue oceans, the depths
in which cells creatively began moulding into shape,
under erumpent tides metronomes of balance
orchestrating and echoing foreplays of attraction,
to a distant enchanting moon of paleness
jealously mimicking the love affair between
Earth and Sun, the first chasing the latter
endlessly in infinite space, as it performs
revolutions around holes of darkness seduced
by its opposite in which it mirrors and identifies
mutual origins, marble games where speeds
of clustered spheres exceed a million miles an hour
where inexistent time beats the rhythm scored
by elegant laws pulling the strings to the dance
of seduction, pirouetting above our blind eyes,
power, as zephyr decides to repose
the auburn brittle leaf once more,
before me.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:45 AM UTC
Tick-tock the hands of the clock plock
the pendulum swings to the immutable
rhythm of hypnotic seconds measuring time,
the soundtrack to the great oeuvre that is
our life. An existence we perceive
ephemeral, thus instinctively preparing
suitcases since inception, on an earthly
sphere we interpret merely as a vestibule,
be it a pretty one awaiting to embark
on a journey to a destination unknown,
neatly folding experiences one by one,
hiding mistakes between the nethermost
layers, shameful feelings, regrettable deeds
tucked under blankets of tears, loving
sentiments nostalgically stowed as valuables
in secret pockets where fears glow.
Achievements meticulously placed in side-
compartments for easy retrieval, references
just in case, identity printed in capital letters
on a stateless passport holding the blank
ticket stretching ears to heed announcements,
last call for immediate boarding, hopefully
after blowing on candles times enough
for departure to be tolerable, desirable. Yet
the bell tolls every so often unexpectedly,
rendering the baggage of a life time instantly
redundant, while climbing the invisible ladder
naked, slowly dissolving into the ether, a rapid
transition between who we are, have been
and will be once more, pure energy melting
to recompose, metamorphosis in tune not
with the pendulum but with the mute
timeless cosmic flow encompassing all,
the solemn moment the weight suspended
from the pivot ceases to swing.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
‘How many hairs on the palm
of your hand?’ my father used to ask
waiting to note, whether I would look.
‘None!’ gullible little me would reply
as he smiled asserting the quest
was in itself indeed the first
sign of madness,
to my bittersweet disappointment.
Little would he know then, that years
later growing up I would no longer search
yet would suffer as it happens from
mental distress,
to my tortured existential struggle.
Learning to hide hints and symptoms
of derangement I would confide
only to my Self, beloved faithful ally,
thereby exhibiting the second sign
solaced by Aurora to believe it was fine
whilst enjoying the conversation.
A dialogue between the many versions
of Self unfolding, for me to discover ego
laughing to my jokes, caressing my cheeks
whispering words of soothing power,
sympathising with endeavours
clement with my limits, coaching me
to courageously strive
to surpass them.
Counting stories of imagination
which would later be written
by my hands holding fountain pens
pouring ink on mute white papers,
a life of insanity within which
reason finds its peaceful abode.
As I now look around and observe
all the sane normal people who neglect
listening and talking to themselves,
I realise that my soliloquy engenders
a unique blissful bond, whereby
the trillion pieces composing me all
interconnect soundly rooted
in essential loving accord.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
Muteness creates sounds, warning perils
as hyenas shrewdly approach shelters,
expressing needs of thirst and hunger
when lands run dry and fruits perish,
chanting instincts sparked by seasons
eliciting mating overtures inspired,
drawing pictures on cave walls
to indelibly report, leave a legacy
of human exploits, enduring struggles,
nascent cultures and traditions,
storytelling striving to be faithful
to a truth the only known, evolving
to engender words made of letters
placed in devised orders to confess
thoughts and feelings, exchange concepts
and ideas, bring minds closer to reflect
upon the myriad marvels of a world yet
to be discovered. Eclipses. Crafting caravels
designing maps, recording wonders
encountered in search of an end, a limit
where it all began, keeping Captain’s log
fearing the monsters of the unknown,
tornados and typhoons a presage
of death inducing mortals to call
for mercy upon immortal gods,
fantastically explaining what reason is unable
to decipher. Singing songs to raise moral
until bashing locutions begin to bless
far more than slaps and blades, hanging ropes,
lightning and storms, using them to hurt
with intentions turned malicious, ingenious
communicative talents drowning
in oceans of wickedness and shame, leading
man to regret to have ever invented words
in the first place, leaving me with just one
sound of indwelling grief, a sigh, succumbing
tuning back to muteness.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
The casing we cling onto so greatly
reassures us that indeed we do exist,
for our impalpable spirit
at times, appears merely a dream.
