The accidental writer by Tom Padula – 2008/9

It was February 1968 and I was sitting at one of the tables on the first floor of the Baillieu Library at the University of Melbourne, next ...

Chapter 1 - Poetry My Friend Vol.2

LOVE


Love is what moves humanity and the cosmos. If it were not for

this intense emotion, there could not even be life itself.

Love is therefore one of the most important pillars of life. Love

needs to be part of every type of human activity if we want harmony

between ourselves.

It is when Love is absent that things go wrong, because then that

element of care which we have for ourselves and others becomes

lost in the mire of our existence. To get out of such a situation, all we

need, once again, is love!

There are many types of Love. We can live one or more of these

forms of Love at any time. One of the basic elements of this emotion,

however, is that it is fleeting. We can lose it at any time. What do

we do then? Where do we go looking for it? I don’t know the

answers. What I do know is that manifestations of Love are present

around us at all times.

The first poem in this chapter ‘Love’ is an attempt at defining

what love is. Where and when we can find it or, better still, when

does it find us.

‘My friend’s smile’ was written when a friend of mine went to

Italy for a year to improve his Italian. There he met someone very

special. He used to mention her name often, as if he could not live

without her. His love for this young woman was particularly intense

during the first few months of his return to Australia.

There are so many more poems about Love. Indeed this first

chapter is dedicated to Love. It is one of the recurrent themes of my

poetry. I finish off the chapter with a song “ Long live love, hooray!”

Then I proceed to explore Love and Marriage. To finish, there is a

special subsection about an Italo-Australian wedding in Swan Hill, a

country town north of the State of Victoria in Australia, our Lucky

Country!

I finish off this chapter on Love by including also some poems on

Happiness. I hope that whoever follows the path of Love will also

be blessed with a state of Happiness. It seems to me that Love and

Happiness are natural allies!



Love


Love is fleeting

it goes walking throughout the world.

Everyone speaks of it,

everyone wants to meet it.

It comes close and says always

Hello! How are you!

It is confident, it is happy,

it is good company, it is a friend.

Love is reality

for those who have their hearts

full of kindness.

You embrace love

you hug it every night

you caress it,

you accept it as it is.

Love needs company,

everyone knows this if they have it.

Love never dies.

Love can be a vagabond. This is well known.

It goes everywhere

always running, playing,

singing...

like a child who makes you happy.

Love is rich in variety,

and changes fantasy into reality

Love is life, joy, happiness.

Love is what you want to do.

Love is hope and charity.

Love is to love people

with all your heart

without pitying them.

Love is to say “good morning”

to your neighbour.

Love is freedom and truth,

it is trust,

fraternity,

equality.

Love surrounds all

and loves everything.



My Friend’s smile


What a smile on the face of my friend

when he speaks to me of his woman!

He becomes like a child again full of happiness.

He thinks of her,

he’d like to hold her

very close, at night.

He looks in the distance...

“I wonder where she is now” he says...

and remembers those moments

by the seashore...

that last time before leaving.

I say to him “Dreams are more beautiful

than reality”.

But my friend smiles

with his vagabond look,

as if to say: “She is beautiful”.

Instead he chooses

silence.



Love on the Brighton Pier


I have loved once

a beautiful girl

on the Brighton pier.

Her bright dark eyes

glimmered with delight

like the waves glimmer

under the warm sun

of Spring.

An old lady walked by

and looked towards us,

but her eyes were far

beyond the times we knew.

She thought of the boy

who had loved her too

on the Brighton pier.

She had loved him...

and so did my love.

Time has faded away,

and my love too.

What I have now

is still that love I knew...

but have no more.



There Yonder


With dreams of vagabond love,

there yonder in those meadows of stars,

I hear a voice which says clearly:

“In your heart you’ll always find

the rebounds of love”.

Then I feel pain

mixed with sweet rancour

for those shining dark eyes.



A Feeling of Delicacy


Love...

a word whispered away in the wind's delicate

breeze,

carried over ocean waves in far away seas.

Cruel pearl of humanity,

jewel of light.

Truth! Thou art so bright...

so unpleasant, so clear;

but spring is always there...

and loneliness too...

together and apart:

a feeling of delicacy.



Oh, the good old days!


What a situation!...

To live a love untrue...

To feel the way you do...

To flirt on the dunes of time

in a desert covered with lime.

Romance is passion in disguise

mistreated by love’s oversight,

left on the pillow of truth

in nights shining bright.

We hawk the present,

retaining the moment...

and, out of grasp by morn’,

when anew rejoices dawn,

we leave the past forever...

to pass from dune to dune...

to return on the prints of time,

which, alas!, are no longer the same...

moving about in closed walls

where loneliness gnaws the heart,

where self relearns its truth

forever knowing the whys

that it no longer survives.



To the girlfriend of my Youth


Dear flower of my youth

how I would have liked to touch your heart

with such a sweet and tender friendship

that the stars could have smiled at us

from a dark sky in a winter’s night!

Oh my love of all times

you inspire the greatest of poets.

You touch the heart of the courageous

and weaken the strength of the great.

My friend from past times,

I remember you always:

under a bridge of a village,

in the air of the astronauts,

running on fresh grass

and on the clouds of my heart.



The beautiful blonde


Oh beloved blonde

with the gentle heart,

you are the most beautiful flower

of the whole world!

You are an angel on firm land

and woman in the infinity of the skies.

You are a guide dog of the blind on Earth

and an altar of hope in dark churches.

Your smile extends in the immensity

like rays of sunshine in Spring.

Your beauty rejoices the gentle heart,

Your eyes shine with tender kindness.

Your hair loosened in the breeze

makes a flag for pretty beauties.

A gentle person has a gentle heart,

a rough young villain has a hard heart.

Wounded by your beautiful looks,

love forgets its duty in an instant,

whilst you, beautiful amongst beauties,

bring hope to an unloved heart.



Undecided Heart


Night ice of my heart turn

your shadows towards the infinite

and look at the two shining stars

play in the vast radiant mantle.

Up there, on the other side of dreams,

in the eternal peace of hearts,

two small lights think about

nothing else but themselves.

Further up, from a golden balcony,

you can see an enchanted castle

full of happy prisoners,

chained with soft thorns.

The enchantment thaws for a moment

and opens the doors to love

for those who have not yet known

the joy of summer days.

But you, undecided fool, continue

to play with the human Venus

because you still do not know

that stars also have

hearts.



The star of the world


Look at the light of the sun,

oh sweet friend !

Continue to live in hope,

oh delightful soul !

Only you will save the world,

oh divine creature !

Faith, hope, charity

are for you three sweet flames

which burn in your gentle heart

with a growing force of love.

Example of divine friendship

in the eternal earthly world

ensure that men revere

your beauty, your soul.

You are a mortal woman, I know,

but you acquire a divine appearance

in front of my earthly eyes.

Virtue is for me an ideal,

for you, oh my dear friend, it is reality.

I look at your pale face,

I look at your glance full of kindness,

you caress me with sweet words,

you caress me with your infinite love.

I see you and the stars in the sky:

You are the star that lights the stars,

in you is wrapped all the love of the world,

in you the dreams of different beings.



Lost dreams


Star in the changing sky,

why do you vanish in an instant?

Am I becoming blind

or are you disappearing with time?

Do you remember those times past

when I, on that evening of summer,

looked at you in the infinite sky

and felt your warmth in my heart.

Cold is the present,

ice is my mind.

Your rays now lost

in other worlds, in other spheres,

no longer touch that child

who lives beyond my dreams.

I regret that moment in the past

when I looked at you in the infinite:

you, oh my dear, took my hand,

and brought me into the heart of human Utopia.

Now I no longer dare to look,

no longer raise my eyes towards the sky.

I know that I won’t ever again look up to heaven,

never again dream!



A Memory


Out of the immense darkness of the sea

in a warm night of summer

two lights glimmered in the horizon

where eternity meets the South Seas.

My heart carried into infinity

by thoughts of everlasting joy

implored time to stop for a moment.

Peace overwhelmed my being

while I looked at the stars

and in the eyes of my love.

There, motionless, under that gum-tree

she looked out to sea:

her gaze embraced that cloak of darkness

while her lips drank champagne from a paper glass.

The winds of time have unfolded again

but memories of those moments past will never be spoilt

by this rat-race world.

On that night of my birth

I heard from the starry sky

music of angels sing the wonders

of God and the greatness of Love.



Gift of Life


The dearest, the greatest,

the most beautiful gift of life

is love.

It transcends life itself,

death… everything.

The seas, the skies, the stars,

the mountains capped with white,

the hills in flower, the trees,

the birds… all of nature

is a slave to its yoke.

But one day will come when I,

seated on a bench,

under a tree in flower,

will look down towards the horizon,

in that twilight of summer,

besides her… with dreamy eyes,

with sweet looks, full of life,

but at that moment in peace.

I shall love that open mind,

that dazzling smile,

the weaknesses, the soft pink cheeks,

the kindness and the human virtue.

