(POEM)

When our thoughts touch
we raise fire every time and universes stop, afraid not to burn out
then we give reason ground and indulge waters to settle down
until storms give in, once more, in the mix
with passion inside,
that always survives,
and next time around will conjure from the same unquenched source
the flicker of warmth, the sparkle of hope
the flame which bonds
anew our thoughts bespoke
from unbanned dreams to the flavor of wishes
like diaphanous magnets, depolarizing earths
with too much energy pouring from you into me
while skies and soils bow
before the justice
of the eyes and hearts refound
longing to intertwine,
bursting with laughter and tears –
feelings
boldly conspiring with destiny
to win against biases and fears
and reunite what was always meant
to be one.

And there, between volcanoes and floods,
amid fantasies and truth
from the prelude of us
I save embers and dew
and wait for you
to be mine.

(Soar, 2014, ? www.soaring-words.com)

(POEM)

Sometimes I write to gently waft the air at the side
to come close-by
and whisper ?hi?
while your thoughts already enliven my mind
rising swirls of feelings
leaving my words at the brink
of poetry
intermingled with the prose
of reality
thickened by the fog
in your world
silencing your mouth and ears
before the speech of freedom
and the air of hope
you would hold
like a breath of love
should your pulse approach
to vie for my warmth
when I fall asleep
and you arouse on my lips
fantasies –
riveting thrills
that I take in bits of memories
from the heart
you relinquish to my sighs
like a wild horse prancing for spring
while I breathlessly run with scents
over void fields
to save our faith
and bring peace against the erratic scenery
that never counted with the dreams
we conceive our instants with
and grow them one by one
indomitably
until they become
?we?.

Sometimes I write a poem about you
just to say ?thank you?
sometimes I write
because I love you.

(Soar, 2014, ? www.soaring-words.com)

(POEM)

I run through the woods to find part of my soul
Left with you a long time ago
You’re still at the brink of my wandering, waiting,
In your hand with my serenity
And my completeness on your lips
I fell in desire with;
I struggle through winds and leaves
Feeling for your clearance, my peace,
Further away, where I aim
Through earthy callings for my name
Duping my heart in games.
You smile and let lessons of life confront my light
Ready to hold me should I ever fall down
I cross diaphanous forms to see the prelude of suns –
Your eyes
Contouring what the world can?t define
Something that my poetry has pledged to glorify
Against blades hurting its drive
For it’s long and tiresome
To be one without you around
To move forth when everyone turns back
And to smile every time I cry
In the fight of the truth against disregards
But at the end of flows and frowns
Fate whispers to my life
That wars love noble outcomes
That pieces of soul need to reunite
Storms the quiet nights
And you to be mine.

(Soar, 2014, ? www.soaring-words.com)

I never liked rules and constraints in my poetry…I let it run free as it wants towards the corners of eyes and hearts it feels to indulge. This is my very first (and last) sonnet, where rhymes, theme, plot, shape and rhythm need to have a precise order and rule…

(POEM)

To redefine you in other lyrical forms
Cast in grey rituals of grand ancient plays
It?s like taking the gist of an outspoken soul
To lay bare the same footprints of your way
I know the paints by heart, yet drawing is too difficult
With you holding the blues of wavering hues,
Misting the dawn from its purport
While I use trust, patience and chocolate as muse
The scenery flows with six-dimensional feelings
Same care, rippling meanings of tomorrows
You watch confused the practice of my preaching
For it?s your well of ?free? and ?happy? that I colour
So that each morning of hope or stumbling night
You can redefine the truth of you and I.

(Soar, 2014, ? www.soaring-words.com)

In front of me proceed
the notes of a song I dare not sing,
yet I?ve been longing for so long to feel
like an orchestra in need to dominate
all of its strings,
without rehearsing bridges
just wishes.
I?ve known it for eternity
it?s what I lost and you brought back to me;
?You can?t lose what you haven?t had?,
you reassure me.
But we both know too well
that somewhere in undefined spaces,
this melody was made for the tone of my pulses,
or were you already the intent of my poetry?

The road has been too long
for your hand to reach my warmth,
amid lovers stealing your beliefs in bits,
for your eyes to grasp my silhouette,
before past reminiscences,
and for your heart to feel the symphony
in a void place of untuned experiences
where we are found rewound;
fate is not to doubt, nor is the unpredictable outcome
for it would make us look like fools in front of any sun ?
our only ally,
together with the truth we still provide
to keep our seed alive.

Sometimes I stop and wonder if you are surreal
or maybe I?m addicted to the rays
waning on your skin,
despite winters meant to appease peaks of feelings,
when you whisper in my ears
with a silent kiss
so many things from the other life we had in dreams
and I know I am awake and living
love
as it must have been,
as it feels in reality,
embellished by patient d?j? vus and art philosophies,
pastiche of universes upon two destinies:
you and me.

