REFLECTION
We all have the experience of reflecting on what we think,
do, say or dream. Reflection helps us to better ourselves, it
forces us to review facts and proposals, it encourages us to
meditate on our state of being. With the act of reflection,
humans distinguish themselves fom other beings creating in
themselves memories of the past, rationalising the actions of
the present, incorporating plans for the ‘morrow.
In this mixture of thoughts, we find that aid that makes us
progress towards goals that are always more ambitious and
creative. Reflection brings to the individual who practices it
that necessary wisdom which comes from balancing our
reality, our contacts with nature and our relationship with
other human beings and other species.
Who we are and what we appear to others can be two
different things. Reflection makes us understand the
complexity of our existence in its relationship with the rest of
the physical and spiritual world. The following poems are
philosophical reflections that were born out of my being in
lucid and pensive moments.
Everyone
Everyone
finds
in himself
his own truth,
if he looks for it,
if he doesn't hide it
from his sight.
It's there
inside...
like the sun
which brightens the day.
To Live
To live
your life
as you want
is nothing more
than a mirage
in the desert.
People
place upon you
a hope...
which you ignore.
The sparkle
of love
is perhaps missing
from your heart.
Everyday
Every day we see dawn,
the sun, sunset, the night.
Men fill their days
with new experiences, facts, successes.
But there is also amongst them
defeat, delusion, uncertainty.
In the final analysis they are always children
these men who play in this courtyard
with all the other children.
And everyone looks at them from afar
and then analyses them with their human binoculars
like old people who look behind
with nostalgia and indifference.
Drop
The water which quenches
the insatiable thirst
of the little rapacious bird
becomes one within the waves
of the infinite sea.
Insignificant drop
you become important
in the blue immensity.
Under the summer sun
you shine your delicate
puffed cheeks.
Then you disappear into the bottom of the sea,
and there you remain, under the sand,
to enjoy eternal peace
forever.
You’re alone
You're alone
in your world
lit by city lights.
And in your dreams
a chimera
is shining for you.
Look
at the asphalt.
Its surface
is hard.
Only on the grass
will you find the truth
of your existence.
Reflection
You're
dressed.
Don't tell
anyone.
Everyone knows it.
And each one wants
from you
a torn piece
until you remain
naked.
Division
I feel
an hour
of love.
I want to give
everyone
a moment of it.
But its division
only gives each person
but an echo
of my heart.
Instead
My heaven is spent this evening
like that, without saying why. A void,
like an abyss, twirls in me.
I want to speak, laugh, joke,
dance, sing. But no!
I stay here like a statue
motionless in my dark thoughts.
Fixed, like a viper before
it launches on its prey, the mind,
traitor of the instinct, makes its way
in my painful spirit. And it says to me:
"don't worry. Keep on looking at your star,
perhaps that darkness will clear".
And I, drily, disdainfully reply:
"don't interfere! Why do you want
to clear darkness which is so powerful
in the human and enslaved people?"
And, again, an unfriendly, cold emptiness.
Now I don't know when it is spring again,
I don't know whether the life of flowers can
fill again with joy
my nature. And yet
it was spring just yesterday.
The flowers don't change so quickly.
But the birds continue to sing
whilst, in the sky, a solitary cloud
moves vagabond, without a goal.
Instead...
I shall follow Don Quixote
One day I shall find
among the fragments
of my life
some small
sparkle.
Every flame
has become spent
too quickly.
It seems a mystery
that it was so.
Youth has gone
without having brought me
a mouthful of fresh water.
And I drank a lot and
often from the beverages
of the fridge of life.
They did not quench my thirst,
they did not satiate me.
Love has been
a great illusion:
already lost even
before having had it!
Art has been
my most arduous
companion,
but how expensive!
Friendships made
but then destroyed:
loyalty repaid
with suspicion;
generosity replaced
with mean greed.
Then work
smiled at me,
but it too became
egotistical!
It brought the complications
of the human condition,
which tire
the already overused mind.
Where will this
my ship in a storm
find a port?
Where will I be taken
by this wind
which blows so fiercely?
In which direction
will the weather force me
to sail to find
the serene calm?
And then when
I shall arrive, perhaps
I will not be happy.
Then I shall depart
and Don Quixote I will follow!...
Flight of thought
I have seen
my life pass
in a flash
in front of me
like the moon
at night
when it is full.
The full moon
brightens up
in the darkness
and walks
in its moment
of vain-glory.
It dies and is reborn
in a cycle
of perfect timing.
Till when this will last,
no one will ever know...
(Life is like this also).
The sparkle of life
Tell me friend,
have you had a dream in life?
Have you seen near you the joy of love?
Have you known how to love with all your heart?
Things are beautiful in life
when the heart adorns them with love.
Even the child,
when light illuminates life,
has always opened his eyes to see,
to feel the novelty of being.
Becoming a man is nothing else
but a personal experience.