That day I shall tell her: “I love you.”



Forever... I dream


Shy, fleeting and young,

my beautiful one, who among so much din,

has always retained her decorum.

She seems to me in moments of cheerfulness

statuesque and divine in reality.

She has always appeared in my serene days

uncatchable… like when as a child

I put out in vain my tender hands

to grab the stars so far away.

What a pity! I could have in this vain

world enjoyed the joys of Spring,

which always passes so quickly,

with no goodbye.



Gone with the wind


Oh my dreams so warped and vain,

when attracted by Spring’s breeze,

so cold and thoughtless, so inhuman

in the face of lovable looks…

Reckless, like iron-clad gloves

piercing the weary and desperate looks.

Then joy surmised, left afoot,

on Winter’s days in Summer lights,

revealing to me the cold of noon,

the shadowy mist of past remains!

I loved the beauty of unsuspected truth,

the solitary look fading with time,

till the ‘morrow shone so bright

on green fields so peaceful and quiet.

I loved the joy of serenity:

happy neglect

of human resort.

I need the stillness of cool nights,

when tenderness rejoices skylarking bright.

Lost times never return

to mend the ways of past mistakes.

Why! The future, raven-like,

selfish and brute in warmly sights,

where dreams bewilder

in nature’s spite.

Love, remote on strong delight,

reserves the right to deserving right.

Out of bad no good can come,

nay forever, not even tonight!



By the Sea


Oh glorious sun, growing old as the shade

of night approaches, you’ve built in this

heart of mine an eternal nostalgia...

a nostalgia evermore present whenever

I watch your fiery head slipping behind

the horizons of these Southern seas.

I want to sing to you then a lone

sentimental song of love, but yeah,

each time, you grow wise and leave me cold.

And my song still sleeping in my heart

warms my being with loneliness,

while there yonder, over the blue, love

transcends my loneliness too.

And love enters my heart so harmonious

and free that I feel it’s all for me:

then I want it to spread at large,

to stay for once with humanity,

together with nature, wedded eternally.

But then sunset breeds the night

and I stop feeling...and back to dreaming.



A Song of Peace


Oh lovers who have passed the summer days

step for once over time’s eternal print!

Relive again the bygone days when you,

seated by the winding river, listened to

the willow trees sing an eternal melodious

song of peace.

Feel the wonder of nature,

the greatness of man and his blessed state.

Love truth be it passing,

love justice for its own sake and, above all,

love the sky, your days and your dreams.

Don’t get old in your niche of time,

don’t blaspheme life and fate.

Be happy with your own lot,

but don’t forget to look for more

while forever singing

a melody of love,

a song of peace.



Portrait of Indifference


Iced moments of cruelty

mean revenge, loneliness.

An empty domain indeed!

Like a breath of cold,

deadly...a king cobra.

Ah! It hurts, it hurts...

No tears. Staring looks

only

in eyes that long have shared

knowing glances, smiles of tender joy.

Where once distance was no barrier,

now so close... an iron curtain.

No...in my heart there is still sorrow:

a twinkle of hope laying on the edge

of a sandy cliff.

Cruelty is no answer, no revenge...

there is my heart on a silver tray

ready to die a withered death...

by the hands of love... a cold fish.

Nay in Spring has love so melted.

Nay a petal has lost its right

to live, to grow, to shine with beauty.

Nay the skies have been so still,

so willing to swallow in its red vault

the warm stars of a once glittering heart

which no longer feels,

which no longer can love

a Venus of loneliness,

a portrait of indifference.



Surprise


Full of mirth my fair lover’s

smile enchants the moment with her

twinkling eyes...and her mouth...

oh... she is poking her tongue out!



My Woman


Listen my woman,

listen to the notes of love

in my sighs,

in my words.

It’s all a shouting

of anxieties, of emotions.

When I am together

with you, happiness.

You are mine,

like the sun takes the day

so you accompany me.

At work I feel your rays

that heat up my wings.

I feel the warmth of your body

whilst I spend my time

in different activities

that take me away from you.

I want you every moment,

you are close to me.

When I turn around… I feel

and I touch you in the emptiness.

I feel your smile

inside my smile,

your wet lips of love.

Your eyes that see me

between the walls of my world

far away from you.

I want you, my beauty.

You are here.

And when I shall see you,

oh no!

Love is finished.

I no longer live

without you.

Stay close to me, my love.

Stay close to me, my love.



The Willow Tree


That

misty

willow tree

still gives me

ecstasy

as I remember

the gentle

delicacy

of her loving

femininity.



An Embrace


The

warmest

embrace

can

sometimes

give

the

greatest

pleasure:

as if,

in the heat

of summer,

you were

kissing her

underneath

the coolness

of the giant

willow tree.



Saint Valentine


Valentine, Valentine

where are you, oh Valentine?

Deep in your heart

you will find me, your Valentine.

Valentine, Valentine

do you go away sometimes?

As time is eternal, you know

that I am and can only be your Valentine.

Is that why I feel good

inside me and am happy to be?

That’s the reason for loving,

for joy, for togetherness..for ourselves.

You know that in my life

you have been and are my Valentine!



Long live love, hurrah!


In my heart I feel tonight,

oh you who are listening,

this feeling

that I want to give you.

I’d like if all the world

would sing a song,

the one with you

to live with love.

I’d like to always dance,

to remain happy

for all my days,

to make my heart content...

Long live love, hurrah,

hurrah for the greatest love

of all those lovers

who sing thus...

Let’s drink, let’s drink together

let's hold hands,

Let’s dance the merry-go-round

always singing “love”

I’d like to sing with her

who has a golden voice.

I’d like to stay close to her

close to her with my heart.

Now we feel together

this our great love

for joy and happiness,

to die without pain...

Long live love, hurrah,

hurrah for the greatest love

of all those lovers

who sing thus...

Let’s drink, let’s drink together

let's hold hands,

Let’s dance the merry-go-round

always singing “love”

Long live love, hurrah,

hurrah for the greatest love!

Long live love, hurrah,

Long live my love.



LOVE AND MARRIAGE


Love doesn’t always end up in marriage… but

marriage is for many the natural port of a loving

relationship…

Marriage is where love brings its hope, its dreams,

its growth… where a home, a family is formed. Where

children, relatives, neighbours arrive. Where one grows

slowly, becomes older. Where love resides in the time

which we have on this earth.

Many times the love between two people is formed

early, or is formed a little late or it stops altogether.

Often marriage is not the place in which young love

finds its fertile ground. There are too many things in life

that can challenge the couple. It is important to strive

for mutual respect as well as maintaining one’s own

individuality.

When mutual love is present, everything is possible.

The couple very slowly becomes ‘one’, even with its

individual differences. In English they say: “Love and

marriage go together like a horse and carriage”, that is

love and marriage go well together.


In Australia I have worked as a Master of

Ceremonies at wedding festivities. When I used my two

languages, considerations on the couples that married

often came to mind. I saw many couples who loved

each other truly, and others who at times made you

think that perhaps that perhaps the matrimonial knot

may not have lasted. Often I heard from others that

things for one couple or another had gone contrary to

my expectations on the wedding day. The unexpected is

possible in the case of love and marriage.



On the Road to Marriage


When you meet your partner,

the one who was made for you,

you begin a new life in company.

Along the way your journey

can be a real winner

for you can plan ahead

whilst holding your hands.

You can hug in Winter

to make the cold pass by.

You can smile in Spring

and rejoice in the joys

that lie ahead of you.

You can share in the warmth

of Summer with all its sunshine.

Then in Autumn you can see

the fruits of your love,

of your shared company.

When you have chosen to walk

together within our humanity

then a married pair you will be!



I Love You


Then I saw

in the glitter

of your eyes

the love sparkle

of attraction.

All this time

we have spent

in mutual discovery.

We have found

in each other

a companion.

This is the reason

for my proposal

that we marry.

I believe in our promise

to love, to live, to share

all that we have

and all of ourselves

to each other.

Let there be no

greater bond than

to wake up each morning

and to say “I love you”:

to mean it each day

and every day of our life.



I Do


In our love

for each other

We have discovered

a mutual respect and understanding

that goes beyond

all else in life.

We have found

the seeds which

will grow in time.

They will bring

harmony and balance

for our respective needs.

We don’t have to be

the same individuals,

but we must compliment

ourselves in the course

of our daily living.

As partners, we owe

each other loyalty

and protection.

The bond which

we have sealed

is a beginning

in our path

for a life together

as a true couple.



Today we were married


We were made

to be together.

This I have known

from the first

moment we met.

There is no greater

emotion than the one

we feel for each other.

This natural bond

between us is stronger

than ourselves.

That’s why we have

sworn our life in

front of God today.

We raise our

thanks to him

with a deep felt

prayer for our

future together.

Let our world

be full of peace

and mutual respect.

Let there be

the natural extension

of our love

in the creation

of our family.



We are one!


You’re now mine

and I am truly yours.

We are one

We are married.

Behold our love!

Tonight we celebrate

Let’s give each other

love, care and a fair go.

