Christmas Wish

May the Nativity of Christ
End these seasons of wrath,
Regrets may cease to exist
Repentance shall lead a new path,
Your birth brings such divine bliss, Jesus!

Children of all ages, alike,
Have been good or, at least, we tried,
Remember that sharing your heart
Is the best source of heavenly light.
Santa Claus comes to our homes
To praise and reward our virtuous souls  
My hopes are great, my love so high,
A perfect time for gratitude and togetherness
Spent with our dearest and most blessed ones!



to one another,
as if never having heard
the voice of each other,
we can even deny having seen
the dying whispers
drown in our veins
missing  without being missed
has killed our songs.
An alien  to myself now,
most of my earthly words
used to be free 
free and alive.
For years
they germinated inside me
I used to own them-
their noises and their sounds
Then you came along
their lyrics and their rhymes
now they are dead
unheard of
now all of them have died
and I’m silenced.


Common Timetable

electric chemistry,
a turmoil
of forbidden physics,
and visibly-emoted linguistics
wisely taught
the mathematics of hurt
science welcomes
a deserved nod
from both,
always able to explain
so much as our unexplainable history
and follow
a seductive geography of thought
through an inner network
only an IT expert could control
filling in the blanks
of poetry and music
to consume us,
to rightfully reward
these perfect hours,
and give the future time
even optional assignments
and motifs
to attend the rhyme.  

Oh, Rome…

on full-moon nights
like this, a distant howling
and the horrid wood sounds
of breaking dry twigs,
the tempting scarlet rugs
of fallen leaves and grasses
bring back to one's mind
the ancient legend of twins
raised inside a wolf pack,
the senseless fratricide
rooted in unsure combat,
and stories of a famed city
built on rivers of blood.


Christmas Nightmare

each year,
all ears can hear
the merry jingle bells.
The evergreen of X-mas carols
and too familiar “ho-ho-ho” chuckles
cheerfully escort the reindeer-drawn sledge.
Tonight, I hear
that old man Santa Claus,
is the most wanted around here!
His law breaking counts trespassing,
bribe-taking and down-the-chimney break-in;
Attempted blackmail makes his criminal charges list:
to get his presents, kids have been good and obedient
the whole of the 2014 year.
Witnesses report scones and some milk
have strangely been missing from their kitchens;
While others defend his activity and say he’s no criminal,
only  a generous mind-reader who knows what gifts to bring.
Next year, don't you fear that
with Santa Claus and his reindeer in prison
presents will have to be beamed from the North Pole


Winter's Poem

First steps 
on the thin ice,
red marble hands
holding me still,
a thousand bells
giggling out loud
noble gods
our heads
from heaven,
what a delight!


Christmas Dues

A ghostly thought
climbs up
the snow-capped rooftop
of a nearby building
leaving behind an empty corner
of my absent mind
for an obligatory, back-in-time journey.
Inside, my spine shivers,
my temples burn with silent fever,
my palms face the fiery fireplace
in a defensive gesture
which allows my eyes
to follow and emulate
the dancing flames
reflected on the white ceiling.
by lighting and tinsel I am,
in your sudden embrace,
I fell, confronted with my own longings
holding my breath still,
hearing sweet names whispered in my ear.
You see, I never feel ready
for such a harvest of bliss! Standing
between the fire and the fir-tree
I get almost knocked off my feet.
You and your thousand ways 
to make up for the snows' coldness,
so that we can peacefully sit 
for minutes on end
on the quiet warmth of a mistletoe branch
- speechless in winter -
feeling in rhymes or in blank verse
our matching stockings,
forgotten by ageing traditions,
resting their soft emptiness together
like a recently-opened present.
Years ago, one could almost count
the plastered indifference
of my chest around Christmas,
hear it out,
while rocking the bountiful bells
or wiping the old memory drops
rolling down an immaculate angel 
or some festive ornament figures.
I used to run out of carols and greetings
so often, back in the day, 
collected yet so dismissive,
a little girl grown into a woman
willing and able to stay for the winter
until  being taken for granted
and having her debts paid.


Sudden Relief

So this was all I needed:
the tranquility of my home,
the serenity of my prayers,
a few happy thoughts
crossing the borders of my soul,
You- in my heart-
to set me free
from the burdens of present
and those of the past
and a mapped future
wrapped in my wisdom
with a promising love that lasts.


.........Who broke us?
are we still beautiful
or this incompleteness
is just plain debris orbiting
a shooting star?
If wrecked, with no destination
to reach, in front of us,
if we are mere ripples of water
hopelessly left behind
with the rest of the origami pieces
waiting to go down,
            if our own epitaphs, unwritten,
shall remain a well-hidden rhyme
Then where are we going this time?
To an erupting volcano or to  a melting glacier?
See? A pulsing cadence and
streaks of blue rain hold us tight,
so that the young brooks may continue
to bear their  names and slowly baptize
a heart’s fears  falling apart
into a poisoned delta of alienation.
In truth, something broke us
something holds us together still
we breathe in the thick air
of implicit survival and repent our sins
while a sleeping quietness
falling against the cold cityscapes,
makes our blooming frailties
recruit new sizes and shapes.
Peace-torn paradoxes
can learn from any opened petal
to face the morning sun,
creation myths can be shattered
from any collective memory
whenever the hungry seeds of love
are sown in No Man’s Land...........