(Sneak Peek! ?Yours, poetically?. Special Deluxe Edition of Poetry and Quotes in two Tomes by Soar. Release Date: Spring 2014).

My very first ever written poem…back in 2009:-)

(Poem)

Happy ?
heaven or of human kind?
when two eyes keep a world alive
and their reach means inner light
acknowledging delight
even in chores bearing sighs;
a nakedness inside,
with no taboos or self-pride,
where space melts into time
and freedom is released from whys;
the taste of two lips? realms
while gazing afar
waiting for the dew to bring the earth to life
at dawn.
The truth disguises faith in rainbow
for the sake of love in bits of hope:
four eyes, two animas, one universe,
both heaven and of human kind
? Happy.

(Sneak Peek! “Yours, poetically”. Special Deluxe Edition of Poetry and Quotes in two Tomes by Soar. Release Date: Spring 2014. No liability over the picture. Picture credits: Disney.com New York, New York)

If you find something precious on your path, hold on to it for life!

***

TWENTY

(Poem)

twenty drops of blue until I found you
lying in the depths of my inner faith
silent and constant, just like time, passing
through mirrors of spaces I meant to escape to
pledging with stars at night to guide my compass for new sights
which brought me again to the same spot of past
your smile, engendering wonders in my eyes
my laughter, so fresh, as a child reconfirming innocence
nothing has changed, except…your hair is more grey,
my lips a little sadder than back then,
and our worlds refilled with newcomers…to stay;
how can we start, even continue
something we have always had? ?-
a fire I made from your candid sparks
and was stolen by time, in its rush to grow us up
as adults, putting our souls aside
to concentrate on minds,
their tasks and rules to abide by,
time failed, and here we are,
smile beside smile,
with embers kept for life
?destiny?, I whisper, ?chemistry?, you swear;
the more I look into your eyes, the more I fall
there, where I belonged,
in your arms I missed so long
and put aside as memory untouched,
for I was afraid to take hurt with me along,
and brave to carry your love in my thoughts,
with the gentle reminiscence of all your jokes
which had painted my world;
you remained within
and rekindled the universe
with all that we could have been
in chocolate and lips,
endearments, sultry unveilings —
love-sharing
sweetening duties,
you, me and our unwritten pact of sincerity,
our blue sea,
deeply authenticated
with laughter and care as annexes,
transforming twenty threads of time in seconds
of heartbeats, soaring through air
that your regrets and sorrows try to repair
in a fast train of homecoming
where it all started,
with you, holding my hand,
precious disrupter of silent feelings
always, in your dreams,
where I am your queen
and you are pampered by my wishes,
while we still remain reality
and keep smiling at the same thought —
forever
we?ll hold on.

(Soar, 2013, ? www.soaring-words.com)

(Poetical thought)

from the tumult of my life I reach to you and see your scar
It cuts me open and suspends me in your air
Like perfume?s fine particles sprayed into one?s hair
They smell, but are they felt like elixir of fate?
They soothe, yet can you heal with them?
They have no clue of how to bloom ? there is no recipe
They just give off their spring
To make a season of serenity
Into your world of quagmire pillows
Holding idle goals and arrows;
Forgive the fragrance, destined on your path to stay
It?s just some rays entangled in your hair
A woman?s breath caressing your air
Like feathers
Holding your weight with care
Growing into the beauty of you
Or as a quote said:
It?s more about the truth of deeper values.

(Soar, 2013. ? www.soaring-words.com)

…should you ever think to pause your kisses and regale
your lips to surfaces
I say kiss me
for you know my breathing
as the sound of your mute yearnings
while I have memorized your sighs of pain and pleasure undefined –
when you close your eyes
and I reach horizons within your arms
or you abandon thoughts and measures to the gate of my caresses
it’s when you confide with life upon my rock of care and trust
oh, we are so defined!
That outer world can’t break us now
with any crack of haunting past nor present over you in rush;
and every time I wander
every inch of your life presence
with traces of love close to your essence
and wait for your surrender in my meanings
it’s like mango falling for chocolate
like musiq playing your love is king in harmonies
or fashion running for poetical freedom
with happiness sprouting from our symbols
little things without promises
just souls of given word and mates of destiny
you and me.

