Category: Poesia


Sunday afternoon, drinking tea with Grandma Flora (my namesake!)…

A cup older than me, all baroque, made of chalk.

Sky not bluer than our eyes.

Family with three generations of blue eyes.

Home not really home anymore, still and warm.

Afternoon in amber and silence.

Peace and sighs.

Strings of dialogue unimaginable, loving her more than myself.

Annunci

Nights like tonight are not made.

They are born while I plow through with the Chevrolet Darling.

It’s already a few weeks I’m having this sort of melancholy.

Crawling back from a far away place inside the folds of my brain.

Reading novels written for illiterates no doubt.

Stream of thought greys, ocras and dark greens.

Films for depraved made in lead, mud, chalk and diamonds.

Music resembling the shout of a beast slaughtered, warhowler heartbreaker.

I have been forged in darkness, and never feared it.

When you fear, you push away.

You don’t actually see what you fear.

Truth is: bathing in the sun for too long can bruise you.

Sight and sound black as your eyes.

Dead this night.

For I can’t bear them alive.

Music. Sound. Machine running the miles.

I don’t remember anymore the nightbirds, the endless typing, the epic journeys made with fog fanning out.

I know who I am.

I don’t know who I was, who you thought about in the dead of the night when all was said and done.

I feel just the endless road built and destroyed where my children are resting.

For I had many children, wouldn’t you know.

They were the most fair: dark eyes, dark hair, white teeth gleaming in warning for mother sleeps soundly and needs not to be disturbed.

Still my car is running in the dead of the night.

Past gas services, past lives and deaths, past people and creatures made from a faulty deity who forgets and never really forgives me for my sins.

And thus the guitar sounds like the end of a world born in the dark.

And the clear tenor screeches notes of ireFire.

Been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true…[…]
Don’t know where you’re goin’
Only know just where you’ve been

I always collected satin ribbons.

I don’t know why I do it but now I find a rainbow made of every hue and I understand.

Some ribbons I have tied after I met you.

They are the most beautiful of all.

Still the colours of life.

Still in a dream.

Still there to remind me.

Like unsaid words into seasons and years.

Single days in bliss.

Those I will remember today. 🌻🌼🍁🌾🌄

Il primo sabato del mese di Settembre.
San Grato e la fine dell’estate.

Il frastuono delle voci sul soffitto alto dell’oratorio.

La vita che gira perpetua ancora…

Presto tutto questo rimarrà solo dentro la mia testa…nel silenzio.

Mentre pellicole strane, a tratti cliniche a tratti ironiche mi passano davanti…fra nuvole di fumo e quartieri cinesi.

Saigon e Lussello.

Antipodi e vicini di casa.

Come with me underwater.

And die to despise me no more.

4650

You no more than road under my wings

Yet more than every minute spent

Battling over dreams never dreamed

Men never loved

Thoughts and actions never put to fruition

Theater words made for tragedies and stories of woe

Far away in the decades

I spent learning

we are not mirrors

but black holes made to devour

and waiting to implode

You still more than every length I walked.

“You fell in love with my flowers but not with my roots, so when Autumn arrived you didn’t know what to do.”
– (via c-oquetry)

Bright light, almost blinding
Black night, still there shining
I can’t stop, keep on climbing
Looking for what I knew
Had a friend, she once told me
“You got love, you ain’t lonely”
Now she’s gone and left me only, looking for what I knew
~ Led Zeppelin

We all need a little beauty in life…

This is my fifth one (the big one, little is a gift for a couple that just married)…counting the ones Ti has at his flat also mine…. Me VERY obsessed 😁

 

Sto riascoltando i Nightwish dopo un’assenza di anni dalle mie playlist giornaliere.

E come tornare indietro di dieci anni per me (li avevo scoperti per caso fra il 2008 e il 2009).

O ancora più indietro, negli anni della mia infanzia a passare la notte con una torcia, un atlante e il naso rivolto all’insù per scovare le costellazioni.

Gli anni che ho passato ad ascoltarli on repeat quando il mondo aveva perso tutti i colori.
Quando io non sapevo più chi ero in realtà e tutto ciò che aveva un senso risiedeva proprio lì nelle mani di Tuom e compagni.

Sembra impossibile eppure i NW mi entusiasmano ancora adesso, adesso che sono lontana anni luce e ad ascoltarli mi viene la pelle d’oca.

Ho riletto DOR in parallelo ed è stato un connubio perfetto.

Quella fic, tutto il tempo speso a scriverla, tutte le notti passate a chiedermi che senso aveva quando in realtà ero totalmente incapace di prendere in mano ciò che restava della mia vita.

Sorrido ora nel pensare che DOR ha avuto un discreto successo solo perché ho vissuto per scrivere quella storia.

Allora non volevo ammetterlo ma ora non mi vergogno più: se non l’avessi scritta probabilmente non sarei qui a parlarne oggi.

Ho incontrato anche molte persone allora, persone che oramai non ho più sentito da un po’ ma è ok…eravamo unite da un comune amore per i NW e son sicura che nessuno di noi proverebbe niente se non un po’ di malinconia nel guardar indietro ma con un sorriso sulle labbra per tutto quello che abbiamo condiviso.

Sto guardando le stelle stanotte, un bel po’ più a Nord dell’ultima volta.

L’aria è umida e si fa tardi.

E Tuomas Holopainen ha sempre ragione su tutta la linea.

Story of your life
Time of solitude and strife
Freedom of an open road
Hope, and many miles to go
Promises to keep
Countless goldfields to reap
To be rich is to seek
To relive a memory

All the strangers on your path
Crossroads, the letters from home
The cooling embers of a Yuletide hearth
All the sounds of wilderness
The truth in which you roamed
Now your lost Rosebud has brought you back home

[Tuomas Holopainen ~ A lifetime of Adventure]

4560

Into an eclipse we run.

Not scared, barely able to breathe.

Sunlight black.

Keep the car running, never look back.

For distance is nothing when you’re not counting it with miles.

Time looks up, pushes you down, drops venom between your eyes.

No, we will never stop.

There is no shore, no security, no wings.

Only a one-way road in front of us.

We will die on a mirror, searching for truth and lies.

 

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Not every old thing can be fixed, but new ones might be found.

~ by someone somewhere I don’t quite remember when but the thought is rather stuck in my mind now.

Sera, tramonto, dopocena, quindi Ti alla guida della chevrolet darling ed è già notte.
“Do you have a thing for him, Fräulein?”
“Whom?”
rispondo, senza pensare mentre controllo lo smartphone.
Silenzio.
Blocco lo schermo e mi volto a guardarlo, il profilo illuminato dai lampioni.
“What were you talking about?”
“Leave it.”
“You sure?”
Non aggiunge niente mentre l’auto corre a velocità stabile fra gallerie e macchie di luna calante.
“Ti.”
“Yes?”
“Have I ever watched someone else the way I look at you?”
No, le fatidiche paroline non mi sono ancora uscite ed inizio a credere che non mi usciranno mai.
Rimane però che fra me e lui non ci sono ombre, un vero record a questo giro di boa.
“Fräulein.”
“Yes?”
“Want breakfast?”
“Famished.”
“Good, my treat, after that is your turn to drive us home.”
“‘kay.”
“SLOWLY.”

Sometimes there’s much more in the hidden thoughts, the unsaid words, the laughter and the quiet.
Running back where everything started.
We haven’t changed.
We are still here.
The first day we met was a dark day, full of bitter facets and scorn.
Yet you’ve came and stayed.
I can be hard at times, evil and difficult.
Still you’re here and you make my world revolve.

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