Art and poetry...

The art is passion, the passion is life, the life is dream, the dream is poetry, the poetry is art.
Landscapes, figures, images, sensations, emotions, fantasies: Everything can be contained in a canvas and talk to its colours

Today
In the palette of my dreams
I put the only white
What cancels everything
And he dilutes with his pallor
The red intense of my passion.
Your vanish behind an opaque sea
Intentionally smooth, without wave blows
He makes hear as a butterfly
What flies above a lawn without flowers
To the hopeless search of a colour
Which put his tired wings on.
Then paint again my lies
With your smile, with your allurements
And sudden as an emotion
Brilliant dark tears in trasparence
They relight the vermilion and the magenta
Giving back to my dreams and my life
The strong illusion of the happiness.

If he copper-plates nudes and streched
They were your arms
What as silvery ribbons
Sides surrounded me
And they took me in the sky
With a coloured wake
And if these dark clouds
They were your lips
What as turgid rivers
They dragged me at the sea
In a blue depth
And if your lean words
So short and distant
They were strawberries and cream
And satisfied me of cake
And of love
If you were not yourself
When in silence you go in the wind
Without a smile, a second thoughts
Then
And only then
I would hear about living indeed
Some more

In my solitude
Your face
And your smile
Stream improvises
As pearl flashes
And a beautiful music
Takes light
To the deaf sound
Some dark silence of mine.
In the just lit up darkness
Sculpt on my tired body
Seductive dance
Of a moment lived intently
And then leave that the petals of rose
Notes beaten out of clear velvet
They tell the moon
And to the whole world
The enchantment chase of our poetry
A dream that does not want to vanish away

No one have your beauty
No one love me as you loved me
With your clear eyes as water
Some exotic seas, among the green one and the blue one.
Touch quivering with violins mutes
They still resound with sweetness
In the solitude that you left
When died, in the yellow of the sunset
Lost love
What you can not become again any more.

... And I grip this photography among the hands
Enchanted landscape of Maremma
And I remember our keen kiss
While the sun was blazing on us:
One was losing the clear amber of my eyes
Inside the very clear sea of yours.
Lay down me on the earth red brown
A bush of albatrelle for pillow
You put me a cornflower among the hair
You took me in the eternity.

He does wind of sea, this evening
And he wrinkles the waves
Furious.
Lean your face against my breast.
Alga smell already died there.
Neither a star that shines.
There is the lighthouse, silente, that cuts
Of oblique
The already deep night.

The dark ochre of the fields opens
In me and to my tired eyes
As a slowly moved fan.
At the end the trees
With their green
They confuse the leaves with your face
They drown the colours of the sunset
In the grey opaque of the evanescent sky
Vanished by now toward the horizon.
The melancholy assails me strongly
To have already loved
To have to become again
To laugh and talk to hypocrisy.
I would like to stay here, among these clods
With the head leant on your chest
To play the eternal game of the life
And become night together with you.

And you also, talk to me now to hypocrisy
With whose formality he would like
That I left
From me you look several neither kisses nor caresses
Your nuisance gleams
And you look for the words
To mask your intolerance hardly
The strong irritation that you from my presence.
The moon him is suck all our dreams
The sweet sensation became fog
To find him again lost set to do the love
In the empty space that leaves me
He revives as a flower
Sprayed of scarlet
The pain anguish
And the intense perfume of the flowery wistaria
He takes back my thought
To the beaten by now time
From coloured vanished shades in the blue
What became dark
As the night that he around runs me.