Amid Stars

Call of beauty only remote,
a street number, old note,
I hold, prime drops of rain,
like teary stains to remain.

Lines of solitude and verse,
Autumn raindrops, disperse;
with decreasing light tangle;
with my voice, dusk-wrangle;

So it was you in my dreams,
to shine in ethereal streams,
we became two distant stars,
that blink behind minds bars.

I adored your singing voice,
melody of my utopian rejoice,
Two carved betrothal rings,
worn one day of our Springs.

[...] Read more

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Gray birds

In rain walking, same memories I embellish
the Northern cold's recounts close beckon
a harbourless wandering in lands to reckon
faithful folds my ensign of love and cherish.

Some gray birds sitting on the wires stare,
our images recall to pass, and in the mizzle,
numb feel and wet, dull in aloneness fizzle,
lost, wet birds inside the rain, on lonely fair.

They disperse inside the mists, shed tears,
descending fog comprises, soul's ambition,
in fog's dusk outspreads my half-lit volition,
gray birds on wires, stare in rain for years.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Thyme and Myrrh

During these days, she will call,
like years ago my scope to feel,
mizzle invitations in songs spiel,
and keep us in the rains of Fall.

And it will be a time to hold her,
embrace her soul in ocean mists,
and she will admonish our feasts,
my solitude of thyme and myrrh.

In ethers where Bells ring Holy,
Sunday morns our pictures flied,
dew drops on white blooms pied,
as my timed rhapsody run slowly.

In time she comes, to be blithe,
construct reality out of dreams,
noon sun light in ether will beam,
my retention of her figure lithe.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Wraith I

A call of the gust speaks a thousand words
passing amid the weeping cries of Cedars,
bears up souls in woods, lost nightly hordes,
amounting solitude, of Pine needle guitars;

Denoting calls in the breeze, a Black Alder,
designing spirals of airy spells, around Fir,
a Wraith whirls in twilit dance; sky's border,
were we subdued in lightless and void glare?

A Wraith whirls in twilit grayness, to faraway,
beckons above Oaks Shingle, her dusky wing,
our souls in woods, ghosts of a dour Sunday,
dwell in Cedars; call of a cold gust and sting.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Trails

Falling soft rain, a meter of late,
for you my solitude waited in vain,
soldier of emptiness, and of fate,
beat of timing, my song's refrain.

Ghosts, visitors of previous lives,
our past images upon the trails,
as shadows show in byway drives,
their companionship never fails.

The shadows elongate on slopes,
and sun to west horizons deigns,
on our elliptic orbits an' scopes,
and on this vast scenery reigns.

Shadows surpass, close to fade,
comely is this rejoice of mauve,
upon the slope's night serenade,
scenery flows to a darkish suave.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Arborea Blooms

Amid bloomed white arboreas,
the twirping cardinal elates,
the foliage play while altheas,
adorn his song of cloudless fair,
the silver stream flowing relates,
upon same route and obligates
abyss to quaff tweedled ideas,
while blooms in light will oscillate.

The forest -look- embraces all,
white flow'rs that roil in ether's haze,
the randomness of light's befall,
air's blooms adorn this lavish ball,
clothe foliage's infinitely grace,
nuptial embroidery, white lace,
while streams flow to abyss' odd call
blooms celebrate air's nymphal phase.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Daisies bloom

Above the effloresce and greens,
baptize the reasons of a brave,
he opens ravishing air wings,
as to engage a cold that stings,
Angelic and betrothal rings,
conceived upon his earthy grave,
Above the effloresce and greens,
baptize the reasons of a brave.

Above the land the daisies bloom,
and poppies dance in morning light,
Air Nymphs will meet a stalwart groom,
rain flows and purls inside the flume,
that coltish roils towards sea fume,
the tears of souls begone in fight,
Above the land the daisies bloom,
and poppies dance in morning light.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Chi dirige I concerti?

For how many years I have directed concerts
of insight, ideal, of a sleep that kindly applies,
a white sun awakes in an even music concept,
shadow of myself to wonder on my soul's incise?

A memory stream, an odd decoy is convening,
invites a one-dimensional call of my destiny,
an allusion the falls cloudy drops ascending,
a forced stream simmers, my blood flows veiny.

A monody morning awakens the cypress trees,
my village that has no inhabitants to gather,
without smoke the hearths, of distant bliss,
the foliage dithers as my concerts tunes alter..

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Become the Rain

Above the tree tops fly in clouds
angelic forms that meet the winds,
salute the mistral and the crowds,
above the solitude that bounds,
red green their dreams amid the fields,
thunderous call engage and wields,
abstemious souls embrace the sounds,
become the rain on steadfast keeled.

And some remind you of your past,
when flower scents descend the years,
when you were running ever fast,
the time was burden, and contrast,
to overreach in fog your tears,
abolished shields - hazardous fears,
theatric group of absent cast,
embracing dead the chevaliers.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Harmonica

Spirits come stern to foreshadow
our route westward onto Atlantic,
nautilus believe in ancient mantic,
and sudden port sentiments endow.

My ancestors were natural sailors,
serving the same cause for years,
worldwide route as funeral tears,
sable wives shed to ocean bailors.

Grim engagement describes a spell,
that haunts island men since birth;
sea engulfs them, an owing dearth,
of morose depths in mournful well.

Sailors stand upon the stern deck,
as dusk turns colors to hazy gray,
with a harmonica on a wistful play,
tearing the long shadows an' beck.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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