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The little white dog threatened with loud barking the wild swans, from the banks of the artificial pond. Not so far elder and quiet spouses were doing a feast on the grass, while the little girl with the red- ribboned white hat was playing with her kite: the run, the stone, the stumbling,the falling, the head banging on another stone ... and a trickle of blood rising along togheter with the ribbon ... two red lines so different in meaning and origin. The dog stopped barking, the woman screamed and ... not because the kite, which had no more leader had gone to get caught between the branches of a tree.
Literature
Muse
Where now the woman who wrote of passion to haunt my waking dream? Where is her song of hatred and love that sets my mind agleam? For silence has grown in the clamour days as the memory is lost. But I search for her still in the moments of quiet and ever I damn the cost.
Literature
The Masks We Wear
when you fall head over heels, how does it go? are we honest, or two masks just pretending? craving words like hot air in my lungs, I would scream and cry if only it'd mean anything at all.
Literature
Eclipsed Dreams
The colored leaves do not make up anymore for the colorless world which I perceive. Once more I scribble some words onto paper but cannot grasp a single meaning of the work. And I ask myself again, what could have been? If you were the person that I made up you to be, a false perception that I so carefully stitched together. Maybe I am better off alone but the spark won't extinguish-
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[Il cagnolino bianco minacciava con chiassoso abbaiare i cigni selvatici,dalla sponda del laghetto artificiale.Poco distanti dalla rivai coniugi attempati e silenziosi facevano un banchetto sull’erba,mentre la bimba col cappello bianco dal nastro rosso giocava con l’aquilone:la corsa,il sasso,l’inciampo,la caduta,la testa che batte su di un altro sasso… ed un rivolo di sangue che s’alza insieme al nastro… due linee rosse di così differente significato e natura.Il cagnolino tacque,la donna urlò… e non perché l’aquilone,ormai senza timoniere s’era andato ad impigliare fra le fronde d’un albero.]
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È davvero una poesia... Mi piace come scrivi. Dovresti iscriverti ad un sito di poesie su Deviantart, così potrai farti conoscere.