Posts Tagged With: writing


I wrote a poem
like a lonely woman
crying for someone
to make a gift of it
whoever passed by
dropped the well’s lid
without looking down

from too much yelling
my eyes got dry
I was blind
it was drought
the acacia grove whistled
for such waste

suddenly the wind
bent my crisscrossed arms
I breathed soul to soul
I cried tear from tear

someone left
without a word
my poem stuck to his soles
like dust

I tore a leaf and signed
I, anno domini

Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

One of Us Is Crying

I feel so guilty, my dear friend.
Like you, I am an honest person,
I will tell the plain truth this time,
begging you on my trope knees to forgive!
I did what all my brothers did.

Forgive my wild imagery, my baroque chain of metaphors,
my desert without flowers and all my singing out of tune!
Look what I did, open your eyes above your grass roots world.
I made you waste your pristine love,
your timeless memories, your treasured moments.
I drowned your life in despair. I was so lame my friend,
unable to shine brighter, to gather readers for your words
to understand your real feelings.

I’m a heartbreaker, I’m ashamed.
No one looked closer in my eyes
to see how many sleepless nights, headaches or smoking abuses
I made you go through,
only because you trusted me, believing I’ll be good for others.
And the few who read me condemned you
since I wasn’t beautiful or attractive for them.

Hell over me! You thought about paradise islands,
your solitude, Robinson Crusoe’s Bible,
white fairies hiding inside cherry trees…
I am the one to blame. I was too greedy to express it all.
Your feelings were forget-me-nots,
I was a voracious weed killing those flowers one by one,
a poisoned mistletoe climbing your tree of wonders.

Do you remember when you ceased bringing life
to my brothers, the other poems?
Weren’t you happier those days?
I don’t call you mom, it is too late for that and I am guilty
for all your poetry dreams or harsh realities, my woman-poet.
I drained your Milky Way full of newborn stars.
I made you feel weak and despised.

Please take it easy, open your eyes,
forgive me.
Leave me.

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

Like a Child

Searching for the sun I can’t avoid shadows.
I write only under half shades, like in a hammock,
my feelings at ease, my body yearning for peace.
I don’t touch half meanings, double meanings
or forever meanings.
Wherever I turn my eyes,
imaginary doors are closed.

Then I try to trim my kite’s tail,
floating between sky and earth,.
drowning or rising.
My poems are a foamy sea,
the same water goes from wave to wave.
It tastes like bitter coffee with home made sweets,
baked twice a year.

Usually I feel like the tin man searching for the land of Oz,
writing is the oil that helps me walk.

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Runaway poet

I am the poet without readers,
my eyes catch snowflakes in the clouds,
my fingers ramble through the cinders
of a late season closing doors.

Staying awake, gazing at stars
my rebel dreams vanish away
old songs are smothered in my years
where rhymes can’t find their proper pairs.

Now my embroidered lace is yellow
like pages that were never turned
the print that shaped the verse is old,
in a blind desert a blind train.


Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Poet’s Shadow

Coming out from the wall’s core,
where there is no window,
you can hear knotted strings
playing a soft cantilena,
lulling to sleep all past phantoms
coming alive in the shade.

The poet’s eyes are freezing them,
carving everything in stone.

My heart has found a revolving door
towards the old attic
where the moon keeps turning around
like an old gramophone.
Always the same tune.

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Blog at