A Thanksgiver's Note

I breathe you thanks
You take your steps out 
of my golden circle
of dares
and whisper
sweet, parting words
my hopes
stay round only to spread
an improvised oath
on your proud sole marks.
we learned to be one
with the seashore,
the seashells’ pearls
secretly swallowed
by lunar tides
and listened to the inner echoes
aligning our touch.
To be here
we had to play hide-and-seek
with the thorns’ roses
and build beautiful bridges
from scratch.
A single verse or two
will do from this day on
So, thank you.
I will say it back, 
till I become the echo.
Thank you
not for the daily bread,
but for the thirsty blades
of grass
kissing my fingertips,
Thank you 
not for the singing voice
in my dream,
but for the songs that last.
Thank you.
It's been even more love
than I thought I’d recognize
more splendor and more tenderness
than where I come from
or we could afford.
An abundance of November rain
is rightfully expected
to inhale the wheat grains
turned into dust
by raging sand storms
while a gentle breeze
is equally willing to exhale
its spiraling evergreens
above the dark vaults.
From now on, 
whether sitting or standing
on the same river bank
this flowing soul
will follow its course
and you will be thanked.


Aurora Borealis

New deities
of dawn
are being grown
inside us
unshed blood
is rolling
like fluid dice,
and screaming
its raging vows
like solid bombshells of light,
the sun will come.
Silk strings of silence,
an iron curtain
drawn, at last,
to fully cover
the holy heartaches
running too quiet
whose dying whisper
cries "the sun will shine".
Wild tempers,
a peacefully magnetic storm
of torn up letters
and ice songs
on frozen grounds
for all those
drunk on white wine,
building a window
on every wall
only to prove
there will be light.


You are...

My first poem
by heart
Never to be forgotten
even if,
now and then,
I simply wish
I hadn't,
I still pray
I could.

Vampiric Embargo

beyond recognition
some crimson delusions
go through life
not knowing
to sum up everything
subtracted and divided
only to be multiplied
by an evil alter ego.
More faithful
than the pale shadows
left a few steps behind
we create lasting
within touch
to prove
to one’s memory
that feeling left out
when into this world
is no tragedy.
by former spells of dew
a mild tempest of stigmas
takes over my atlas.
In the same spirit,
full of horrid enigmas
inseparable from self-consumption,
most revelations
are rooted in two hearts.
Ravaged by the willfulness
of freezing cold
burning cheeks
are eventually embraced
and loved
by the  quiet thieves
that we are,
guilty of arson
and forswearing afterwards.
Q.E.D.and all 
we keep running and running
away from a bloody mess
while in our own heart
we rehearse
coming back for less.


Blind Tasting

I love you. And why shouldn’t I?
You silence me and
color me in this tornado
of aromas
and when at it
you also quench my twirling soul.
I may not be much
to offer,
I may not be a blessing
in disguise
but I do care
more than those morsels of regret
we ingest at dawn
and the crumbs of temptation
locked in my hair.
No waste of words,
No sacrifice too painful
to be borne,
no demons
to feed
on our living flesh and bones.
Sanguine echoes
in this cup’s warmth,
on this square marble table
we are born.
And again.
And again.
Innumerable anticipation sighs
around us,
Dry lips redeem our sobbing
and our vintages
in front of a teary east wind.
Out-of-sight, never in vain,
we mirror our own reflection
behind a thirsty blackout
keeping us quietly in love.


One morning,
I drew a hopscotch design
on the floor in my room.
I was alone,
I could make up my own rules
so each square
was going to be another day
away from you.
Two or three times in a row
- my feet can be clumsy, I know-
I stepped on the thin line
and I would also hop
the wrong square now and then
to challenge the odds
and increase the speed of time.
The game may be useless
and I’m no longer a child
but turning around
would regain me balance
and restore an innocence smile.


Catchers in the Tide

Life happens inside me
As it does inside you
instead of pearl oysters
we are chasing together
the echoes
of startled silhouettes
evicted from memory.
Not all birds fly south
in winter
Not all men tiptoe
in the presence of God.
My fingertips breathe,
A soft stillness
marries the humility
of my prayers
as I kneel down
on the white silk
to succumb to your visions.
Let’s bide here,
I’ll tell you as much or as little
You are my south and my prayers
The spirited pathway
leading my footsteps
to a golden shield.


To the Best of My Ability

You know...
I could be anything:
a speck of dust
in the morning wind,
a grain of sand
under your strolling feet,
a handful of mud
at the roots of the grass leaves
.... in your garden....
Anything you wanted me to be
I'd become
As long as I can just be around.


