Jesus’s Conception

 

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

 

That’s  the way the conception  happened

Of Jesus Christ: His mother,  The Holy Mary,

to Joseph was engaged, man of the dynasty  of David.

After the Angel had  announced,

She would  feel the seed of the Spirit Saint

She started feeling pregnant as she was!

 

Joseph, who was a correct man,

As soon as he knew the strange event

yet perplexed and also worn out,

resolved to a secret surrender

of the nuptial promise, in order  to prevent

every scandalous clamor! Taken

this way the decision, an Angel of God  appears

in dream to Joseph,  saying to him:

“Put apart your doubts and your fears

‘cause the Child, Who’s in

Mary belongs to the Holy Spirit!

Therefore keep With you  the Mother

and the Child will be born from her.

You Will call Him Jesus, The Savior!

As a matter of  fact He will save from the sin

Your people!”As Isaiah had foresaid :

“The  Child whom the Virgo will give

Birth to, will be called Emanuèl;

which means‘Jahvèh with us '!

 

Joseph as woke up

Did exactly as the Angel of God had told him;

He took With him

Her bride who had never known man

and  She gave birth to a boy called Jesus!

The Poem of Creation

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0181HCMKY

Hereafter the lights in the sky He set

Doing the moon and the sun for night and day,

And other signs and stars in dose correct,

for making years and seasons going away,

For the Most High is much more than perfect

And furthermore of this I cannot say!

About this seventh stanza therefore

I will not tell you nothing anymore!

 

 

“Fly off all birds”- said God- “freely in the air

And splash in to the  sea any kind of fish;

Graze lambs, calves and livestock everywhere

In grassy lawns that will never languish;

Grow up any reptiles fair and unfair,

living beings either monstrous or polish!”

After the earth had all animals found

God said to them to multiply around.

 

And finally God said: - “ Let’s make  the man

In our image and likeness, every

And each animal to lead on  command!”

After doing that He rested quietly.

Henceforward, after six days, on the land

men, on the seventh, stay steady Godly,

being it consecrated for prairie and rest,

Both the last hours and also the first!

 

 

But the Creation was not yet complete

Still being missed the breath of the Animator

Who into a giant can transform a bit!

Waters from earth going up by Creator

To mist all over the ground were admit

So could mould the man God the Great Factor

and by that divine blow the man was made

though lonely however, he sadly stayed.

2. to be continued...

 

 

 

 

The Poem of Creation

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/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 World’s Creation

 

At the beginning God created the sky

And the earth, which was shapeless and desert

And darkness cover’d the abysses close by;

But on the waters, with divine, expert

Zeal, God established that obscurity

Had to be opened to the bright alert!

God, seeing that it was good, called Day the light.

And the darkness instead was named Night.

 

Then beneath the waters, the firmament

set God, and between them, b’low, the dry land

He also set, whither at same moment,

To any bud and tree He gave command

From seed to be produc’d for nourishment

Of any species, in ground, soil or sand!

After He had named sky, earth and sea

To following duty God had to begin.

1. to be continued...

The real story of Patrick Winningoes-2

 

https://www.amazon.it/real-story-Patrick-Winningoes-Salvatore-ebook/dp/B0B244SFNQ/

In order to relax I recalled the preceding events, starting from the moment I had firstly met my friend George.

I had known him early in the summer 1979, in a little snack bar of the centre, in the beginning of my London stay. A snack-cafe not so far from Piccadilly Circus, where they made a slightly drinkable coffee. I used to go there, because it was the only place where the coffee was served in the small, classical, Italian cups, and even if it was served with no cream, was still better than that watered black soap that almost all barmen sell off for coffee in England.

The bar was housed in a large rectangular room. On the right of the entry there was the counter with the coffee-machine, while both on the left and the opposite wall, in front of the entry-door, there was a wood bench, lined in plastics of brown color, and, straight above, lined in the identical way, a same long but narrower shelf, plenty of sugar-bowls and ashtrays.

The left wall, for the whole length of the bench, beginning from the shelf and finishing to the originally white-painted ceiling, was made of a thick transparent glass that, giving brightness to the place, allowed the visitors to enjoy a wide outside sight where, just in front, it was well visible the entrance of a theatre with an ample and luxurious atrium.

It was there that George seemed to stare up his look, over the round glasses (like John Lennon’s, I had thought). His olive complexion, the chestnut hair and the black moustaches didn't make him certainly look like a probable Queen’s subject, but I questioned him, this not less, in English. Also because, after all we were in London. What other idiom was I supposed to speak?

