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For a daughter, who grew up within a family that define normal now is to make a great compliment, we should at some point in life to thank the parents for what they have given or have not given to pushing grow in the best possible way, always ready in any case to support it in its choices and helping them to see the flaws in his reasoning often too impulsive to assess the disastrous pursuit of its own actions-I do not like big things is Go the way you thank me most is well: writing.

In my Father and my Mother

My Winter Rose

Ineffable is my Winter Rose,
Unparalleled its hidden beauty.
I watch, hoping to match it
somehow
gratified to find, in the delicate corolla
of human features,
shards of me.
the mother I have drawn its sap

to quench the hungry mouth
that knew no word but only
silent cries.
His impalpable shadow
me sheltered from the sun,
from 'his merciless drought,
without covering the' essential light.
From every plug
I learned life.
from each petal,
love supreme.
Many times I reached out touching
shaking the ethereal velvet
bramante to understand what she conceals
fragrance in folds of human experience.
many sorrows! How many unspoken joys
immutable touch time eager.
But, alas,
every petal is destined to fall
torn by hand and merciless kind, and when the last
,
caressed the soft surface soil will
the pluck,
retains scents of a fragrance.

To my teacher of life

My thoughts touching you
my playmate and master of life;

fondles her childhood memories of youth and all that nonsense
So I did not understand
Now I understand, and I wonder how difficult it was for you


while watching a piece of your heart
explained the featherless wings and inexperienced
to hover in the skies and boundless unknown
of a life is not always right;
watch
precipice while I threw into the flames of my mistakes but
emerging again,
hang on to your outstretched hand, stronger and more resolute
, and like the mythical phoenix reborn from my ashes
becoming what they are. How much was hard to see

and pretending to be blind?
How much was hard to watch while you
replaced with passion without love?
How much do you think has hurt the
I did not have no more essential

that amount that makes you invaluable to me as a child?
Now I understand your strength, your courage in
let me go, but you were wrong ...
you wrong if you thought I did not
vital because there's always been a place dear in the depths
and not the heart, but my soul
that is rooted in you, the man whose smile in

not heard on the lips, but in the eyes,
which are the mirror of our essence in man

ready to joke that sometimes I even hurt
senz'intenzione
but that does not pierce your
heart if not by mistake.
I'm part of the man who played the Latvian
and tickle between her coffee and waited somersaults;
are part of the man with an agitated look
understood thing in me;
part of the man who knew, even before
of my mind,
what I thought, how I would react.
are part of the man looking at me staring at a thousand fragments

mirror and understand at a glance what I really am;
quell'adolescente grizzled
that combines the thoughts of a child
to that of a centennial essay.
And one thing I regret:
turn around
back and see the unnecessary days lost in fantasies
not lived in the days when I chased
utopian illusions.
And now?
Now I want to live a thousand lives and
still not enough for me to get tired of you,
of my detention, my safe harbor

the certainty of my existence. Thanks

Other poems

native country

I have memories of friendly people ,

festive, laughing,

the streets of your gold.

Heat suffused with fresh and gardens,

springs and babbling brooks

backgrounds ranges from bright green.

Villagers plump, made small talk

is in the door and talk and talk

and the square of the Holy French

laughing children engaged in play.

And then what happened to the sweet country

nestling between the hills and the clear blue?

The sun has gone out. There is no more heat.

The silent streets. The square emptied.

The green of the mountains begins to brown,

spring water suddenly fail.

not hear nor wives garrulous voices

suddenly all is silent for your street.

Fear is rampant, violence is the hand,

faces covered with nothing of human beings.

leading the death are feral minds

with short thoughts, immature and lethal.

windows boarded up, but with eyes and feel,

tight-lipped on human fear.

What did you do, oh cruel shepherd

to his hometown, in my beautiful flower?

You've starved. In the rubble fell

not fruit matures, the trees tired.

The most tender buds are forced to go

they look back with eyes dripping,

but have lost their way and do not know to come back.

There is no sap of life, native country,

nor future, nor bread, nor courage to stand.

standing still, languishing

an old man dying.

But if You got shot and left for dead

's no talk

while the fault is mine.

My route

What is your route? Where to aim your eyes?

This friendly voice asking me or thinking brain,

but I do not have answers to questions.