Filled Hollows

You are my zenith,
to reach you,
I'd cross a pathless heath
and share more
than the colors of the skies
swaying above the holy beliefs
of angels
born-n-raised as heathens
or the delayed remorse
of a wild child.
Though getting lost
in this cosmic vastness
might confirm some of our fears
We can still walk
we can still run,
all this changing distance
between south and north.
Our blank or rhymed verse
channels and bridges
like a snow cloud,
stopping the pace of time
right in its middle.
Breathing your spring tones
suddenly explains
why being us
feels much easier
than being 
just you or just me. Around,
some candles have burned down,
some are burning away
the sorrow of man
then they are put out
for a while
not to obstruct
the gods' worthy worship
but to preserve a light.
Let’s pause now,
in this deliberate darkness;
Words have been drained
of love
for a nobler purpose
whose means justifies the ends,
the sacred winds
have chiseled holes
in our bodies
making us look like two lanterns.


Consolable Whispers

Though shoulders
will still be straining
Under the weight
of loss,
a trembling,
almost unheard voice
summons your breath
not to be held in vain,
and just wait
the miracle
of its soft echoes
has finally come around 
to filter
the sour bitterness of regret,
out of your blood.
by forgetfulness,
misfortune memories
may break
into my private thoughts
at times,
out of the blue.
The irony is
a single incantation
from you
will always help forgiveness
to wash away,
for good,
the gray remains of the horizons
in both our views.
With the scar pains
and dignity restored
Pride will be put to rest
and the insoluble grief
will be dissolved
by an eternal present,
the real delight,
growing so splendidly
within our chests.
Sharing our rainbows 
and our verve
by the vital wealth of love
makes for no waste
only allows our spirit
to be embraced
like second chances are
at a new crossroads.



We circumnavigate
the globe, an elastic breeze 
is attached
around our waists,
the free fall was checked 
by both
and a new colony
of mild impressions 
and blue epiphanies
to cushion our voyage.
In silence,
we bounce up and down
against the rising stars
sufficiently deaf-
to the mermaids'charming songs
and blind enough-
to any nymph’s dance.
Enchanted by ashes of rebirth
(our own)
and music of spheres
We shall hold hands
to remind ourselves,
without words,
that only heaven knows
how long
we have been in the same barge,
rocking and rolling
in our own storms,
how often we have been
in charge
of a pirate vessel
seizing the treasures and debts 
of the smooth, treacherous sea
or a warship
setting course only
to restore peace.
Right now
with an invincible fleet
of safe thoughts
rounding the Cape of Good Hope
there’s no need
to burn this boat
which brought us near,
there's no need
to leave this irreversible harbor,
or abandon the burdensome cargo
oppressing a way back home.



Joy sneaks in
through the suave air
to breathe its splendors
and its infinities
while a deep musing
gingerly locks away
a trickster’s labyrinth
of ache and grieving
with clairvoyant dare.
An exuberance of grace,
of self-forgiveness
and warmth 
is flipped out,
on a canvas
of perpetual maze
with an abundance
which outweighs both
the triumph of small things
and earthly glory
of one's shortest hours.
Without a doubt,
you are and will be
but a mirror
reflecting silver linings.


Honeyed Reveries

A man of depth,
one of the best kind
there is,
in the presence of faith
I can feel his essence
being  kissed
on the cheek,
then forehead
and an elusive life line
in the palm
of his left hand.
They feel right,
my secret vows
to him,
they shall remain
secret and bound
to a timeless ground.
Back to back,
and through dropping eyelids,
the shining tears
won’t deny
the candied words
he steals from my mouth
or those hidden
behind my neck
in late spring.
A bliss of fate,
he will be - one
casting its longed shadow
in the night garden
and over  the sea waves
until my soul
has grown feet
to be swept off -
then settle down on a rest day
for the length of a life’s retreat
in a sweet nook,
a heartfelt beat away.


Summer E-scape

Others will never notice
the humble feet
stepping out 
of a cold sea
and into the arms
of an unknown season
but you - You make 
a much-embraced wave
slow down
and the warm wind's touches
tenderly retreat.
with your dense silence,
I smile
knowing I am
no longer invisible
to you, and shiver,
seeing you nod
with my shadow
has made that perfectly clear.
A mysterious fever 
rushes through my veins
as I become sightless:
the rays of fond light
interfere with the breeze
capturing  the entire you
inside the frame
of a most genteel picture.
Standing here,
tall and overprotective,
you hold my shoulders
with your hands
and melt me back
from pieces.
Tears and incoming scents
are consumed
by both
so that, somehow,
we can soon re-paint
the colorless deserts
into the greenish shades
of a self-made heaven.
Right on this stage
surrounded by sand lines
two simple souls are merged
to perfection,
embraced as our own,
singing and dancing
with the golden songs out there
in the name of love.