We now walk together

into a new dawn.

This new day will bring

for each other a new beginning.

We want to live under

the one roof to share

each new day with love,

with affection and understanding.

We accept each other as

we are and pledge that

we shall work together

to make our lives better.

Tonight we are surrounded

by family and friends.

We have gathered here to share

our “first” meal as husband and wife.

We look ahead to our own

family luncheons in our home.

We share a new sense of freedom

together as one - we are one!

You are now mine

and I am truly yours.

We are married,

we are one.

Let’s give it a go

and be fair to each other:

behold our love,

tonight we celebrate!

We now walk

into a new dawn,

a new day: tonight

we celebrate our marriage

and a new beginning.

We are surrounded

by family and friends

We have gathered here

to share our meal together.

We perform this ceremony:

this long awaited day

with a new sense of freedom

together as one - we are one!



ITALO-AUSTRALIAN WEDDING


From when I arrived in Australia in 1963, I have often

experienced the celebration of an Italo-Australian

wedding. I have been invited, I have gone to Church, I

have been to the celebration party in some hall or

restaurant both in the city and in the country. I have also

worked in the kitchen as a chef’s assistant, then in the

reception room as a waiter or head waiter and finally I

have even worked as Master of Ceremonies for a quarter

of a century!

What I have liked the most from this positive weekend

experience has been the atmosphere that was created

before, during and after the day of celebration with

family members, relatives and friends. In my case even

with those people who worked for the guests to prepare

and then serve them dinner, to regulate the evening

following a well defined programme which has then not

changed much during all these years.

The formula of the Italo-Australian wedding is recognised

from the fact that the families with relatives and friends

celebrate the couple united in holy matrimony. They also

enjoy themselves with dinner, music, dance, the cutting of

the ribbon, and the cake, the toasts with the saying of

‘they are a jolly good couple’, and then the official

dance, be it the traditional waltz or a musical piece

chosen by the couple. There were also the telegrams, the

presentation of flowers and gifts to the best man and

matron of honour, groomsmen and bridesmaids, flower

girl and page boy and the parents. No-one is in fact left

out… or so it was

for a long time.. Now with the second and third

generations of the children of Italian immigrants we begin

to see a little more diverse approach. At times these

celebrations can be simple or extravagant, but the basic

principle of celebrating holy matrimony has remained.

For this reason I have wanted to include in this second

volume of Poetry My Friend something different but with

a typical spirit of our life here in Australia. The poetical

story of a car trip from the city of Melbourne to Swan Hill

a town in the north west State of Victoria

How many times the now dearly departed Joe Maggio, a

cordial and sociable personality, called me to be Master

of Ceremonies to so many couples who were getting

married. I’ll always remember with affection his welcome

and the very civil way in which he used to address

everyone. I also dedicate this poetic journey to my young

niece Maria Angerami who observed my writing in the

car during the trip, whilst her mum was half asleep and

her dad was driving.



Towards Swan Hill


Dad at the wheel

of the old Kingswood…

we pick up the uncle,

the ‘multi’ Australian.

The invitation to the wedding

takes us on the road

to Swan Hill.

Along the way

you can see the sheep,

the horse farms

and other farms.

In the background of the car,

sounds of Elton John.

The sun shines,

the roar of the air

caused by the speed,

a bread roll and coffee

under the eucalyptus tree:

life in movement.

Mum smiles with her eyes.

In the air of the Australian

landscape, the sun is shining…



The Driver


The too straight road,

boredom accompanies the driver…

and he anxiously runs, runs,

runs at his wheel!

He doesn’t know that

the movement hinders

my creation!

The road is long,

the magpie flies frightened

across the road.

The poet grumpily:

“drive at a hundred!”:

The driver goes

always more straight.

The foot accelerates

until it reaches 120.

Shhh…don’t interrupt.

All is calm…

The calm brings on sleep.

The driver with his mind

puts many of his cows there

in the meadow… he dreams

with his eyes wide open.

The sheep nibble at the grass,

there is no shepherd

but only thorny,

barbed wire fences.

The real Australia!

The sun shines…

water on the sides

of the straight road

speaks of night rain.

Towards the wedding we go

away from the polluted city.

The driver has become

aviator! We fly towards

Serpentine!

There, in the distance, a touch

of Australian scenery!

A group of trees

in the middle of the desolate

countryside!

All a game of eternity.

The man drives… tiredness

and boredom catch all

of them differently.

The driver comments:

“What a bird shit!”

The mother silently sleeps

behind her sunglasses.

Maria is half asleep

with a tiny wink of the eye

on the moving poem!

The writer makes

his pen walk…

The driver lights up another

cigarette… what an ugly vice!!

We go through a small town

but it quickly goes away.

The road opens in front of us

the extended plain of the Loddon valley.



The Mosquito


The other Thursday night,

in the middle of the deluge,

a pretty mosquito

was born under the ear

of a black sheep.

Skitty, the mosquito,

began his brief life

under a dark sky

and the weather full of clouds.

It was wet, this world,

for all of Friday.

The sun came out on Saturday,

but that mosquito, poor soul,

ended up on the window-screen

of the Kingswood with

a big ‘splash’.

What a swindle is life!



Stop


At Kerang a stop

under a gum tree

seated on a bench

with the thermos half full:

a small cup of coffee,

already sugared.

Necessary pause…

a little chat

then again the road.

Evidence of heavy rain

already past…

Drought is far away…

blue sky

with bunches of white clouds,

green extension, on the left.

A salt lake.

Now and then the shorn

white sheep confirm the already

well advanced springtime.



Reflection


Breath of fresh air

the humming of the speeding car

that breaks peace or solitude,

however you want to call it.

It’s a world

that makes you appreciate

the warmth of humanity.

Terra Australis

under the Southern Cross.

Refuge of migrants

of all nationalities!



Lake Boga


Here is Lake Boga

with its small boats.

It announces Swan Hill:

a railway bus

comes towards us.

Memory of the Pioneer Settlement.

The exiled small houses

in the middle of the vast green.

A moment of civilization!

Who knows whether it’ll last!



Motel


Here we are at Rio Vista.

We have arrived. Greetings.

Joe takes the cake.

The motel. Preparation.

For everyone, the church.

For me… the list,

the programme, the shower…

missing are the black socks,

the after shave lotion.

Background film

on the American fleet.

Foreign conflicts

to my moment.

Four oranges

and an apple.

I refuse the coffee…

there is a ‘furry friends’

on the small table…

the koala is looking at me.

I order from the menu

tomorrow’s breakfast.

They have arrived from the church…

Not yet…

I am waiting in the Flag Inn

of Jane Eliza.

The English names make

the memory

more alive,

more real.

It’s cool

but everything is in order.

I am ready. I wait.

Here we are! On time!



Reception Hall


Accompanied to Rio Vista.

Joe is not there. I wait.

I look at the preliminaries.

I am ready. Everything is in order.

They arrive: photographer,

video producers,

members of the band.

Tense, anxious moment.

Worrying, but calm.

The quiet before the party.

Here come the first guests.

The mother with the bottle

to heat up for the baby.

The man who asks for his place,

then more numerous the guests.

Good evening. Smiles. Cordiality.

Cocktail, signatures on the registry,

the inquiry for the table.

Confusion. First atmosphere.

The small error,

lack of communication,

the small requests,

they are all seated…

we are almost ready.

I organize the wedding party:

family members, best man

and matron of honour,

bridesmaids and groomsmen,

bride and groom,

flower girl and page boy.

I announce the entrance.

All upstanding.

Welcome to the guests

on behalf of the Padula

and the Attardo Families.

Enter the parents,

grandmothers,

brothers and sisters.

Here are the bride and groom.

Music for this occasion.

Ribbon to the page boy

and flower girl, scissors

to the bride and groom.

The Ave Maria,

video lights,

flash for the photos.

The cutting of the ribbon.

Best wishes. Choir of

“For they are a jolly

good couple”.

Toast.

Have a good meal.



The Dinner


Hors d’oeuvres already on the table.

Music entertains the evening.

Lasagna. Floor show by Sam.

Everything smooth. Service to the band.

Preparations for the first dance.

Streamers in hand. The wedding party

encircles the bride and groom

on the dance floor.

Lights, flashes, applauses.

I open the dance…go!

Have a good evening.



Happiness


Happiness is a state of being, of living, of the positive.

Humans and also animals, even the environment, the

community or the institutions can find themselves in a phase

of happiness. Feeling happy can last for a period of time. It

varies from situation to situation. We often find happiness in

our idealistic interpretation of the existence of facts that give

us hope for a better future.

Happiness is above all an exalting sentiment that makes us

feel light, that makes us appreciate how beautiful everything

that surrounds us is! Often happiness is born from love;

sometimes when we least expect it. It always brings

satisfaction, so much optimism, a great deal of peace. For

these reasons happiness is sought and recognized as one of

the most important factors in our existence.

