Sometimes they come back

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C9HWH86T

Sometimes they come back

(The New Slaughter of the Innocents)

 

Herotheniau and Dontius Pilatrum

Are plotting all around

The first wants to be again

The only king of Palestine

and that is why he’s  killing

all the children around Israel;

the second, is convinced,

 after two thousand years,

he has found the truth

he once asked Jesus about

now embodying it

with the arrogant recklessness

of one who wants no restraints or limits

except those he imposes on himself

And he would do well

to wash his hands of it,

even if they are stained with money,

oil, and power,

and he will never be able

to clean them.

Moreover, he is an accomplice

to king Herotheniau

in the extermination of innocent children.

Unfortunately, sometimes they return.

Sparks of faith

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0181HCMKY

The Poem of Creation

Prologue

I sing the God Almighty’s Creation

Whereof were firstly born Adam and Eve

former seed of any human Nation

at the time they could only conceive

the joyfulness with no desperation

In the Eden still so far to receive

The challenge of that infernal snake

Who wanted to be a godlike fake!

 

I also sing about the brave men strays,

Straight descendents  from that chosen race,

who such in boldly and daring ways

Isr’eli people to holy surface

They led of Palestine. Hates, loves betray’ls

I don't omit, on fortune and disgrace:

those between God and men, tribes and  kingdoms;

and I sing laws, exiles and wars into my songs.

  

Arduous so much however it ‘s my part,

long and full of traps my composition,

That plenty of fear I feel into my heart,

if only I dare to think myself on action,

and tremble with my hand before I start

The Old and   the New Holy Narration!

My Fairy God, You Firmament’s Creator

Allow  me to become a keen narrator!

 

From Genesis’ to Apocalypse’s book

please drive my hand between rhymes and accents

to enable  jointly with my mind, to hook

the most significant, deep, true  sentiments

in order they can take a fairly look

of those seventy three, pious components!

If someone goes to Source for sweeter tasting

 all my efforts for sure I won’t be wasting!

 

 

 

The Dreamer

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQDFK2JW

Chapter 3

My remembering was interrupted by a discreet touch at the door. Mr Winningoes entered holding a tray in a hand on which there was a stumpy teapot in porcelain and three handless cups, decorated with Chinese ideograms.

«I apologize for leaving you alone for such a long time »he said happily–«but to make tea is a very serious matter that requires time and skill. Help yourselves please».

I filled the three cups with a lot of attention. George, taking one on his hand, gazed at its outside and the inside for a long time. He seemed particularly interested in the small yellowish petals that floated on the surface.

«They are jasmine's flowers», said the old man. «I get this tea directly from China. It is delicious, isn't it?» he added, turning to me, while I was trying to sip it slowly, in order not to burn me.

«Yes, certain. It is very tasty. Do you also like Chinese cuisine?», I returned him on time.

«Oh, yes, for sure! I do it so much», he answered with a light flash on his face. «I remember when my son Adam was still alive…»

But suddenly we saw that flash of light illuminating his face transformed into a dark and sad countenance.

«My son Adam…» he echoed bitterly himself, with a smile of self-pity on the pale lips. We observed a respectful silence for the pain of that man who appeared at times a proud lion, full of projects for his future, to become instead afterward, a man tired of striving, bent by disgraces and by the time.

I wished I had mastered a better English to show him my solidarity and tell him that I didn't even know he had had some children, not even he had gotten married, forming a proper family; apart, of course, his father and mother, whom he had spoken of to us for long time throughout his story.

But who was really that strange man? Was it enough to know him well, what he had told us himself rightly on that same day? I made an effort to collect my ideas recalling the story in his own words.