(On mango and chocolate, November 2013, Soar)

(STORY)

– Grandpa, please tell me one of your stories again. Can you make it nice, just like the last one?
– Sure I can, sweetie pie. I can make it just as sweet as you are. This time I am going to tell you a real story about apples and how sweet they can be. Listen?
There was once a woman with intentions of a kind substance, named Daria, who produced apples for a living and would sell them for little reward in a big mall, where she owned a cosy spot. The apples came from her own orchard, owned by her family for hundreds of years, planted with care in virgin soil, and watered with hopes of sweet yields, regardless of times of peace or war. All the efforts of many generations, which she ardently laid bare as the special fruit of what she represented, were simply labelled in the mall as ?bio?.

People passed by every day, some would stop to ask about the origin of their beauty, others admired with a fugitive smile, or ignored the spot, immersed in thoughts, while only a few were intent on taking her orchard?s benefits with them. One day a woman entered the store, a foreigner from distant shores, with hair proud and beauty undefined. Daria saw her interest and welcomed her with a lavish taste from her little world. The foreigner retorted she had no time then, but that she would return soon again. And return she did, with plenty of time and no money; she said she was short of means and hungry. The best apples of the day were served to satiate her; she even took some home, dashing off with a contented grin and a bucket full of autumn perfumes. She said she would come back again.

But time went on with neither sign nor sight of her. Until one time, when they briefly met by accident. Daria rejoiced and waved from a distance, but the lady?s eyes were deplete of warmth like cold crystals. ?Maybe she has other things on her mind? she thought, yet many months went by and the more their paths crossed in the same mall, the more the foreigner looked away indifferently, as though the apples had always been an inconvenient distress for the mall?s success. Daria just couldn?t comprehend the other view beyond the fence, but she let nature play its game of 3-dimensional array and waited for better days. And that day came, with the same lady tearing through the stores of the mall with a happy glow. ?Maybe now?s the time? she said swept up by the enthusiasm.

?Remember me??, ?What do you want??, ?Nothing, I just thought it?s nice to say hello, I didn?t mean to interrupt?, ?I see your intent and it?s been long, I know, but I have no time for sentimentalism, and am no longer in need of your apples? scenery. They all tasted sour to me?.

A strong swift blow on Daria?s soul, just as a white flag would be shot down by a black gun in the survival round: it was a moment of sheer truth passing through that fence she couldn?t understand before. The lady left never to return again, while Daria left too, there on the floor, the hope for that conceitedness to grow more roots of nothingness. She smiled, for she knew that the apples bore the secret of something powerful: they changed their taste, according to the breed of the lips biting their beauty: sometimes sweet, other times sour, even bitter, just like their owner?s seed.

The reason why the apples from such a populous mall were appealing only to certain type of souls ? the ones who were not there to take, but to give something in exchange, their kindness.
For every time anyone would take an apple from that place for the sake of feeling sweetness, the most they would get would be a taste of their own inner self. The apples are never to blame.

And as for me, there were times when apples were too rough or mushy to try, times I needed to fight to keep their taste right, but now, ever since I have you in my life, my sweetie pie, they all taste the same to me: innocent and sweet. Because everything precious and pure coming in our lives should be treated likewise.

The old man, once a visitor himself of the store of self-awareness from the story he had just said, bowed to kiss a tender forehead over a smile, replete with the sweetness of so many apples?in a dreamland.

(Soar, November, 2013. ? www.soaring-words.com, No liability over the picture. Picture credits: www.favim.com)

A puzzle in search of smiles; you need to bring a lot of heart along to shine from downtown Brooklyn to Manhattan uptown. Pacing, running, standing?Grand central station where every rush is in slow motion. Spoken words and singing talents in the corners of colored spaces. Lights, passers-by and sun, park of beauty and statue of statuses. Empire state of love watching over swarming souls. Fruit?sweet and juicy, mangos favorites. Here chocolate mingles with caramel. Sneakers, brands and Broadway. The three colors of passion, pure and true perpetuate in dens and mansions. And an angry bull imposes strength at the gate of finance. Running through the subways with dreams to stay. Longer. Soon. Paramount grandeur and precious details. My one-of-a-kind remembrance, my same love with a new suitcase♥

(Soar, 2013. Picture credits and source: private)

(POEM)

It?s a she disguised in beauty
walking around stealing the destinies
of innocence
who never learned to safeguard dreams
while she has refined techniques of blandishment
smiling, to the ridicule of senses,
and then she turns and whispers to her white sister:
?You can always count on me?;
when she?d already planned to choke her meaning
with innuendo fragrances
like cheap accessories, dangling
on the scenes she is directing
to convince the public of her majesty
over the small girl
still needing to grow,
choosing not to sell away her soul
for the victory of the glow.
The girl will hardly have a chance to win
there, where she stirs meanders of prettiness
for they don?t stop to ponder on the deepness
which she – the smile masking wrinkles-
hides in frustration, feeding herself
with their strengths and weaknesses
playing it low for higher games
turning the truth to her convenience.
You, who still search for peacefulness
by the lake of complex faces
had better let her lose;
a forged ally
with puppy-like yeses and likes
is never the good approach in life
when your eyes need to see the other side
and your heart to learn
from the wrongs to mend into right
with the love wings fate blessed you with
yet she cut off from your sky
and called them inappropriate
while you were asleep at night.
Sometimes it?s better to be one
than two, with hypocrisy
in broad smiles by your side.