‘Happiness’ idolises the birth of a child from a young

mother’s point of view. The miracle of birth brings to her a

delirious happiness. Whilst in this state, she expresses self

doubt about her ability to raise the baby; she hopes for a

good future and foresees the ultimate joy of one day

continuing her life through her creation.

“In prison with happiness”, explores the concept that we

can only derive happiness from security. In the case of the

canary, used to a monotonous life with her companion in a

cage, realizing freedom means a loss of security. When she

is made to return to her prison, the female canary reappraises

her own existence.

Most of the time, happiness has need of freedom, it brings

joy and pleasure, it makes whoever has it powerful. It seems

that fortune brings to the happy people only goodness and

well being, that their life is successful, that everything arrives

to them favourably. They are victorious and strong beings.

Happiness is not however lasting or exclusive. Therefore it

goes walking amongst men and women, old people and

children, even amongst canaries! In this, my collection of

reflections on happiness, you will find examples of who is

happy and in what circumstances. It’s not said that happiness

can be captured or retained by those who feel happy, in fact

it is so frivolous and changing that it is capable of

disappearing even before the happy person is aware of it!

Whoever wants to be happy can be happy. There is no

certainty about tomorrow and worrying too much about

mundane things doesn’t bring to anyone that daily possibility

of finding happiness, which in reality is always within reach.



Happiness


A bud gives me hope

because it represents happiness.

It’s like love being born,

a joy of Spring.

And you, my dear friend,

you’re a proud plant,

the mother of a flower.

That flower in Spring

is all of your life,

it is a part of your heart.

Its delicate petals illuminate

the blue sky with bursts of light

and warmth.

The world is proud,

the stars are enchanted

for this miracle of life.

The clouds disappear quickly

behind the horizon, because

a flower is born.

It’s born! Happy moment!

Spring bud! And it’s all

enveloped with motherly love.

“This love is mine”

shouts the mother to the wind.

“Thank you my God

thanks again.

I’ll do my best, I know.

Thank you divine angels

who, joyfully, sing

for my baby.

Thanks, Mother Earth.

He is so small! What shall I do?

He is mine, he is my baby!

What joy! What happiness!

My heart trembles

rich with joy!..

Once I too was so small!

But now I am a plant

which cries, which laughs

for love.

One day I shall see

this bud

open in Summer,

become a plant too.

And he will be someone else.

But I made him live,

I gave him life.”

It will be a happy day

when the stars will be no more,

when darkness, oh my friend,

will be yours... ours.

But happy will be that day

when you shall raise your eyes towards the sky

and, with a divine smile,

you will close your eyes satisfied

because your life will live again

and again...

And then the stars

will smile at you;

then you will know the secret,

the secret of life.

Fulfilled you will smile too

at the stars.

Tell them then that you left

your baby

down there amongst the plants,

the flowers, in a valley,

on the roads, in a house,

under a bridge of love.

Tell them that he is still

thinking of his mother,

and again she will be with everyone.



In prison with happiness


I have in my garden

two canaries in a cage.

One day the female canary

freed herself

but remained close to the cage

asking herself these questions:

“What shall I do now? Where shall I live

and with whom will I live?”

The male canary looked saddened

in the cage, alone, in his world now,

alone with his memories of happier times

whilst the female canary flew in the garden,

in the blue sky,

in freedom.

Finally tired the female canary

rested in the fresh grass

under the rays of the warm sun,

and thought of her companion in prison.

Then fell asleep.

A hand suddenly took her,

and she thought

“this is the end”,

but to her surprise, the hand - by force

brought her back into the cage.

The male canary jumped with joy

and caressed with renewed enthusiasm

his female friend, his lost love regained.

And so the female canary returned to her nest

and there in her prison

she happily stayed.



Rejoice!


Rejoice oh nature before evil done

for time of reckoning has come!

Rejoice oh you whose heart is fair

for wisdom and understanding are there!

Rejoice oh smile on the lips of whom

nature has taught good manners!

Rejoice! Rejoice forever oh heart of mine

amidst good and evil, in war and in peace!



The Wand of Happiness


Betrayed are the joyful dreams

of Spring as empty nights clouded

with dimly-lit stars. Like a hermit,

ever-wandering in the infinite,

happiness knocks in vain...

except in Spring...when

people care a little more.

Then again happiness wanders

away... and is shut in a cage

by time... just like that.

Happiness wants to stay,

but people send her away

cause people have become

slaves of convention,

prisoners by choice.

People don’t know that happiness

is in nature: the spring of joy.

Love is like a magic wand

that makes its miracles in the present.

Yesterday or tomorrow spoil the joy

of living the moment, of smelling the present.

No! I don’t want to leave the moment,

I want to know it better until tomorrow

when... who knows?

Chapter 2 - Poetry My Friend Vol.2

 NATURE AND THE SEASONS


Nature and the seasons have always been present in

my daily life. Be it in Italy or here in Melbourne,

Victoria. Nature and the seasons proceed together.

There are four seasons and, generally, vegetation grows

according to the season in which we all are. Even the

activities of our society are in line with the passing of

the seasons in each year. All our conditioning as

citizens of the country in which we live is developed

around this reality of nature.

But the seasons also represent for everyone the

chronological events of life. Spring is the beginning of

life, when everything begins to live, grow and flourish.

Summer is when people, living things become adult,

take their shape and way of being. Autumn represents

the harvest of our experiences and of our labours, when

we arrive to have and enjoy the many fruits of our

growth and life as adults. Finally Winter comes and the

trees lose their leaves, the fruits have been gathered, the

weather is more grey, nature gives itself a period of

rest… and sleeps. For humans this period is the last

stage of each year and of life itself, when the final

moment takes us away.

The poems that have fallen in this poetical chest are

the ones about nature, the ones about a particular type

of flower dear to me,that is the Rose, and finally on the

four seasons. I conclude this chapter of the second

volume of Poetry My Friend with two poems on the

damage to our life as human beings and to nature. We

are directly responsible for polluting our planet, while El

Nino is the effect of a particular phenomenon that exists

over the lands that are surrounded by the Pacific

Ocean... which is not always peaceful!

I am sure that I will find or I will write other poems

about this theme of nature and of the seasons... it’s a

theme for all time and for all of us. I hope that people

who live near the tropics and the polar regions will be

able to enjoy these ‘mediterranean’ poems … I hope so!



My seasons


I have cheered up

in the light of past days

in the middle of the din

of a Spring storm.

I have dived into the salt

water of a sea in Summer

when the sun with its rays

dominated the earth.

And I have tasted the Autumn fruit

hung from those trees with foliage

amidst the fresh smell of the leaves

in the dim light of an orchard.

Now I throw myself into the fresh snow

just fallen from the sky in this Winter

full of memories and of fantasy

in the warmth of my third age.

Every season has brought

its gifts, its smell,

its taste.



Seasons of Love


Oh my youthful dreams, so twisted and vain,

when attracted by the first faint wind

of Spring, so cold and thoughtless,

so inhuman in front of looks

in Love!

Inconscient dreams, like iron gloves

that slap the tired cheeks,

you are the ones who awaken the ardour,

that make us desperate

for Love!

Then joy turns upside down desperation,

it leaves on the ground the days of Winter,

it invites the warmth of Summer, in the light

of midday, when everything reveals

the beauty of living,

with Love!

When the gathering of a harmonious life arrives,

the altogether of the whole of the existence

of memories returns, to make us happy!

And it is so that we can savour the fruits

of Love!



The Four Seasons


I like all the seasons because each one of them gives us

something different and important.


Summer


Summer arrives like the culmination of a dream, of a

positive goal of our life. Everything is easy in the

Summers that behave well because even they,

sometimes, are capable of overdoing it and bring harm

and tragedies. In general we think of Summer with

affection and love because it is a period of holidays, of

festivities, of relaxation. When Summer arrives it’s as if

the most beautiful period of the year has arrived.

Summer is the culmination of many things, it is the adult

period of nature, that time of heat and of life, of long

days, of nights full of social life. All of nature is awake

and alive, the sea is particularly attractive, as are all of

the environments: mountains and hills, alpine and city

places, rivers and lakes, plains and countryside.


Autumn


Autumn brings us the fullness of so many fruits which

have arrived, ready to be gathered. Human life also

has these autumnal characteristics. After having lived as

adults to affirm ourselves in society, to have our things,

our very own family. This is the culminating moment of

our energy and of our activity. We have already

reached the beginnings of the third age, when we have

arrived at the height of what we can do.


Winter


Nature prepares to relax. We, human beings, begin to

retire in our own, to relax. We have had enough of a

year that has passed, of a life that has been lived. This

is the evening, the night, the Winter period when

everything is quiet and rests. Sometimes it’s also the

end. But it’s an end that is also fleeting because it

returns…


Spring


… and the cycle of another year, of another life. Human

beings know that after every cycle of life and death, the

will to continue raises its head again, to the reemergence of new experiences and new sensations

which the four seasons bring to us each year and in our

life.



Frosty Reality


The jewel frost in the morning’s glory sun

seems like a meadow of diamonds

scattered over the green of oncoming Spring.