Our eyes in which we look so deep
as if attempting to grasp the within,
shining bliss or saddenedly opaque
dilate at every fascinating detection,
our hair of many colours, curly or straight
a frame to our visage round or oval
we recognise as ours, reflected on
crafted sea sand for us not to forget,
who we are, focusing on its features
one by one, wrinkles portraying
our escapades scrutinised in search
of traces of happiness amid the many scars,
as a central protuberance inhaling
detects scents of others
registered to elicit memories, red lips
our mouth uttering sounds we call words
through vibrating vocal chords stored
in our throat, our neck tirelessly supporting
the head, on our shoulders bearing
the knots revealing our frustrations
insanity, while arms are still willing
and able to carry out intentions,
five fingered hands at their extremities
to mould ideas give them space
in the physical realm, our torso
encaging to protect muscles
pumping life where distinction
is made between woman and man,
for she in clothing hides her *******
of nourishment for progeny to grow,
our stomach flat or bloated conceals
a second mind, enteric nervous system
responding to emotions, our pelvic
cavity beneath, where reproductive organs
give, pleasure to the living
engendering new lives, our thighs,
knees and calves supporting
our every motion so that we
could wander the land discover
understand, our feet
rooted to the ground for balance,
for us not to loose touch
with reality fly away
in realms of fantasy, our skin
delicate involucre of it all, shelling
our skeleton keeping us ***** protecting
trillions of cells
unfathomably combining to compose,
us.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
My birth was an infinite hazard slowly
suddenly sparked by a singularity, dense,
blazingly intense, warm womb of everything
to be to become, pitch black smaller than a pea
induced to expand, quantum fluctuations,
give to acquire space, to grow, foreshadow my
future existence, forbearing the libertine conduct
of particles wooing, playing games of attraction
abiding by laws elegantly unwritten, striving
to unite yet at moments repelled, by forces
unfathomable, a dynamic courtship unaware,
unconscious drive of conscienceless creations.
When, an endless labour of spinning behaviour
engenders rarity, beguiling perfection, where,
a molten sphere dances around a fiery young star
at a demure distance to lose heat and hoard
water, become a sphere of stone, a cosmic
delivery room yielding conceptions, billions of species
born, lived and extinguished, primordial ancestors
evolving I was brought into existence. Who am I?
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:48 AM UTC
Incessant musings of you compel me
to cease attempts of drawing our bond
to a close inevitably only reminiscing
your coquettish simper, manic gaze, the depth
of your unhinged voice as you theatrically recited
a brilliant rendition of the divine, Comedy
captivating my awe and admiration, interludes
to endless rounds of battles unilaterally sparked,
by you out of the blue. Instantly silenced as I
never knew when you would start them nor how
to bring quarrels to an end, incapable of finding
rational meaning or a reason for there never were
any other than your debilitating insanity
of which you were tragically aware. Asking for
forgiveness wiping out my tears in those,
rare glimmers of lucidity short lived moments of delight.
I vividly remember myself laughing in your arms,
as you recounted ironic comic versions
of Bible anecdotes. Where Jesus was just another fellow
with whom you sympathised, rhapsodising over
your uncomprehended similarities. Gentle gestures
towards strangers, innate altruism, love
for Earth and Humanity as a whole.
With individuals you appeared to have a problem
as they recurrently rewarded you with a cross.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Wallowing in rolling under the covers
only very slowly awaking from slumbers,
half way between Morpheus and Aletheia
my eyes were still closed when the first
thought of you crawled into the warmth
of my morning bed. Serendipitous encounter
forged by your last night’s cajoling words,
lured yet reluctant to give in too swiftly
I thwart the voicing of my impulse, convincing
myself that if I wait a little longer
this blazing fever will clemently abate.
As I settle for the amiable embrace of sunbeams.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
Praising silence delusional pagans
interpret perception of finite senses
fabricating concepts outlawed by reality,
as sounds audible and imperceptible
travel through mediums elastic and viscous,
eardrums capture peculiar waves of pressure
whilst bodies distinguish pulsating tremors.
What a prodigy! The auditory privilege
aural ability to hear, billows crashing
on shores, winds blow through crispy leaves
of ancient trees, where enamoured nightingales
sing, mating tunes humans reproduce.
Deepening breaths and sighs, musical
compositions voicing instruments while
vocal chords intone words that bring us closer,
exchange ideas, bequeath stories of verities.
Yet, increasing volumes may disrupt
fragile minds eager to listen, in a society
creating noises of its own to fill the voids
left by melodies unheard, disregarded
to the benefit of klaxons, traffic jams, alarms,
frantic rolling stock, people shouting
offenses, constructors drilling to insanity,
and if you listen carefully, energy stream
through electric wires an incessant hum
to which we are clumsily attuned. Our silence,
all but silent, ridded of the rest we could hear,
eyes bat, air flow gently into our lungs, blood
run through our veins, heart beat to a rhythm,
synapses sparkle thoughts impossible to hush,
internal heat engender emotions, flickering
sensations roar. Seducing silence only purpose,
perceive the entirety of all
the universal melodies unheard.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
Eyes dimmed by calicanto vapours find
ecstasy in blurs as sandalwood scents arise
from burning candles, melding to provoke
an original entrancing redolence, a fay’s
potion delicately sending me into raptures.
Cocooned in the crystalline aqueous lymph
nakedness allows fondling drops to slither,
softly caressing skin with each emersion only
to immerse once more for greater pleasure.