I follow the route traced by the sun

from east to west on the day he spends

appears and disappears in the red light

placid waters of misleading and false.

The star more clear to me the way Judas

in dark velvet embroidered with silver.

a thousand and one son was at anchor ports,

choice of heart or human pretensions.

I set sail, my companions majestic

hoping the wind changing friend,

accompanying the broken or destroyed and devastated,

stormy sea with his trusted ally,

that forces landing in crevices of life,

often sublime appearance deceives

silent and waits for your first hole

and then capitalize, you lay siege,

you rummage, wounds, prevents startup.

But you moved on, beaten and defeated.

rend the sails, scratched the keel,

hope for the best for you and your crew,

sharp rocks or buildings or dry,

but still you are wrong because. ..

is not fresh flounder in this sea

like a distant voice singing.

And I suspect captures the fear and longing,

that the 'Last port will be my goal.

That safe haven welcome my return

with snowy peaks and smell of the sea

smiles never dull and divine thoughts.

Then, my friend and travel companion ever

of my route I know

but no words will touch your hear,

because I found the port and nothing else I know.

I have no memories.

Meschino inventor

Hush! ... Hush ... Hush cruel liar!

you who, with the black veil of deception, you have hidden in the world

the limits of your soul liar,

while with his lips dripping lie to me the meaning rapivi

saziandoli mere falsity of ...... now shut up!

not delude myself that behind that mask of false

staying a pure feeling,

because it is denied to your soul vicious.

Now hush hush ... petty inventor of a non-existent love

I ask forgiveness.

With cold hands, Reality claws

and fatal blow, I torment

troubling ways, scratched her heart.

Neither love nor desire for life

painted your eyes,

but sadness, pain

and bitter disappointment reality

Shook the snowy features

your face fairy.

Love, I pray you pardon

for vile lies,

forgiveness for shameful lies.

you I need, my soul.

Source Quench life again.

Hello SA

brief and fleeting flash of light,

but intense ... shiny.

bouquet of tender pink

delicate ... unforgettable.

Waxing in dark night.

gentle caress of bright angel

the most vivid blue sky.

Tender plant hit by the wind.

ship at the mercy of dark storm

firm now in safe harbor.

Dream shattered on rocks graf fianti.

All of this is you,

dear friend,

sadness ... joy ... sorrow ... pain,

source inexhaustible tormented love.

my soul

T ' I love sweet dream

to measure my heart

vagabond dreams of a blind home

charity and a crumb of your love.

So I love you.

Forte is my need you.

lot of my impatience.

Panting my breath

to your thought.

against true love, nothing is possible.

All alloy, nothing could divide.

All claims, all beef.

Nothing can bring it down.

What can the fire, if not turn on the meaning and passion?

What the water, if not lulled into a forgetfulness of love?

Nothing can not take them back if the land in its fertile womb

and help us to flourish and to give new fruit.

Nothing can wind

that relentless blows into our minds

roots and all, except love,

because the real

is secure from the heart and not by reason.

Nothing can death against love

if not two separate bodies

because souls are united for eternity.

love is sufficient unto itself and grows by feeding with love,

asks for nothing more than to be returned.

And I ask nothing but my soul.

if you do not love me forever.

Fragments of love

What made me naive innocence?

What you showed to my innocent eyes?

You changed, oh misleading fairy

a feral rock

in strong, secure grip.

lethal blows are his bosses,

no safe place to rest hopes.

He alone between the earth and the immense.

He alone among my blood el'Eccelso.

I extend the bank false smiles,

to give certainty to the excerpts of my heart.

But there is no certainty in painful cuts

that the sea salt makes burning.

The sun sets and rises again

and clothe my rock

to hurt anyone

defend the port by dark threats

and he does not help me, continues to vibrate

pointing merciless claw raptor.

My foot falters ... I can not fall

I owe it to life, to spare my heart.

matches my dreams, hopes and endless

spread my wings to foreign lands.

recatemi not help. I do not want subiate.

I'll stay here I call

Glorious warrior

your future will be defender

Go away, do not turn back

that I can leave my chore

spillante My blood will then flow

of the vermilion red saran 'waters of the sea.

But there is no pain in this departure,

only peace of mind and heart.

By now you have been saved

Fragments of Love