A certain coolness, a strange sorrow

is overcoming the struggle to existence.

Unusually clear the day goes by slowly

as if eternity, for once, wishes to

imprint on this heart of mine

an awakening feeling of reality of truth.

Man is all the day represents:

a sensitive animal that rejoices with nature,

with the preen of the day.

No one is indifferent to the strange happiness

of the bush,

to the quiet peace found in the country

on such clear days. In the wilderness

of the city, a little bird is heard singing,

bitter melancholy pervades the air

that is so poignant with life.

The old dream of nature is dead:

there remains only the rattling life

of civilisation.



Spring


We see Spring in the air

appearing differently each year

amidst the grey of the atmosphere.

She emerges, awakes, dresses up

with vibrant, festive colours

and runs everywhere in the city...

She brings here her smile,

there her magic mantle.

She renews life to one and all.

She says unashamedly: “I’m beautiful”.

I bring you so many flowers, my green.

I allow love to be born again in you.

Fragile is her beauty.

Enjoy its fresh appeal

whilst it lasts...Wake up!



It’s Spring


Here comes the damsel

singing near the brook,

dressed festively

adorned with violets and primroses.

Now she is like a gracious ballerina

who dances lightly

on the green meadows of the earth.

With her magic touch

she invites everyone to her feast:

white and yellow daisies,

cherry trees tinted with pink petals,

sparrows and chaffinches,

coloured butterflies,

without counting all the insects.

It’s Spring.

Let’s form ourselves in a chorus

to celebrate the beautiful season.



Smell of Spring


The heat of the sun

that touches my face

makes me remember

her warm embrace.

The cold wet rain

and the deep grey of the sky

will make me remember always

her sad goodbye.

Do you remember when we spoke

of your poems of love,

of hot kisses and sad departures,

of deep sentiments

and so many changes?

You had love

and gave it to me.

And I left you…

and another arrived.

It was all a going and coming!

They were the first days

of Spring

and you, flowers, gave away

your scent!



Again, Spring


It’s again Spring.

You see and feel her

when you are walking in the park,

or in the countryside, at the beach,

or on the streets of the city.

It begins to colour the environment

with its buds of flowers,

of fruit trees,

with its bushes all shaking

in the fresh breeze that passes through

your skin and refreshes you.

And the bees begin their work.

The birds sing or shout

amidst the covers of the trees.

The insects begin to irritate.

The grass is tender and lucid,

the sky takes on another aspect,

more clear, more alive, more visible,

amidst the sun that shines and the white clouds,

the wind that is running, the rain that is falling,

at times the tempest, the hail and the storm.

A mixture of events a little crazy,

like a young immature person growing up,

between a scolding and a laugh,

between difficulties and happiness,

between the bad and the good…

in those days full of activities,

of so much energy among friends,

or so much reflection when alone.

It’s Spring: the beginning of new life!



Katie and David


There is Katie who is giving

the small pasta dinner

to David, her little one,

who is only five months old!

Where? Under the shadow of a marine

tree, on the small mound of sand.

And the people are enjoying the summer

nature whilst the sun whitens the blue sky

and the clouds. Scattered here and there, they

are making shadows to the sky up there.

Here are the seagulls which are coming

near the smell of the little one’s dinner,

always greedy and ready for a morsel,

to catch that little piece

even from the mouth of a baby!

Every being has its nature,

and nature provides for everyone…

whilst David is eating the pastina

under that marine tree,

which gives shade this morning

when mother provides

under the sun for her baby.



Rest


Waves crash

one by one

on a suburb’s

rocky coastline.

The scorching sun

drowns everything:

swallowing its rays avidly

are the people on the burning sand.

Rich are the humans

for they’re enjoying

a beautiful summer’s day.

Seabirds hover happily

over the resting crowd.

Minutes go by, as do the hours

for the child who’s happily diving

in the marine lake which he has created.

An old woman is also happy.

Solitude is not her lot:

she is under the sun

with all the people

and, whilst thinking of herself

as the little girl she knew,

she smiles at the future

once again.



Leave her in Freedom!


Amongst the green of the meadows,

in the summer of my youth,

in my native town, in Montemurro,

I always liked

the flying of the butterflies.

I remember vividly a morning in July

when a white butterfly stopped

on the the blackberry bush near the road.

An immense desire captured my innocent

soul to make mine that butterfly.

She flew up and down, leaf to leaf,

avoiding the bush’s thorns

with so much lightness, with delicacy.

And I circled that bush

hoping to imprison her, to make her mine.

I wanted to ask her the secret of her flying

and of her delicate abandonment in the fresh air.

She appeared to me like a messenger

that from leaf to leaf,

that from flower to flower,

she brings in an ephemeral

way the message of joy.

I pricked myself when I tried

to take her in my hand.



I Refresh Myself


Under the fresh boughs

with a fresh bough

I refresh myself.



Autumn leaves


In the Autumn air

I see the leaves

fall lightly

on the grass already wet

with drops from the sky.

You can see them in groups,

rustling over the extended meadows

of the city.

They get up, chase,

caress one another

and then, tired,

they gather around

the trunk of a defoliating elm tree.

And there, the leaves,

pushed by the wind,

try in vain

to return upwards,

to rejoin the branches,

up there, again...

The jarring of time

gathers even

the young leaves which

soon pale, become ashen

like leaves

benumbed by the cold.

The passersby crush them

indiscriminately

with different soles

whilst looking

upwards into the sky

at the bare

rigid branches.

And it is into the sky

that I direct my pupils,

my eyes, and fly...

whilst the Autumn leaves

fall, kissing the atoms

of the air, like an artist who

touches his hands to his lips

murmuring “thanks”

to the public as a sign of love.

And then the remaining leaves

fall suddenly

and stop over the meadows

full of tears.

But the wind gathers them up quickly

and takes them in a crazy walk

in unknown streets, in the grey morning.

And it is in a dream

that I see them all

in a chorus, faded,

in a continuous uproar

that rises from my poet’s heart

in a mysterious crescendo.

I remember the sweet smiles

of lovers under the trees,

the free flying birds in the air,

and that lost in vain dream

of leaves ravished by Autumn.



The Lemons


My wife

took care of

the lemons.

She gathered them

all in one scoop

at the beginning of October.

I gather them, lemons,

a few at a time.

They keep me company.

And we are already in

November and the lemon

trees have flowered again: they

are full of other green lemons.

And the plants are all perfumed.

The lemon trees need to be made

bare if they must again

dress up gloriously.



Sparrows


It’s a quiet morning.

The sky is grey and

the birds are festive

on this Winter’s day.

The peach tree is only

a shadow of its former self:-

a dead remainder

from its past Autumn glory.

Then this tree had

leaves, peaches, cover...

a welcome relief

for the occasional visitor...

who shared a cup of tea,

conversation, laughter with me.

Now the bare branches

disclaim life itself except

to give to those sparrows

in search of food and warmth

a resting place,

a few moments of calm,

a peaceful interlude.

These busy little sparrows

scattered over the gutter

and the bare branches

are eating bread...

bread put there

by my sometimes frustrating

children, whose show of kindness

rekindles in me the warmth

which a good deed brings.

Soon I will prune down

these branches. Out of necessity

I will perform this surgery.

But in the meantime

over the next few weeks

I will sometimes sit here

by the window sill

and again, these sparrows

will make me rejoice

in my shelter, in my family

whilst we both await for Spring.



Wind and Solitude


The wind blows mercilessly against

the window panes of my room -

a gust, with its violent passion,

thunders outside, in the street,

and shakes the leaves of my lemon tree.

Nature, in its totality, is unmoved.

But all its limbs shake with cold:

they tremble and fear the gusty wind.

Solitude, shaking like a leaf,

creeps through the bones of this human body.

But solitude is only a state of mind.

And the mind, like a gigantic oak tree,

overpowers the feeble human body

that shakes its flesh when nature’s

wind cares moving about for a blow.



The Cycle


Solitary road

under a dark sky

you look at the shadows

of an Autumn night.

The leaves fall quickly,

rigidly the branches extend

into eternity.

Only a leaf

continues to flutter,

but after a while it too

falls.

A passing ray of sunshine

caresses the yellow leaves

on the damp footpath,

whilst the wind

gathers them in a basket

and deposits them under a cypress

near the leaves

of other Summers.

Cold is the heart

of the crying tree:

it has lost its leaves,

it has lost its family.

The sad tree remembers Spring

and alone weeps for its fate

and the vanished Summer.

Then in the cold Winter

it sleeps in a deep sleep

with dreams of lost happiness.

In the grey misty sky

a dove.

Then a swallow.

Finally Spring.

Joy.



THE ROSES


There is something very special about roses. This is the

patrician amongst a great number of flowers. Roses come in

many colours, have a variety of textures, can be large and

small in size and, above all, they attract by their pleasant

fragrance.

A rose garden gives you a heightened experience of beauty.