Intensifying warmth enhances my perception
of this bliss persuaded, that nothing else
could touch me in this place, placental womb
imperturbable enchantment, secluded, from
reality shielded by a shell made of steam.
Enthralling haze incites fantasy to unleash
enticing indulgence in blind hallucinations
where ethereal substance imposes its flesh
upon my liquescing essence.
Chimerical cleansing drowning impurities
that will escape, when I’ll remove the cap
I will watch them whirl away, sheathed
in my bathrobe a chalice of red wine
will remain untouched as I’ll refuse
to relinquish the beguiling delight.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:53 AM UTC
While Ariadne held the clew
for Theseus to find his way,
a thread to escape the labyrinth
where the Minotaur was slayed,
Persephone awaited spring
to part from Hades and arise
from the underworld blossom
flora to earthlings jubilation,
Penelope kept her promise
declining suitors twenty years
for Odysseus to return, to her,
eternal wait in the maze
of leisurely time.
Oh time, so rapidly evolving
into a fleeting concept,
from a blessing to a curse, chased
out of fear of losing it, ridiculous
illusions of possession,
for how could anyone ever lose
something that never was
theirs in the first place?
While wait and slowness once were
an intrinsic part of life embraced,
rejected by industrial revolutions
technological progresses two
seconds too many for a message
to travel from Rome to outer space
ricocheted by a satellite
across the ocean to the surface
of a new world, is a wait long enough
to drive any human insane.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:36 AM UTC
To all those I chanced upon in past realms I recall
every one of you, needless of effort as hoard
your encounter within me completing the oeuvre
painting my essence, portraying my existence.
To you my kindergarten friend I wonder
what you have become. Golden curls enveloping
your round freckled face I took you by your hand,
dragged you everywhere I went.
Do you still trade leaves for pine nuts?
To you my circus man, counting stories of a second
World War comradery as we walked the morning hours
with your two white fluffy poodles through Roman
squares helping painters put up their stands.
Do you still wear your leather cowboy boots?
You they say one never forgets. We grew together
on summer holidays in Greece until you grew a passion
for hunting dogs and with the clumsy excuse
of taking them for a walk took me to the woods
on a moonless night for my first kiss.
To you who stuck with me through thick and thin
showering me with affection always a master
in making me laugh, epicurean philosophies to live
a happy life. Eloping fantasies neglected until we parted.
Did you ever make it to Australia?
And what about you my blues musicians, guitars
in our hands carelessly seated on the ***** floors
of San Lorenzo, we used to dance exchanging
our experiences for beers and shots of ***
Do you still play notes of Vaughan?
To you my old-time street stranger homelessly
keeping an eye on me along my nocturnal returns,
when singing birds announce colours and odours
of the dawn as we shared warm croissants at four.
Are you still alive?
To all those I chanced upon in past realms I recall,
You are oh so many blessed gifts of life to me,
I thank you for completing the oeuvre painting
my essence portraying my existence.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC
Seated at the candle-lit dinner table my
aural senses distracted by musicians neglect
the biographic monologue of the diner before me.
Feet impulsively impose their rhythmic behaviour
timidly beating the floor, improvised drums
silenced whilst nonchalantly looking elsewhere,
artless reaction to captivating tunes, pretending
self-possession as vibrations slowly softly gently creep
along my spine, flowing through veins and nerves
altering heartrate unable to make believe interest
in words unheard any longer, finely tuning to meld
when my head ineluctably yields to sway inviting,
the rest of my body and him to follow. ‘Stand up!’
I interrupt rolling shoulders beamingly gazing
into his eyes, eager to be swung, swirling hips
outpouring sensuality, his and mine getting closer
until hands meet each other’s skin enticing and
though everything is warmer shivers swiftly cloud
my shutting eyes, dizziness inebriating movement
entranced, pleasantly losing consciousness
into his arms with a final Do.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:36 AM UTC
I touched water yesterday white and cold,
purposely hardened by pugnaciously low
temperatures fighting to withhold
the solid fluid against a thieving star, roaring
sweltering rays to melt, moulded men
made of snow, as the girl grew disappointed
expecting whipped cream texture, lack of softness,
digging deep with fingers covered in gloves,
to make ***** to throw at others who will smile
at the jovial play, insensitive to the endeavours
of the eroded mountain modelled by many million
years of scorching suns, blistering winds,
blizzards freezing falls as they cascade, sculptures
made by nature crossed by bridges, so heavenward
drivers succumb to overwhelming giddiness
before entering an endless claustrophobic tunnel,
where science laboratories hide secrets
of the universe under a three thousand meter
elevated rock. The Great Rock of Italy an immense
park, where protected species graze unscathed,
farmers’ labours engender culinary delights
for an imprisoned dictator, while
physicists discover neutrinos beating light
at a dashing race, and Ladyhawke mutates to fly
over a nocturnal vagabonding wolf. I touched
water yesterday, white and cold, and I could
only imagine the enthralling moment when
spring will come and all shall liquesce
to replenish rivers and lakes, irrigating soils
for centenary trees to blossom once again
granting life to living creatures witnessing
the grand spectacle of perfectly attuned cycles.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC