WOBBLE


My questions are no longer keen,
Small pebbles on the bottom line.
My senses bring flavors within,
They blow out my mind like a wine.

The river washes its ground bed
For many years going ahead.

I don’t search, I don’t wait, I don’t hope.

All tears left my memory stream,
A fire grows high from a dream.

The past is a white timeless night,
A blind moon forgetting to shine.
I still feel a cold flimsy light
So deep in this body still mine.

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OUR OLD HOUSE


Wandering most everywhere,
I passed once by that small creek,
Finding our old house there
Where I used to hide-and-seek.

I passed once by the small creek
Where wild grasses grew so tall,
And I looked over the wall.

Finding our old house there,
With gossamer nets as drapes
With my grandpa’s sour grapes.

Where I used to hide and seek
All the trees were almost dried,
I looked back again and cried...


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INTUITION


Like a heart upon a stone,
Amber burning on a pyre,
Like the scent drilling to bone
On that painful, brilliant fire,

Like a walking on a wing,
Rustles waking up our ears,
Dreams forgotten every spring,
The beginning of all fears,

Like a truth in this time flight,
Finding in my palm foundation,
Which I held maybe too tight
To believe in its perfection.

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A PAIR


She liked white roses in a vase,
Visiting art shops after school,
He liked sci-fi, boxing, sport cars,
Swimming each Monday in the pool.

They met one day while it was raining,
Shopping for hats on the main street,
And both of them were just complaining,
Because the colors were not fit.

He needed black, she wanted blue.
They saw each other in the mirror.
She smiled at once without a clue,
For she was not a conqueror.

They were engaged after a year:
She wearing blue with a black glove,
Cornflowers for the atmosphere,
Both with straw hats, vowing their love.

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THE STORM


A heavy cloud’s silence is shattered
Through every lightning shrilly blast,
Painful memories are scattered
Like night’s haunting blues from the past.

This time flight of questions and fears
Trims yesterday hopes’ flimsy wings.
My last open smile disappears,
An omen among other things :

A dark moon burns under my eyes,
Coating in ashes a blunt knife.
Red stars hide behind summer skies
Long, tedious and dull feelings strife.

And if I abandon my dreams
Refusing to taste bitter dew,
Ignited by lost love, like gleams,
Tears grow within torches of rue.

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THE SAME SONG


So many dreams in Venice blurred,
Stars showing gondolas their way.
With sparkless eyes, a lonesome bird
Mourns quietly his love gone stray.

A lonely girl with shaggy hair
Walks all alone in St. Mark's Square.
Her memories dance under vaults
Along a gondolier's sad waltz.