The child we have it always present
within us, in our own truth.
He caresses our thoughts,
reinforces our ideal for better things;
he breaks the wisdom of the cynic
whose smile is bitter in his mouth.
Then when our star
slows down our wishes,
when she calls to herself
the mortal soul of every individual,
the shine disappears.
Flowers only grow in happiness.
* Stella in Italian is feminine
* Star in English is neutral gender
I have used Star as a feminine noun even though
its nuetral gender.
Mother tongue
In Australia
our children chew
the language of their parents
at home, within their domain.
And when they begin their flight
they change their speech with their wings:
and the more they fly in the sky
the more they are not understood.
The more they stay away from home
the more they lose their mother tongue.
It could be that distance
increases discord.
Ephemeral truth
The other day, outside of the window,
there was a sincere boy
who walked alone on the grass,
on the stony pebbles, in the tracks.
Alone he looked at the day and things.
He did not see the humans.
Only admiring the heights
forced him to follow the steps
of his true way: an ephemeral truth.
A worm tires on the road.
The man made asphalt
chokes the sweet path of the meadows!
Which one?
Take it one day at a time
as the song goes. Take it
easy! Don't worry!
Be yourself. So be it.
Optimism is better than
pessimism. It makes you
feel good. Optimism
sees everything in a new
healthy way. It even
refuses to see reality!
It gives you an illusion
of power and self esteem.
Optimism feeds on hope
and dreams, on health
and good care, on
feeling good inside.
The opposite is feeling
in a negative way.
Pessimism is unhealthy.
It sees reality in its own image,
it gives no hope
and no way out. It stands
by itself. lts comments
are depressing. It gives no
illusions. If dreams are
present it leaves them behind.
Nothing is any use. You can
lull in your self pity.
So which one do you choose?
He is only a puppet
There on the road
I see only
a puppet.
What does it matter if the rain
drenches him to the bone.
He is only a puppet
who cares nothing for the world
or nature.
He approaches his end
caring for no one,
not even himself.
Once he walked
together with other... puppets,
but they failed to understand him,
and he them.
From then on he decided to go on by himself,
taking seriously neither himself... nor others.
Australia
Australia.
Dry land,
serene in your desert
with life which pulsates
only at the shouts
of the ancient aborigines:
true Australians,
wise of the land
which owned them.
Civilisation
takes its definition
from the environment,
from the colour of the flowers
from the warmth of the days
which change only
to go dreaming
in the extended plains
lacking in trees
and water.
Absorbed
You are so far away
there, in that town
lost in the plains,
where the dust
dries up the lips,
where the beer
satisfies the throat
burnt by the heat.
Whilst you drink, you tell me:
"I have need of peace",
and you add: "I need
solitude".
"Australia is a land
which absorbs you in its roots,
without you realising it",
I point out aloud.
"Yes, it is really true" he reflects,
whilst his glance
takes him, somewhere else, where,
sure of itself, nature
reigns over everything else.
Cheese in sight
Everyone is like a mouse
in search of cheese,
hidden from sight.
Like the cheese, happiness
is found in places unknown,
hidden away in the heart of people.
The majority of mice in youth
seek the path to cheese
together in peace. And then,
when in sight of the cheese,
they quarrel and fight
'cause greed rejoices
before paradise so close.
Travel and Home
You travel the world,
you see the sights,
they are beautiful...
Things that you’ll forget,
others that you’ll remember...
Time will choose
which ones are for you.
After it’s all over....
you’ll have been everywhere,
seen everything but, strangely,
it’s as if you have never
left your home.
Your world still untouched:
The legacy of yesterday,
the still point of tomorrow.
Tell me if you’ve learnt
something so very dear...
that which will make of you
a better person with whom to live.
Have you discovered a little part
of yourself that you did not know?
Are you happy with yourself
and the area of the world
in which you live every day?
Have you brought back a message
for someone dear?
A kind whisper for their ears?
Tell us that in the niche
of our heart we shall find
all the world, that in
our fanatsy we can
see things that are more beautiful
than the jewels of the sea.
Because, after all,
the most fantastic thing
is the world of a person
happy with his lot no matter
where this happens to be.
Time
Time is a disposable commodity...
if you use it wisely
you can actually gain
a double quantity!
If you waste it...
don’t worry
you get another chance
to repeat the same mistake!
Time is only a song
that needs to be well sung,
but if you are in disaccord
then you have a broken chord.
If you don’t care
time will let you be
a silent partner
in eternity.
Who have you been?
When you are close
to your end
what will you say to your God?
Perhaps you will remember
those moments most dear
and closest to your heart.
Perhaps you will tally up
the sum of your good
and bad actions.
Perhaps you will think
that you were clever
in your life.
Perhaps the past
you will not even see
fleetingly.
Whatever will be your end,
you will have been you:
unique and alone.
Realization
This morning the elms
on Royal Parade
looked naked to me.