However... you have to be careful... the rose bush is

dangerous for our human skin and flesh. Roses come at the

end of branches full of thorns. You can hurt yourself slightly

or severely. A rose almost objects to being picked or plucked

and yet its tenure of life is as momentary as life itself.

From a small compact cocooned bud springs a radiant

colourful, perfumed flower. A bunch of these roses are a rare

prize to be given on the most auspicious occasions.

As it matures, a rose loses all of its grip: its leaves are shed in

disarray. These almost ask you to use them as you wish. In

fact rose leaves are used at festive times, in perfume making

and even in cooking!

A rose is also a poet's natural ally when a simple analogy

with life is required. This is the reason why, over the years,

the rose has taken pride of place in some of my poems. i.e

"Una Rosa", "Rosamor", "Roseluv", "A lasting fragrance"!



A Bud


A bud gives me so much hope,

its opening up, so much joy

its spread so much pain!



A Rose


That rose

opened up

this morning.

It’s beauty

is in full bloom.

Its attractive

like a film star

at the height of her success.

It’s dazzling

when you see it.

I wanted

those red petals,

its perfection.

How stupid

I was yesterday!

I didn’t take her.

That rose

is already

faded,

finished.



Rose love


It was today. I picked a rose

amongst the many in my garden.

Strange... never have I killed one like this.

In my hand, between my fingers,

I caressed its sweetness,

the delicate petals,

the young tender thorns.

Everything still smiles of the divine

towards a radiant sky

full of swallows in flight.

Eternal beauty in my memories,

apex of earthly happiness,

moment chiselled in time.

I still love you, oh sweet Rose.



Rose luv


Withered is the rose I knew,

gone are the times I lived.

Memories are all that remain

to a heart that knew no bounds.

Love is only an illusion

that fades as time goes on:

deceived are the young in the game,

deceitful are the dreams of the past.



A lasting Fragrance


Whenever I sing a little tune

there, in the shadow, I see the light

of a beholder who’s all sunlight.

Like shadows, like sunlight

everything is passing,

everything is yesterday.

And yesterday, like a plucked rose,

still leaves in my nostrils

that perfect fragrance,

that perfect choice.

I know that even a perfect rose

will in time grow, wither and die.

But I don’t know whether one

should pluck the rose,

whether one should smell

nature’s lovely and perfect creation.

What right has man to smell at all?

Why should he crave for Spring

if nothing is eternal, nothing is true?

Yet we follow a path of roses...

we prick our hands, we smell them with joy.

Then tomorrow comes... it’s only yesterday.

But then I shall remember

that lonely and frightened rose

so delicate, tender and new...

so sweet, so warm, so true...

and nothing shall make me

want more,

nothing will

give me happier moments.

I’ll remember the times when I didn’t

know what to say,

when silence wept a few humble tears,

when silence, with its eternal say,

said all... and nothing left for me to say.

Yes, I remember now, I said something...

what was it? I don’t really know...

I know it was sincere, true.

Then time pricked my hand,

then it was time to go.



NATURE IN THE CITY


There are many instances when we take notice of the

effect of nature on man made surroundings.

In "Foglie Autunnali" we are especially aware of the

falling leaves. When they fall, how they fall, what

happens once they reach the ground. How do the

leaves themselves appear to react and how do we, as

humans, stand back as observers. Of course, there are

always people who do not seem to take much notice,

since they are too busy; people who look on this event

with indifference; people who can even make poetry out

of it!

Just like in "Una doccia in città" when, after a long, dry

spell, a shower comes to break the monotony of life. This

event brings with it a change of mood, for both the city

and the people who live in it. After this short, dry spell,

the all powerful sun returns to reign supreme once again.



A shower in the City


A city taking a shower

after a long suntan

is proud in its new robe.

Trickles running on footpaths,

drops disintegrating on tram-lines,

people breathing the cool air,

a little boy, his mouth open,

with his tongue catches the raindrops.

Nature’s miracle passes.

The city brightens again

under the piercing rays

of the celestial eternal power.



Multicoloured butterfly


Amidst the din of the traffic

and the confusion of the passersby,

the other day

I saw in the city

attached

to a luxury shop window

a multicoloured butterfly.



POLLUTION


The issue of individual and collective responsibility for our environment

is more topical today than it was twenty years ago when I wrote this

poem.

From 1971 to 1991 the problems of “pollution” have increased

dramatically. We have witnessed an escalation of our inability to

contain those activities which have damaged and are damaging our

natural “environment”.

“L’inquinamento” is essentially a pessimistic poem. It offers no

solutions. Nor can there be when reality tells us that we are unable

to rise above ourselves. Or, at least, that’s the opinion of the soul of

a young man who picks the chords of his guitar, whilst remembering

the world as it was before it blew up.

Even though many of the images which I describe in this poem which

I wrote in 1971 ie stagnating rivers, birds and fish in oil spills,

endangered species have flashed onto our television screens, I feel

somewhat different today. I have become more of an optimist. I

believe that not only we can but we must assume the responsibility of

becoming caretakers of our planet.

Our living creatures need to be protected in their environments. The

type of civilizations which we have are possible in a sustainable

ecological reality. We need to achieve a balance between our needs

and that of nature. We need to learn to mend our mistakes. The world

has the ability to renew itself - so there is room for making some

mistakes...as long as these are not so great...

Written 1991

...And this “issue” does not go away... for today Sunday 2nd of

March 2008... We are gathered here to see what is happening at the

Federal, State and Local levels of Government in favour of “The

Environment and Climate Change.”

Addition 2nd March, 2008



Pollution


(i)

Ten one hundred years have passed

from the time when God forced me

to be in the company of eternity.

When I now think of earthly things

I become nostalgic about life

which has lost all its youth.

Now Earth is no more

the seas have all gone.

There is only this afflicted musician

who picks the chords of his guitar.

(ii)

The grass of the green meadows dries up,

the water of the dying rivers is stagnating,

dirty is the shore under the beach umbrellas.

A fish comes up for a mouthful of air

but finds only a chemical salad

that private inertia has poisoned.

A seagull sits on the waves

that stink of petrol and dead fish.

The world has stopped with a swoon

that is a result of the surrounding stench.

(iii)

A little bird sick with fever

loses its plumage and also its hope.

There is no longer the limpid spring,

the murmuring river, the resplendent lake.

There is only a mist that fills the temples

of the tired thinking animal,

who cries over his foolishness

remembering those passed days

when he was awakened by the swallows

in the Springs of bygone days.

(iv)

Silently a brook putrefies

under a branch deprived of leaves

and shouts with a mute voice,

at the inhuman end of its lost gaiety.

A fragile boat languidly weeps

the days, alas!, already gone forever

of the genuine happiness of lovers

at the blossoming of nature.

There is no more the voice of love

that rocks the waves of its heart.

(v)

Dead are all the people

who caused the world to stink!

Rotten are the lost souls

in lakes covered with excrement.

A torpour invades the air of once

in forests skeletoned by people.

Disappeared are the terrestrial beasts

from the cycle of life on Earth.

The infinite is dead, the skies have disappeared,

the stars are so dark in the night.

(vi)

The great Scythe1 no longer severs

over the vast sea of youth.

God has told me that she is dead and buried

under the ocean that is no longer there.

The old swagger invokes her no more for it is

one thousand years that she hasn’t been seen.

One does no longer war, no longer fight,

no longer live, no longer love

in the world that once was so famous

doing these and a thousand other things.

(vii)

Unfolded now in the infinite are the souls

of the gloomy race of cowardice.

Desperate under a sombre mantle

they strike each other frenziedly

for not having punished in time laziness

that has made a massacre of civilization.

They think of the time of reality

when they used to say to each other

I don’t care if the closed in animal is becoming

mad and does not know where to go.”

(viii)

Let’s get rid of the boresome flies;

away, away with the poisonous snake!

Let’s make a soup with the sad dove

while the canary is put into prison.

One goes to the lake to fish for rabbits

which are no longer to be seen around.

A little at a time all these small animals

disappear from sight without escape

while man who can no longer hunt

blasphemes his damned avarice.

(ix)

On the clear current of the river

of the white capped mountains, no longer

runs the smell of the jovial Winter freshness

for the little bird has stopped singing.

The day, the night, and the seasons

are no longer there, poor creatures,

for the hours have stopped in eternity

with the weather that has stopped changing.

Now the vanished humanity remembers only the

beautiful things that rich and poor enjoyed without care.

(x)

There is an illusion there in the dark sky

of a man, whose smile without compare,

sees the coming of the end of humanity

forced to no longer laugh and play.

The writers of my youth weep over

the hours of contempt because

their works are no longer needed

in a country where they no longer read.

The Earth in fact has suffered a storm

before blowing out of the window.



El Nino


This Boy Child with a Spanish name,

El Nino they call him far and wide,

brings in headlines like a superstar

when it leaves its shores with ill intent.

Is he a friend or is he a foe?

Why is nature afraid of this little child

who wants to roam the ocean,

fly with the wind, cry with the rain?

