AGED POEMS

FAIRY TALE

leave him between the words, in the kingdoom of Saying
leave him like a sigh...to don't get it anymore
leave him without thinking,
like a raindrop on the glass.

leave him in the most gentle memories of istants without time
of looks without shyness, of hearts without peace

even more now, sticks out what is not cancelled by the time,
magnificent and terrifying contemplating how much feeling,
how strong and how deep is the track inside me

leave him in the dark made of life,
leave him in the privileged corner,
secluded in the center of my universe,
nestled between two strips of sky
playing,
like Cupid, with the small stars

fairy tale dreams and see you
fleeting reality, slow river
made and scented of flowers.

***
WONDERFUL THOUGHT

extreme sensations entwine
weave togethere thick woofs
and then totally diverge

calm mix with the most impalpable loliness
joy with a sweet and sour flavour
nothing I would change

and in my world happily lonely
between the most imaginative thoughts I rock myself
into the most daring plans I dive
and everything is just so simply
so complicated and so seductively vital.

and I enjoy the slightest sensation as the most appaling,
I feel my life in my hands like never before
and I don't control it neither I waste it
I just feel it, almost grazing it
like tought of word,
power not already in action.

***

THE PAST IN THE PRESENT

lost smiles in the sea of nothing
walking in places exploding of memories

memories, istants live in the present,
made of scents, scented of flavours
oh past nights, how much are you alive tonight?
and my soul is always questioning me,
is never getting calm, is not letting me in peace
she wants to know, why?

she asks and search from her depth
why are you keeping in your hearth those thoughts
that are tearing off you?

the answer is soft and silent
so wanted to not be found
dead leaf in the fall wind
wandering in the sky with no aim
in an over love's season

***
THE BEAUTY

a tought emerges,
word lost in the dreaming,
becomes true, drags herself
then falls weak full of rage.

how many words leftover?
how many jokes?

and yet they taste of cry
subdued and strangled cry,
not a human cry

different like any flower
with a common colour
and yet unique and rare
like a luminescent gem
with sparks sounding of universe

and fall...but doesn't rest,
is up again, is alive, is lonely
is gourgeous like the midnight sun
that smash the stones
of the sky street.