the rhythm of castanets awakens the moon
on opal rings your kisses spin
a cricket’s hitting a crescendo
waves tattoo dark shadows on your skin
sonority, you who vibrates the souls
of those who haunt at night the Port of Cartagena
I toss in smells of apricots and plumes
the Hand of Fatima takes off my veils
your forehead sinks into the sweat of lovers
who sever their veins
oh, dream of the unknowns,
the sigh of blood which flows
in spring both mud and flowers grow
didn’t you know
that when you said I love you
you stepped on roads of fables and folk tales?
you glued your heart onto a purple sunset
smells of lilac and of roses, impregnated strolls,
it wasn’t me
it was you who stole his soul
image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]
A whole week.
Seven agonizing nights; seven suffocating nights rushing over me, parching my soul with their torrid breezes.
Myriads of mosquitoes murmuring in the dark, looking for prey: my own flesh, my own blood.
Nights extending their heavy tentacles over the city, strangling it as a venomous octopus; abandoning it at sunrise lacking vigor, emptied of hopes, filled with trash.
Glued to my heated body, lace and silk soaked in perspiration. I am looking out of the window. I can’t see you.
In this city clocks have no hands, years have no months, months have no days. Outside of time, the city is innocent, perverse, philosophical, suicidal.
Shadows of your eyes; fragments of your voice hidden inside me.
Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers
in the rhythms of the Flamenco
whose sounds invade the nights of Southern Spain
to breathe the notes of the guitars which play
and fill the lustrous eyes with burning pain
in the Florence of my dreams
to walk with Leonardo in its streets
to cry with the Madonna and to verse in Greek
when the last word of Christ forever speaks
in a Hindu monastery
in splendid nights my sufferings unpacked
and in the shadow of Mandala
give me the power never to come back
image: Everett-Art; Shutterstock; [link]
FIND ME! POETRY AND MUSIC
My Dear Readers,
I am delighted to let you know that my talented friend Ankit Thapa and I just finished our second online collaboration: poetry and music (vblog)
lyrics and recitation: short-prose-fiction (me)
“moons illuminate your skin…”
My Dear Readers,
My poem “Forgotten in the Port of Naples” is up at Spillwords Press.
Thanks you for your support. Love and hugs to everyone.
meet me in the Port of Naples
in humid nights inside the Palace of Capodimonte…
please continue reading here:
image: S-F; Shutterstock; [link]
a bird rises from the ashes
inside my soul
the desperation of the boats which never leave the shore
tolls the waves like a church bell
the moon gets pregnant with desires
continue reading here
the moon’s right-hand
pours soul into my flesh
pigeons’ wings bring scents of lilac blooms
the air gets drunk with poetry
statuary women of the water
flaunt their hair
within the loneliness of you
rotates five equinoxes on a wooden spindle
your eyes pour flesh into my soul
my body germinates
the sounds of growing leaves
i wash my hands into the waters of Guadalquivir
in the scented night of those who never sleep
i love you
and in one single breath
our wedding is transformed
into a cosmical enraptured death
was it the moon?
was it the morning dew?
perhaps it was the miracle of you
deification of the virgin nymph
within my palms
the flesh of violet sunsets flips like fish on land
my eyes, inheritors of light
singular sinkholes punctuating a low sky
your love, eternal summer with no births or deaths
doors lock by themselves
into the secrets of that which will be
the danger of me
deeper than the darkest sea
The morning star, dethroned by you, cries like a dusty lyrical memory that nobody needs anymore. Your love’s blaze pushes millions of suns toward the margins of the universe. They look like yellow drops of wax trickling at the feet of saints before vanishing into a pile of sand.
Your touches cloak my skin with new zodiacal signs. Your kisses imprint violet maps on my lips.
I am watching you. You are taming lions. You are awakening fairies. Stella Polaris is shining in your eyes.
I was a neophyte when it came to love. You made me the king of love.
Right hand on my heart, I promise you, Clara, that I will conquer the world for you and I will lay it at your feet.
So help me God.
Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”
More from “Glass Lovers”
I am the wounded healer
Clara: The Power of Water
Please find the Italian translation of my poem “amor, amore, mon amour – mediterranean” up at Gioielli Rubati Poetry.
You can read the Italian translation on the link below together with 3 other wonderful poems.
My thanks to the translator for his magnificent work!
Gioielli Rubati 32: Fabia Grenzovich – Pasquale Vitagliano – Gabriela M. – Antonella Marinetti – Macalder02 – Maria Allo – Marcello Comitini – Luisa Zambrotta.
I will see you in a few hours for my regular Sunday post.
Ciao for now!
You can find the English version of my poem here.