All creatures great and small wonder

if next year El Nino will arrive!

Will he again cause havoc and turmoil?

Why does he have to come at all?

This bad boy who lives in the Pacific

wakes up regularly from his deep sleep

and rides the waves, shifts the currents,

rules the air, unplugs our ecosystems!

He whips up tempests, storms and hurricanes,

overturns ships and boats, uproots trees and harvests,

pokes his tongue at humanity with pranks

and rebel ways like a naughty, ugly adolescent.

But our El Nino can’t concentrate for long,

he suddenly stops his destruction and moves on!

Bewildered is whoever he visited, relieved amidst

the sunshine in the peace of a fresh new day!

Written 1997

Chapter 3 - Poetry My Friend Vol.2

SENTIMENTS AND LIFE


Human life is characterized by the sentiments that each

person feels. There are sentiments of the heart, of the mind and

reason; there are also those sentiments that are generated from

our opinions. We find that a person’s sentiments about a whole

variety of feelings will determine the type of life that we end up

living.

To be aware of one’s sentiments is very important… more

importantly it is to understand that the type of sentiments that

we hold within can make a huge difference to ourselves and all

those who live close to us.

Sentiments of love, care, genuine kindness, charity,

sincerity, honesty, empathy can bring us much happiness

through cooperation with others, by the generosity of spirit that

we demonstrate in times of difficulty or plain ordinary living.

Sentiments of dislike, of malevolence, of revenge can lead

to bickering, fighting, war. Sentiments are also present within

our varying states of guilt, bad temperament, violent leanings…

these can be very destructive on an individual person or be the

result of very precarious and nasty situations.

Beware your sentiments! They are the basis for our

communion with our inner self and others.



Sincerity


Sincerity, oh my brothers,

is seen from far away even by the blind,

who although their eyes

see none other but the shadows,

their awakened spirit

feels the warmth of the good

who sincerely speak to them

of what they see and hear.

In fact sincerity is blind:

it does not look in the eyes of its owner

but to the stars with submission.

Why shouldn’t man reveal

the truths which seem good to him?

Why should we hide what we see

when God, in His greatness,

has cleared darkness with the sun?

What is man if not a part of creation

amongst all else which is so well put together?

Why should man assume

that role which doesn't rightfully belong to him?

Let us, oh my brothers, leave universal justice

in the hands of the Lord.

Let us try only not to bring

damage to our neighbour, who also

wants to see things as God made them.



Searching for Joy


Joy in life

comes from the love

that you feel inside…

if you love others,

respect yourself,

care for the environment,

smile at the future,

laugh often together with

those who are close to you,

approach work

with pleasure and dignity.

You will have frank joy

if you think of the good,

fully aware

of the existence of evil.

Then you will remain an optimist;

you will want to contribute to the world

even knowing that your contribution

could appear to be of little importance.

We, humans, are made like this:

of flesh and bones,

of a material body

with spiritual pretensions

and illusions of immortality.

We are here for a short time

until death arrives

and takes us away… or perhaps

we return where we were.

Or, maybe, surely…

I don’t know… where!

In the meantime, I want to feel

the joy of all that

surrounds me, share it with one

who is my true friend!



Joy


Joy is a flower

at the beginning

of its walk

towards life.

You can have it

in every time

if your spirit

remains clean

and doesn’t tire

of the material things

of this our life!



Self Confidence


When you feel

sure of yourself

you ooze confidence.

You carry an aura

of “can do” around you.

You keep your thoughts

simple and to the point.

You know who you are

and what you must do.

Your inner soul mirrors

your feelings and opinions

into an outward show.

You’re like the rich

who know their power

and are not too

humble to use it!

Confidence builds up an image

of your worth in society.

Just a word about

the breakability of confidence.

Your worth has to match

your actions, deeds and promises.

Confidence can be an indulgence.

Therefore, keep it within your reach

and build around it a wall

of optimism and boundless energy.

Confidence needs dreams

like the grass needs water,

like a car that needs energy,

like a child who needs self-esteem.

In your “lows” in life

don’t allow anything to mar

the power of your most potent arm:

self-confidence.

Confidence is not arrogance.

It is an inner glow that shines

outwardly in everything you do.



Empathy


When there is empathy

you don’t go away!

You remain there in place

truly self assured!

You feel good inside

even when you are not well!

You acquire the incisive eye

of someone who is really tough!

You speak and act as the owner

even if you are a nobody!

What you say is well said

and what you do is well done!

You don’t feel any rancour

‘cause nothing bad can happen to you!

It’s not a mistake if you have

in your company this wonderful empathy!



Antipathy


The source of your discord

is all the fault of antipathy!

It invades everything

in all that you do, every day!

Everyone wants you far away

even when you are very good!

You keep your place amongst

those people only by betrayal!

You go around like a leper,

you are really to be pitied!

Happiness cannot be yours...

you have not known true kindness!

They avoid your company

as a result of your antipathy!


Blaming it on someone

Attack, attack...never

let the peace surround you!

You must shout and snarl

you need someone to beat.

Your ego needs no rest,

so fight...even in your rest!

Don’t be happy with what

you’ve got. Why feel happy

in your cot?

You’re scared

you don’t want to find

what is causing

this war in you!

Those around suffer

if they happen to care for you!

So why not spare the pain...

Ah! It would be too easy

for everyone... but you!



Indulgence


All that you want

to eat and you do.

You test your stomach

and the workings of your body.

You inflate and watch in

amazement: “How could it be?”

It takes only a few minutes

to suffer the lack of will power...

it’s no success!!

Then you pay the price

with clothes that are too small,

you look like an overgrown you

in T-shirts and shorts that

have a “whole” appeal.

Your looks have changed

along with your fitness...

You’re determined to sort it out

choosing the “right” food

and then eating time comes again...

you socialise, feast and party

at every turn... there is a commemoration

or a birthday or a family reunion!!

How can you overcome

your acknowledged weaknesses!

It’s a desperate contradiction

that you want to eat less

whilst in war torn countries

someone dreams about your excess!!



Anorexia - Stress


Stretch your abilities,

overdo your activities!

Increase the tension,

keep up your excesses...

Bottle it all up...

without even a good laugh!

Don’t take it natural...

It’s not cool to be easy!

You show your worth

without letting up!

You must succeed

in spite of your fatigue!

Get yourself uptight

over every little detail!

Everything is important,

don’t let anyone think!

Go, go, go... attack, attack,

order, command, criticise!

No one can do right. It must be

perfect... just like you!



Impotent Pride


The blood of man is a viper

that poisons the world.

Weak, egotistical, unfortunate,

he becomes great in his smallness.

He wants to impose himself over all things

which are stronger than him.

He wants to conquer other things

with his iron hand.

But time makes him feeble,

makes him become useless, old.

Impotent, man rebels.

In the meantime nature,

with its eternal hand,

changes things and men.

To replace them with others

who want to also live.

The same cycle closes itself.

Then, faster, it continues in the infinite.

Life, the eternal conqueror,

becomes conquered everyday,

forever.



Vanity...let’s you die


How beautiful is vanity!

It makes you feel attractive and good.

One can see that you are a god

who looks and admires himself,

who doesn’t feel irregularities,

where every thing is acceptable.

Vanity doesn’t allow

errors and omissions,

but rejoices in front

of your reflection.

Vanity is not blind,

but only lets you admire

things that appear to be good,

even if they are in fact not!

When we say vanity,

we think of Narcissus

who refused the nymph Echo,

falling in love

with his own image

reflected on the clear water

of a clear brook.

For this reason he died

and was transformed

in perfumed flower.

So also is vanity,

which is reflected in you…

and let’s you die,

allowing you to rock

in the perfume of your own ego.



Adoration of the fridge


He was young. He was hungry.

He needed sustenance daily.

He loved to interrupt his

normal routine almost hourly.

He came to open the fridge

searching for ready to eat food:

leftovers, cutlets and vegies,

fruit, sweets and ice cream.

He ate whatever fell in his grip.

He developed the reputation

of being a bottomless pit:

all that was good and tasty

ended up in his stomach.

He wasn’t at all fat... he was

like a skinny she-wolf in search

of satisfying her hunger.

What was the result of this

constant bow in front of the fridge?

His poor parents were desperate...

they were being eaten out of house

and home. How could they discipline

him to appreciate the cold storage

without that intense conviction

in his miserly eyes? What were

they to do with his longing for food?

They called on doctors and dietitians,

visited health clinics and fitness centres

and, finally, they were told clearly

that at his age food is a religion.

The fridge is an altar of worship,

praise and adoration. That’s it!

Amen



Your Body


The body that you have

keeps your company,

so make it your friend

even more than your family!

It’s hard to keep it in shape

if you give it no time to eat,

or if you neglect fitness and rest!

A body needs someone to make it

as healthy as it can be.

There is only you within it

so it is your property!

You need to make it

like a calling card

that’s simply attractive

in its own individuality!

So give it the very best

within, without or wherever.

This is a true test: don’t

keep it too much abreast!



