insomnia
There’s no hopefor my longing for oblivion.the night stagnatesin dark moans,and I can’t escapeto his endless lament Hours are centuriesof blind yearning.The stopped clocklaughs at my defeatand I relapse into
My love in winter
Not every nightare equally darknor do they have dead lifeleaning on their windowsills not all sunriseswake up brightnor do they explode in colorsof exciting hope. the wet floor after the
My little Christmas
I have put the nativity scene on the fireplacewithout forgetting the mutilated sheepthat are standing thanks to the mossin which they sink their remaining legs. The memories and emotions pile
Strange Autumn
Strange autumn is a little poem inspired in the climatic change and how the nature and people is reacting to it . … Continue readingStrange Autumn
Steps
When the soul cries and the steps hesitate under the dull weight of mere existence, I stumble upon something beautiful that hides in the most unexpected corner. A melody, a
Good Night
The sky is slowly turning off and the streetlights of the life turn on. its yellowish light light up the gray floor and turns it like gold. So our steps
My music
Surprisingly my music flows free although on tiptoe down uncharted paths to discover sounds and emotions that are inside me and I didn’t know. Harmonies, dissonances, enigmas, new melodies, a
First Christmas exiled
Christmas is coming. A time full of poetry. My parents spent 12 years forcefully separated because of the persecution against Catholics by the communists in Eastern Europe. When they reunited
To a dead demonstrator
My father was a poet and journalist. He suffered a lot during WWII. Almost all his friends and all his brothers died young during those horrible years. He was taken