(July 2013, ? Soar. Picture credits: Giulia Marongiu)

(POEM)

Up on a ladder of rays where destiny plotted my stay
I saw your eyes suffusing my light
into something undefined,
stopping my flow for a moment
of eternity,
elapsed in a smile on your face –
room for my fantasy to chase
there, in the warmth of your hand,
keeping me safe from falling
down to earth again.

The scenery flees
without asking for orientation preferences,
north and south lost their memory
and I believe the centre of the universe to be
inside that hand holding mine
growing at a thunderous speed,
keeping my dreams
close to your skin
I dare not touch
for the respect of souls we bear inside.

Have I told you I am slow of sparks
and deeper in the embers I shelter from harm?
I cannot climb with instincts and assumptions as ally;
the dance I learned
comes from fairy-tale books
and I know nothing of the moves
with ballet shoes undone;
I need more time to contemplate
you, inside out
and reach to you on the tiptoes of faith I emanate.

But you, you?ve already advanced within the dance
like furious deluge,
over a sultry spring in nature?s quietness
you need to see and smell again;
no time to rest, you?re counting our breaths
in looks and smiles and gestures you compress
in signs of trust?or is it lust?
As though the universe will perish soon
without the bliss of our unity
I am too bewitched to see.

So I step back,
my heart still in the hand clutching your sweat
for I?m impetuously falling for your melody,
which I?ve been singing ever since I was a child
and now the notes are here, in front of me,
all over your face searching for my poetry
I am still unable to recite
until I know the essence of such symphony
and learn as well the silence pacing your being.

Maybe I inflame our magnetism
or you are moved by a girl?s philosophies
I?ll close my eyes and let fate decide;
if we were one in another time
we?ll always reunite
under different moons and suns
within the same bloom of hearts;
for now, my future love, let?s lie down a while
and watch from the ladder of our spark
the universe conspire – you and I.

(Picture credits: Giulia Marongiu)

(POEM)

At the well of destiny
the impostor of dreams met the conceiver of beliefs
and shook hands
for the same length of their intent:
to gain volume on their glass of sand
and have patience mould some stars in clay
for the girl with almond eyes they framed,
there, in the place where she came
her dreams to perpetuate
with only a big heart and one cent.
Like the north and south of the same eagerness,
wordsmiths of words conjuring nothingness,
they tossed sparks of promises around her faith
to feed their essence with her innocence
to drink a rare drop of blue
under a sky witnessing fallacious virtues.

The first was shrewd of shows and old of means,
brandishing techniques of paramount reveries,
selling fame and wishes
for every sip of blood his victims
would bestow to such mesmerist
and learn by heart a melody with subliminal lyrics
which his black eyes were preaching
with the smile of his past victories.
The other one too young
was running for fresh trust
to gain experience and be grand
just like his rival beside
except that he wouldn?t steal hearts
but let butterflies without wings fly
or would endorse summers deprived of sun.

The well of yore could see it all,
beyond the murmurs of its revolt
and as the wisest of the world,
it welcomed the coin
and listened to the girl?s inner voice
moved by her beauty to perceive,
with undulations shivering for her safety,
in a space where time was just skimming through values;
it gently reflected her face
from the deepness of its memories,
answering to her who to believe in,
what strength and soul legacy to better keep
or where to search
when universes would dissipate in mist.

As she laid upon its marble steps,
staircase of symbols in art shapes,
tired of thoughts, refilled with love,
the girl said goodbye to both courtesans
for a better reach of her horizons,
for a deeper purpose of her essence
and watched her coin fall
in the piths of her own hope
where it was cherished like gold,
among the old and young and bold –
reminiscences of peregrines
who passed by wisdom?s ponderings
at least once a lifetime in that spot of bounty.

For no one could ever grasp
that the well was hiding the registrar of lives
where, coin by coin, all entries were kept
like strings of fate to evaluate,
to give worth or remove glow
to sighs and lies of hearts and minds
for the sake of just one word
named the secret of the world,
kept in potions of bliss only for those
who proved themselves right over the wrong –
a matter of strength and lenience
at the well of happiness.

(Soar, May 2013, ? www.soaring-words.com. Picture: Fontana di Trevi, Rome; Picture credits: Soar)