1971


Like so many swallows in the air, my years

touch the comets of the banks of the blue sky.

Having amongst other things spent 1971

with so much joy and with such frank company

that it seems to me that God has wanted to bless

the most beautiful years of my life!

And so many good words have been said,

and many and even more beautiful ones

already forgotten. I have tried in company

peace, order and harmony. And I found

in humanity love that transcends reality.

Human are the errors, the tears, grief, vainglory

and the mute war: but there is always so much

pleasure to see harmony in the company.

There is happiness, passing yes… it’s true…

but so beautiful are those already far

away moments, and those youthful dreams

that renew themselves with each Spring.

I have seen in the heart of human beings

a great and well hidden desire to be well liked…

and every person so different from his friends

has always in himself a sparkle of love.

Now you tell me that there is misunderstanding…

yes certainly… and yet, with the most absolute

patience, we can always arrive, with the so many

thorns, to understand a little the human truth.

One dies yes without having wanted it,

but between us my friends

there is a more absolute truth.

There is the nude instinct, which, like a beast

in its natural ground, leads

the person to his own self interest.

And there is the mind which, unfortunately

always more, guides man to automation.

Between the two I cannot choose,

but I think always with satisfaction

that with a personal education

we can arrive to spiritual civilization.

Education you don’t receive

from the preachers, who amongst other things

have their own saviour, but

from ourselves, in our own reality!



A Contribution


As you wave your hand

to youth, you feel inside

a mixture of sadness and joy.

To know that your time

is passing by, like the wind

on the sand in the desert,

is to realize your human

condition: a wink in eternity.

To appreciate the value

of your passage through time,

like pink blossoms on a cherry tree

in Spring, is to leave behind for

others a happy memory to cherish.

No matter how small,

the sum of it all makes up

your life, your dreams...

be thankful for your contribution.



Dreams


The dream you left behind

feels like a friend in need.

Neglected and contrite

it wants someone to feed.

A dream is a special something

that’s generous and untried

like a loyal companion who

wants your car to drive.

A dream rests in your mind

until it finds a place within you.

You must make it satisfied or it will

upset your happiness inside you.

When you make it share your path,

a dream follows its own real distance...

that’s right... up to the finish... and

then it leaves you... in front!

To know that dreams are like the flowers

in your cups of excellent wine... to savour

each one and assess their worth is to shape

all other dreams ahead of you.

That dream is done and another begins...

to await for them one by one by one...

Ah! Then you’re wise... so you realize

that there are plenty of dreams to come...!



Deflating a Dream


You had a dream

and now that it is here,

it’s a tired old activity...

You want some change.

Why don’t you take

your time and plan

a cruise or two...

Sell up everything

and do what you

wish to do!

Give yourself some elasticity.

Nobody can stop these events

if you are content!

Get rid of the chains

that bind you...be free

to party and dance!

You can even get away

to read until you sleep.

Let no one stop you,

not even you, you or you!



Tall Poppy


Your seed was made

of a tough hue.

You were born to ooze

confidence and strength.

You were a little rough

and success followed

your every failure.

You rode on a long

stretched road which

had its ups and downs.

Many admired and followed

your path giving you

resources and trust.

You soared high and you flew

the flight of a majestic eagle.

You became the symbol

of your time, having reached

the pinnacle from which

there was no other way

but the chasm at the bottom.

You came down like a man and this...

one must admire.

You stood there amongst all

who had known you. They said:

“Bond is in jail,

he deserves what he gets!”

Yesterday’s hero

has been felled down like

a tall poppy in the fields.

I was never your admirer

in success, but now that

you’re down, I condemn

those who so readily exhalted you,

who so willingly brought you down.

They are the victims of their own

weaknesses and in you they reflect

their faults... just like in you

they tried to be one with your success.

All this balances out but,

what a pity, I say

to kill the memory of a dream,

and the dream of a well earned memory!

It wasn’t all in vain,

oh Alan Bond!



Friends


We are friends...

therefore we share

our days, out thoughts,

our inner hopes.

We keep company

because we communicate

with each other

free from inhibitions.

Thus we build our trust

day by day.

But we need space,

oh friend, to be ourselves.

We are friends...

therefore we should be able

to drift away

for a while to explore

the world outside...

to find that friendship

is a precious possession.

We leave each other

when either of us

decides that we want

to move on... perhaps

to make another friend.

Friendship is as common

as the grass and as rare

as a Winter’s orchid.

We can never forget

a friend even when

we drift

apart.



Friend to Friend


Don’t judge me

but lend me your hand.

Let’s give each other

support and confidence.

Don’t put me down because

you know me so well!

Value in me what

attracted you to me!



The Future


There, ahead,

in front of us,

immersed in its anonymity

lies the future.

It’s a mass of moments

to be conquered, to be lived.

Its presence is ephemeral

because, as soon as it is amongst us,

it mixes itself up with the present

and then it disappears in the lap

of Mother History.

The future has of everything

and it is logical and unpredictable.



I am still Hoping


The dark hours run away with time

whilst the storm quietens on the sea.

Even the little bird has stopped flying,

and now, happy to dream, he looks for his nest

thinking of the betrayed little bird of his dreams.

Oh you, traitor day in the past

become a traitor once again

to betray the betrayed moment

and bring back to the present the ancient illusion!

It’s sweet the Spring of dreams,

they are beautiful the hopes of once.

But now are faded the memories

of this swallow that in vain

still aims for the high of the sky!



Unwanted


Why is everything so strange?

Why is there oblivion?

No one can supply the truth of life.

No one can say: “I was wanted.”

We might be a world of rejects

struggling against the existence

of change, of degeneration.



A freelance... authority


A freelance touch of fantasy

with some common sense as its authority

judges the rest as stupidity.

Correct to a degree,

it can lead most into degeneracy

if not held in reality.

But when maturity understands

the truth of reality, then

a freelance touch of fantasy

has common sense as its authority.



Organised intrusion


Dreams go back to nature

when people’s only obsession

rests in material possession.

A shameless world of intrusion

in individuals’ private seclusion.

No secrets left,

no love at rest.

Only an empty domain

of power unreal to man.

His own creation,

his beloved fashion.

His longing of power achieved,

his nature lost in convention.

No more the happy days

in privacy… in rest.



Power of the Present


Smiling at the infinite world, man

searches in the heart of other people

for the love of games in company.

Forget always the so fleeting and

so beautiful future, and live

joyously this present happy life!

There is no sailor who ploughs the waves

who would not want to return to his own place

from where he sailed with so much hope.

The ugly witch, with her fingers wide open

on the crystal, looks in the future for the present

and then changes the present for the happy people.

Human things are forever changing, but the known

change crushes the joys of the unknown.

Therefore, dissatisfied of this beautiful world,

dream of the things that the future for us

foreshadows and always remember the words

that on the tomb of the present I inscribe:

“By all means dream of the fleeting

Future, but always love in our heart

the eternal power of the present.”



A Cat


In the deserted street,

a lone cat

meows.

He feels a deluge

in the stuffy air.

He doesn’t look for a roof:

he waits for the coming

of thunder, of lightning,

of rain.

Experience tells him:

go, run to your shelter.

But this feline philosopher

doesn’t care:

he is not afraid

of nature.

Sure of himself,

he walks head high

alone in the night.



The Football


I can’t explain

why football is so

much loved.

Perhaps it is because

you catch it with your hands,

you throw it up into the air,

it returns to you again

and then you give it

a kick up the rear.

Just like man does

with his friend.



Understanding oneself


It’s great the joy

in understanding oneself.

To see around

the continuous shaking

of life pulsating

in days of sunshine.

To know that to be

means to want to adapt

to the environment in

which one finds oneself.

Like ants who live

around the anthill,

nest of variety

full of monotonous

daily work.

But so welcoming

because there is the mount,

the neighbourhood, home!

There you will find gossip,

company, security!

True life comes from

understanding oneself.

Lucky is the person who succeeds!



Important Atom

Written 04-03-2008


There is in me

another poem

on things

that happen

whilst I am trying

to plan

others that will come!

So expressed himself

that famous ‘Beatle’

after having visited

India and its philosophies!

Because life

is an accumulation of events,

of period of relaxation,

of so many varied things

that exist outside

of yourself, whilst you

concentrate your efforts

at understanding what presents

itself in your daily life.

You are a complex atom

in the midst of the Universe

in which you are no more

than another infinitesimal

fragment. But you

are important. Believe it!



Reality


Love is the only word

that the heart of man

listens to with pleasure.

And when things are going well,

everything is acceptable.

Then even the ugly things of life

take on dimensions that are eternal,

infinite, more than the infinity of heaven.

I can’t but explain the roses

which, from time to time, prick

the soft material of the gracious

hands which caress them.

I would like to still feel in me

that youthful sentiment

which rarely embittered my hours

of enthusiasm, of vanity, of deceit.

Sad is for me the man

who tires at understanding life.



History: I am sorry


To rejoice

in the coming of others

who have destroyed

your culture

is to love

your neighbour.