And the sky bright blue...
And the sky bright blue,
white clouds paint the empty spaces
where the thick wall, delimited
the transition overhead of the fig trees.
Palms begging the white Colour
And all, too quiet,
the breeze savours the summer heat.
I spent sleepless nights,
refreshes skin sweat heavily
wetting between the sheets
that were complaining.
And every morning, at sunrise,
spectacular as a Carriage, the horizon is approaching
carrying the heat pain.
poem by Luca Menin
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Ghost's Parade
Tower of bricks and dark arches shadow,
empty square - ghost's fair
Murmurs, of licking dogs,
chatting at the table floor,
The sunrise silence, at the wind blowing knitter,
at the crows, picking litters.
Shivering doors, keeping warm
chimney chug, roofs of broken tile's
perfume of musk in the air.
Fun fair screams of leaf's blow by wind.
Parade, of charioteers and reins
At the whinny of a forlorn carousel
Horse of trumpets, and ridden drums
poem by Luca Menin
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Dorotea
Pure and rose her libs smile,
her kiss's test of rare spices.
Silk vest, adorn her breasts,
where every puckish man dream to rest.
She is free like the wind,
like a butterfly journey, like bees making honey,
At the hills where she grow up and play.
Where her dreams are laughing all day.
At the sun shine, like a beautiful swine,
That bowed his head, with grace and shy.
Her eyes enchanted, is where her soul guise.
The Purity and beauty of life
poem by Luca Menin
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Hey Just Look...
Hey, just look.
I will show you how.
Starting from the space,
in this order, acquisitions, demolitions
Behind mans, with footsteps inside their heads.
Crawling to the end of time
Alice scream, falling down the deep hole
Rolling like little drops,
through the clouds riding away
Running flash, like a bullet slow crossing the town
The place; a Shooting star, pieces, carry by a carriage through gipsy hills.
Get me a woman, with a tale to spare, spells
poem by Luca Menin
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Tellers
Orange eyes of owl treasure, observe the night.
Seahorses pulling ships and pirates' sharks.
In my head like a sponge bath.
Absorbing mountain high views.
A barn on the farm, hunt by dark harms.
Salute the brave hero who sly the dragon.
With his sword of mirrors.
Protrude library books
Hold by shells of words
Dolls Cupboard,
White rabbit adores...
Silent miracle of everyday moments
Of light, made of cones, illuminate.
Curtains, of magic travellers, &
Escutcheon of framed tellers.
poem by Luca Menin
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News
Hide reflection
My reflection, on the wind shake
Colour of green tree emotions
in camera motions
No other ways that I can hide.
Camouflage,
in my morning trip, of a news papers gray train
Marker of red Colour, star blood
Something is not right.
People fight
Been light
Monkey killer, power wheeler
Sometime I think. Of mirrors steams.
Where I cannot see.
However, I m behind
My true face, alive
My conscience of be
I m human not a dream
At the command, I shall smash the mirror,
of myself.
poem by Luca Menin
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What went wrong
What went wrong
Writing life songs.
From the emptiness to creation
Revelations.
Matter of time, kindness was done.
Dust creation, breath of life.
Good and bad.
Tree snake.
Disobey, cast away.
Man of the cave.
Restricted, knowledge of words in a foreigner language
Mothering though.
Wisdom.
The bird and the fish
Tree and reed
The pickaxe and the plow
Silver and bronze
[...] Read more
poem by Luca Menin
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Night's riders, on the shore
The swimming of the sea
, the waves accompany little creatures
floating upon the surface;
immersed in a deep breath
here, re-emerging, and then hide.
Refreshing islands of sands furnace; ambush
The walk castaway, the last breath of the skin,
impatient the water cools, the full-bodied,
A part of me belongs to the sea; the other is left floating
On banks of freshness and green palms.
And when the moon is immersed in the veil of the sea,
We squirt and jump, night's riders,
on the shore.
poem by Luca Menin
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Dancing on the sea
Exotic sounds
Staring as if hypnotized.
The moon savouring enchanted, those movements
almost stationary The sound of the sea,
His light footsteps, move across the floor
as his eyes distracted,
confident, almost cocky
as his drawn by an hand, on his hips and head,
A symmetrical dance, which mingled the waves sound
almost dancing with them.
The quiet beach, sandy was coloured gold,
under the moon watching.
She approached 'him with the harmony,
of the wave's movements
Reflecting him like almost dancing on the sea.
poem by Luca Menin
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Station
What comes in my mind?
A reckless feeling, that I cannot explain.
Water rain, grey sky.
Outside the door observing eyes.
Mechanical view.
Airplanes, hotels& bridges
On the morning station.
A crowd of people
Bees in the hive
Computers talking loud
Imagine TV, books review.
It may offend you.
Did you ever kill someone?
I don't shoot for miss.
Flocks of sheep with the monitor shaper.
Silent news papers
The last carriage, is the dead one.
[...] Read more
poem by Luca Menin
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