Wednesday, January 30, 2013

my last day

If today would be my last day, I would never want to die.
Because today I'm doing nothing.
Nothing useful.
Nothing of all the MANY THINGS I should do but I don't want to.
I'm blocked.

Maybe I'm anxious about a national competition I'll partecipate in 12 days: if I'll pass, I could change my life. But there isn't good chance: we are more than 80.000 people for 11.000 positions (teachers). But maybe in my region and for my subject the chances are even less.

And if I pass it, I would be happy? That would really be the solution to my neverending dissatisfaction? I don't know.

I never know nothing, but I'm not a teenager. All the other people seem to know very well what they want, but not me. All the other people seem to pursue a goal, but not me.
I'm always insecure: I thought it would have change with the age, but it isn't so.

Monday, January 7, 2013

My first kiss

It seems yesterday
on the beach,
after days of
mute glances,
your lips
on mine.

Fifteen years,
burning heart,
exchanging letters
for years:
that sweet kiss'
in my mind...

Dear Ahmet,
thank you for
your tenderness,
that introduced me
to love,
under the moon,
on Pamuçak's sand.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Spoken into the Void

Dreaming - pencil and crayon on paper
I wonder if somebody will read my words.
Words lost in the endless net.
Maybe I write just for myself,
to cry the loneliness I feel inside.
All I need is love,
the Beatles were right:
without love we are nothing.
But wich love?
Is enough friends' love?
Children's love?
Parents' love?
Pets' love?
maybe not...

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


Under August's sun
in Mertola's square
you waited for somebody,
pushed by sultriness,
peering greedily
in your hand-cart.
Only three flavours for the palate:
cream, strawberry and chocolate.
Until evening
at every passerby
you anxious stand up,
maybe a customer!
I still imagine
you on the bench
raking around restless,
cleaning the hand-cart,
stand up and sit down...
Finally fill a cone
of ice-cream
and give it to the child
who smiles at you...

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The fish

for once:
to know what to say,
dressed in fashion,
between a beautician
and a yoga class.
Not always a fish,
floundering dumb,
yearning somewhere
calling for help.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Like a tuna

Sea Alphabet - Tempera and china ink on paper.
I'm like a tuna
in a sardine box.

I've got a broken wing
and a chain.
I can't fly
I, a moth.


Lace up - Pencil on paper
Hug me hard,
without words,
and by osmosis
tell me you love me!