I felt suddenly
cold in my bones;
and even my spirit was dead.
I thought:
it too has a right
to its rest.
New illusion
My dark hours
flee into time,
whilst the storm
abates over the sea.
Even the small bird
has stopped flying,
and now, happy
to retreat, seeks
a nest, thinking
of the betrayed little bird
of his dreams
Oh you,
treacherous day
in the past,
become a traitor
once again
to bring back
to the present
the old illusion.
The Spring
of our dreams
is sweet!
The hopes
of once
are beautiful!
But faded
are now the memories
of this swallow
that in vain wants to
still aim for
the heights of the sky!
Vanity
In my youth
one day I learnt
that good and bad people
have all a quality
that is called vanity.
Everyone wants to communicate
to us what they know;
they believe that everything
that they are thinking of
interests us,
but they are wrong: We don’t want
to know anything,
we already know everything.
Why listen to someone else
who is like us,
who is human like everyone?
I am still young
I sense in the air
a smell of ageing.
Outside, there in the street,
I meet a beautiful
young woman
who looks beyond,
and not at me!
Going further down,
and I hear a friend
say to me... “Do you remember
when we were young...”
And then I see my children
who have already grown up
and they have an air
of wanting to conquer
the world, without me!
Perhaps it is only
my body,
my appearance,
that is ageing.
I don’t care:
I am still young.
The Autumn Harvest
The Autumn of my
life arrives
where the fruits
of past summers
begin to appear,
ripe.
And I gather them,
these fruits,
one at a time
so that they don’t rot
on the laden tree.
I would almost
defer to another
time this harvest,
but nature
doesn’t allow me.
And then that internal
truth presents itself
warning me
of the reality of fruits.
There is in each one of them
that magic moment
when they are
ready to be picked.
Taking them, too early
or too late,
prohibits you to enjoy them
at the peak of their maturity.
The happiness that every
fruit gives comes from
the rich natural taste
of the harvest made on time.
And the other happiness
you will find donating them
to those who don’t have any!
Sharing your fruits
with others, your neighbours,
becomes almost a necessity!
And it is in this generosity
that you find the crumbs
of your future winter.
Memories are
the only things
that will remain
to keep us company
in eternity.
Missed snowtrip
A lack of physical strength
renders the willing spirit powerless.
And yet the dreams and the mind
change the arid days
in fields, pulsating with people,
of snow just fallen
from the humid sky.
The image, like a golden
statue, remains fixed in time.
And fixed, like a statue,
I will always have with me
the unlived memories of
when I, with a sprained ankle,
went up, with my friends,
to see, to touch the white
of the mountains.
Yes, it's true. Even this year,
amongst them, I lived a memorable day:
I sang, I joked, and I laughed
with everyone, with everyone I spoke this year.
And amongst these memories, I saw once again
those dreaming eyes, and those loved features.
Even longer will live the moment
of this sprained ankle.
It will remain with me forever,
it'll stay amongst the crowd of the past
which, like a sharpened arrow,
cuts into the wings of time.
It betrayed the willingness, the missed desire,
the company and the lost memories.
But there is always an alternative:
finally the most beautiful things
are found amongst those people
who know how to live every moment
and the events which have never happened.
On the beach
On this breezy, bright
sunlit day, on the beach
you see all types, of all ages...
of all shapes, of all sizes.
There are the toddlers
shyly approaching the reflux
of incoming waves.
Older children have a thing
with sand... they make
all sorts of constructions:
some simple, some elaborate
but all made with deep intent.
Groups of teenagers are
involved with summer's
national sport: cricket...
or play frisbie, baseball, soccer.
Their eyes are often attracted
by some girls parading
quite happily forgetful
of their feminine fight
for shared equality.
The twenty year olds
are either running
or showing off their
taut, trim bodies,
like self assured
peacocks on the sand.
The thirty something are found
with spouses and children,
looking after the little ones,
using their watchful eyes...
as doting parents.
Yesterday's bronzed youth
is today's middle aged walker.
They walk alone or in twos
or in threes or more,
showing signs of decay.
There are only a few exceptions
and these are noticeable
only by their pretence.
Then you see those
in their fifties or sixties
all independent, exuding
an air of security,
of acquired self knowledge.
They don't seem to care
about others and look after
themselves and their company.
Here and there the over seventies
make an appearance looking on
knowingly at each age group,
engaged in their own beach mood.
When you go next time to Lorne
behold this game of human life
displayed in front of your very eyes.
I am sure that it will always
continue to manifest itself
each year, just like the waves
pounding into the shores..
The end and the beginning
It came:
the end.
To then
begin
again
another cycle.
Like the sky
fills with clouds
and it rains.
Then it clears up
suddenly.
Like the ship
on the high seas
reaches its port
which then sails
once again.
Like the child
who grows up at home.
He then becomes adult
and he goes away.
To then return
when he is ready.