The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...

Friday, December 30, 2011

New beginnings

We have all the time in the world.
And there's always a part of me that will know when's the best time
To give in, to let go.
A sum of all parts, ethereal, transient, essential and concrete
And a dash of certainty when thoughts and eyes meet
And always time to do more
To dare, to dream....

Be happy, healthy and wise in 2012, and thanks for reading my blog.
Best wishes!

Monday, December 26, 2011

Optical Illusion

Here is there.
Over there is just not right.
Reading behind a mirror.
Looking for the trick.
The double vision. The candle.
The shadow. The voices in the box.
The particles and the waves.
The stars and the sand.
Overwhelmed in a trickle, in a blur.
Mixed emotions. Never sip from another's cup.
Inebriated, feeling sad.
Down on the corner. Confused.
Too far away, too close.
Never adding up to the attempt of the hand
To reach out and touch what happens to be there
but springs out of reach forever more.

Monday, October 24, 2011

In the eyes of a cat ...




A moment of innocence

Generated by eons of

Mysterious superiority

Grace, righteous pride…


In the eyes of a cat,

A glimpse of nine worlds,

Flawless beauty of

The fragile and the brave.

You can be possessed,


The cat will remain the master

Over your soul of a slave.


In the eyes of a cat

Compassion and sadness

Memories of paradise lost…


Nothing is so true

Yet so close to betrayal

But attraction is cruel

And I am lost forever

Possessed by the eyes of a cat.

One look is all it took~

There goes innocence

To the spoils of feline effortless enchantment

Closer and sweeter than most.

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Monday, August 8, 2011

C2H5OH Unlimited

The transparent bottle and the green optical illusion of the liquid, dancing, boiling inside is real.
Eyes open wide, not really looking at anything in particular. The strength to admit weakness is all there.
Vulnerable, fragile as the glass. Yet craving poison, because too much honey is nauseating.

All those faces, they give the impression of misguided youth and naivete`. Little do they know.

The Joker keeps his little secrets. One by one they appear in the morning mirror. Accusing looks and pointed fingers. You could have done better. You could have done more. You could have doubled that.

Just smash the mirror. Send those shards all over the bathroom floor, send panic in the house, blood on your hand, on your clenched fist, red knuckles of defeat, blood on the rug and tears in your eyes. Stains on your soul.

Tainted spirit and green transparency. Reality unlimited in free flow.
There's never an answer to that, or it is extremely personal. And as they worry about you, you cannot blame them, you gave them a reason to worry, to watch your steps, to be awkward around you. Is it helping? Nobody knows.

Ask the bottle. Some day it'll meet the same fate as the mirror. There'll be a mess. The police will be called. They'll intervene, cracking glass shards as they move in on you. And you'll remember the early mornings, once upon a time, when it was all right.

The cell has no mirrors. It gives you time to give it a thought.
What exactly did go wrong between then and now?
And why you?

All the broken glass in the world cannot balance out your soul. And there's no law against a broken soul. As long as you keep it in.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Due gocce di calma


Il battito di cuore messo a posto grazie ad un semplice gesto. E' l'attesa che rende la vita ansiosa. Quell'attimo seguente, vuoto, imprevedibile. I desideri non sono certezze. Se non ci sono altri indizi, cambiano colore, col tempo, diventano delusioni. E la chiamata non arriva mai. La delusione cresce, gonfia, diventa una sconfitta enorme.

Abbattutto, il cuore cerca di nascondersi nella profondità dei mari tristi. Da lì nascono le stelle. Ma il cuore affogato non torna mai.

Più duro delle pietre, pesa, tira giù, senza compassione, quel silenzio che sa di delusione e acqua salata. Le lacrime tingono le parole non dette. La conferma finale che un errore banale si percepisce come fallimento assoluto. E qui inizia la caduta libera senza ritorno.

Nessuno vuole ascoltare spiegazioni. E chissà per quale motivo, questo fatto, al fondo del mare, sembra importantissimo. Il faro dei ricordi si spegne all'improvviso, perché il guardiano cerca la luce altrove. La trova nel sogno dopo la notte insonne. Dal sogno nascono i fiori delle ombre.

Mai detto, eppure pesa. Spalle girate, sguardo di disprezzo. La morte sembra l'unica amica senza pregiudizi. Come un pesce che porta l'anello della fede e tace.

Dov'è la giustizia per la vita che non ha più nulla a dare al mondo?

Due gocce di calma. Un abbraccio. Sorrisi dell'arcobaleno del tocco umano. Voglia di galleggiare ritrovata. Adesso nuotare fino a quando aspettano le stelle. Oltre la porta del sogno. Il telefono si sente a distanza. Ci sei? Ci sarai di nuovo? E chi lo sa? E chi l'avrebbe mai detto?

Sono un'ombra imprigionata tra la veglia e il sonno. Salvami.

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Friday, May 13, 2011

Riflessione universale


Tutto (qui).

Qui (là).
Oppure qualcosa indeterminabile.
Viene e se ne va.
Un attimo senza qualità.

Atomi in discesa libera.

Caduta assistita dalla gravitazione.

Sì. (No.)

Eppure capisci e prendi appunti

per evidenziare la tua comprensione.

Virgola, sosta, riflessione.

Preghiera di andata e ritorno.


Quando? (Mai.)

Poi arriva la valanga delle domande


Il peso dominante che distinque gli angeli

Tra noi.

Che poi ognuno sceglie se vuole credere

O averne dubbi.

Altre domande. Altri appunti.

La mano scivola sulla pagina

Perché la mente si stanca davanti

Tante cose da ricordare.

La verità è solo un'illusione.

Se vuoi credere. Fatti tuoi.

Se invece vuoi dubitare
Avanti con le domande.

Mi raccomando, niente paura
Se qualche risposta risulta spiacevole.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

By Moonlight (excerpt)


Sipping coffee by moonlight is a magic ritual. Watching the pale glow
of the sleeping satellite reflected through the steamy blackness of
the hot coffee, itself a black hole of lost stars, of lost thoughts
during the day, guiding the Milky Way in its frothy giddiness towards
the promised dreamland.

I am lost between stars reflected in the sky and on the lonely planet.
I miss the Sun, but I am lulled by the certainty of its morning
elegant appearance.
And that’s when I remember the melody, that’s when I remember the
steps, the rhythm, and how lovely it is to dance by moonlight,
barefoot, carefree, enchanted and protected by the night.

So I am dancing with the cup of coffee in my hands. Slowly caressing
it with my palm, as my feet touch the marble tiles of the terrace, and
the music helps me forget that it’s chilly, for it is warm in my heart
and the stars guide me on. I am made of light tonight and the galaxy
is my guardian. I am lonely no more.

Humming the melody written by a lonely, anguished soul, centuries ago,
immortalized by his genius, I feel in touch with other times. Other
times tap me on the shoulder, politely, asking me if I’d like to dance
in other dimensions. I oblige. Coffee is my magic potion, and it opens
all doors, all gates, and everything is possible.

My idea of freedom has just been realized, like a bubble of stillness,
a drop of perfect crystal clear reality just for me, mine to taste, to
cherish, to hold on to, if only for a moment. And a moment, if treated
properly, can treat you to eternity.

I look up, there’s the sky, the great mystery, as dark as my soul, as
curious as my eyes, and as deep. The coffee is just a thin dark brown
reminder in the cup. I leave it on the table. I sit back, almost out
of breath from all that whirling and humming and dancing.

There I am, my white dress blending with the terrace chair, and a
candle, and the moonlight, and the whole other multitude of stars and
celestial bodies, known and unknown, seen and unseen, yet to be
revealed in their full glory as their light travels across the miles.

Sharing a cup of coffee in the moonlight with the stars and the night
is like an offering of peace, a balm for the soul, a recognition that
it is all right, that it will pass, that there’s a lonely heart but
equally unremarkable and aware of the plight of millions of other
lonely heartbeats trying to find a connection through the impulses
firing up across the universe....

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Monday, March 7, 2011


Più grande l’odio, più piccolo l’uomo

Più piccolo l’uomo, più corte l’ombra

La stella generosa non si cruccia con dettagli.
Brilla e illumina tutto . Anche quando non sembra.

Puoi rovesciare inchiostro sul cigno bianco

Piuma macchiate, ma è tutto qui

Il cigno rimane un simbolo elegante

Toccante, anche quando l’amore non c’è più.

Puoi rovesciare mari e fiumi

Diventeranno acqua, pioggia generosa

Troveranno il mare dal cielo.

E tutto andrà bene. Perché il cuore grande

Non si cruccia dei dettagli.

Batte e rende tutto piacevole. Anche quando
Il mondo sembra rovinato.

Guarda l’universo. Guarisce ogni pensiero.

Sparisce ogni dubbio leggero.

Più grande il sogno, più fantastica la fine

Più forte la felicità, più delicioso e sublime
I dettagli non esistono.

Prima o poi, tutto torna a posto.
Prima o poi anche le ombre fanno pace col buio.
E dopo rimane solo la bellezza.
La grandezza immensa dell’infinito.
Niente altro.

Odio inutile, uomo di paglia e polvere.
Macchia nera di cielo scuro.

All’alba non importano le sfumature e i dettagli.
La stella generosa rende tutto bello.
E qui mi fermo, la bellezza mi consola.

Qui è sempre.
Niente altro.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


Sono il mulino al vento sconfitto da Don Chisciotte

Sono un tulipano bianco grazioso

Sul tasto nero del pianoforte.

Mi perdo tra i gusti di mille colori

gioia dolce e salata.

Grido al mondo con i sussurri del sole

Dico a tutti com'è bello il mare.

Attraverso le montagne, trovo l'albero

giusto per contare i giorni

che non tornano più.


Corro senza fermarmi

Volo, faccio magia

Diffondo sorrisi a chi ne ha bisogno

Regalo un pizzico del mio cuore

A chi mi sta vicino.

Lascio tracce nella sabbia

Fino all'arrivo della marea

E faccio un patto con il mare..

Lascio tutti i desideri nel sogno..

E al risveglio non mi farà annegare

nelle lacrime per i sogni che non tornano più.

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Friday, January 14, 2011

St. Brelade Bay

The moon's crescent and the curve of the bay
Making the circle complete.
Daily delights and digressions at dusk
The perfect rose, the sweet scent of lavender
And the green green call of calm
As the day bows and the night raises the curtain
To a starry sky. It makes you wonder..
The dream ends where the sea meets the sky
And the horizon is where you want it to be..
Willing the ships to come home, to bring hope
Home to me.
Whispers of good night and silvery reflections
As the safe harbour never fails to offer shelter.
Rescue me
From the shadows of the night
And take me to the Corbiere and its welcoming light
Teach me the names of all the flowers
Let each petal embalm each hour
Let the hours slip away
Like find golden sand on St. Brelade's Bay.
Fine droplets of water like open necklaces
Swing in sweet abandon, defying gravity
The tide is low..and the breeze tells stories
About the old secrets of the sea.
The shells echo old mariner's melodies.
And if you listen you'll find out what those stars
Had to say so many years ago, about dreams
Being born, being raised to become realities
Or fairytales of enchanted castles and princesses.
Close your eyes and dream..the glass encapsules
All those uncertainties. It's only you and me..
It's only what you want it to be.
Two smiles make yet another circle complete.
An island in the stream, and a shore under a spell
And only the stars will tell..

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