He burst into laughter, hearing my question. Not immediately, but after turning his head to look at me, with a funny expression on his face, while with my hands I repeated my request for fire, rubbing, at the same time, my right forefinger on the palm of the left hand.

Lighting his own cigarette, as I stood close and steady, much more interdict than angry, because of his crazy laughing, he told me in a strongly stressed, though smooth, Italian language:

- «Sorry for laughing, but Italian people do make notice of them, when they speak English. You come from Rome, don’t you?» -, he suddenly added, smiling with satisfaction to my sad, affirmative answer.

The place, beside the two of us and a girl sitting on the other side of the bench, was empty. The barkeeper, behind the counter, was preparing a great copy of sandwiches, with cheese and tomatoes, lettuce and meats and a few others with all four ingredients together, according to the best English taste.

- «And you, where do you come from?» - I asked him in some annoyed tone for that reference to the Italian’s accent and particularly to that of the Romans, whose noble descendants I am still proud to belong.

-« I am not Italian» - he answered to me with peaceful voice «but I have lived quite a lot of years in Italy. So I know your customs quite well, and also your accent» -, concluded laughing again tastefully.

This time his laughing, however, didn't upset me at all. Those few words had been enough to make my anger fade away; or maybe I was just only glad to talk to someone without squeezing my brain to translate my thoughts from Italian into English language.

to be continued...

 

 

 

 

Memoirs of London - 16

16.

There were, all around Leicester Square so many public places, each one with its own peculiarities. For example the "Cafe Paris" behind his seeming normality, kept a secret known only to a small circle. It was frequented by old and rich women in search of gigolò or any handsome young man in order to forget for a few hours, their loneliness and their time, perhaps ran  too quickly; or "The worm", a meeting place for gays and lesbians; the "Cokney Pride", where was played  the  traditional London’s music. 

Just in front of my pitch used to gather  a group of tramps.  They sat very often in a circle on the benches, right in the middle of the square.   The benches were set all around  a circular flowerbed in  care to Mary, a girl with no age, brown skin and black hair, stained teeth partially broken on the front. As  a young woman she had been a maid at Buckingham Palace and had been sacked for his drinking  or stealing; or perhaps because of an unwanted pregnancy; her friends called her "Queen Mary" or simply "Queen". With her I had more frequent contact, for  she was fond of ice cream.  I presented one cone to her, from time to time. Afterwards I knew many of them. Each one with his own story.

Miss Rambling, an elderly paralyzed lady who juggled with her wheelchair in London traffic, better than a gymkhana champion, was the only to be  strictly abstemious.

 The others guys and girls, including Mary, were all heavy drinkers. They drank alcohol in place and more than any other liquid drink, including water and milk. However, not everyone had reached the terminal stage of alcoholism.

Max, for example, was sloping slowly but inexorably on the verge of addiction. It was increasingly difficult for him to "hook" in  the Cafè Paris, from which he portrayed his only source of income.

As a young man, as shown by some of his youthful photos he proudly showed, he resembled Clark Gable and of his original beauty only remained in his face a distant halo, distinguished by black mustache, still well-groomed and thin, on a  vaguely sensual lip. But when he was in  group with the tramps, with a bristly beard on his reddish cheeks and crumpled clothes, he looked more like the shadow of himself than that of the American celluloid myth he had looked like in his youth.

 Max had played at the races, one by one, all the properties inherited from his family. He often talked to me about horse racing and sometimes, in the transportation of his story, he said with rage that he would succeed on  redeeming at least one country house in Wales, where he would finally retire for a quiet and sweet old age.

The others, for the most part, were however much more battered and unkempt. Hair without care, black face, of that black that only the road can give; always dirty and torn clothes; beltless trousers  and laceless shoes, signs of their frequent go to and  from places of forced hospitalization, if not from the Royal English Prisons.

They always had the inevitable bottle of liquor or wine in their hands or pockets, or, in the lean periods, a concoction they called "sloppy drink", or more simply "slop" of which I could never understand exactly which ingredients it was made of.

"A Stuff" - Joe,  an ex-boxer,  once told me,  - "that when you drink it, it kills you kindly".

16. to be continued...

Amazed by Jesus

I was a shepherd 

longtime ago

somewhere in Bethlehem

watching my sheeps

Though I was waiting

for Someone to come

I could believe

only my sight

Then I saw a light

sparkling 'n  the sky

I heard a voice

singing with joy

I joined the star

aimed to see

the Glory of God

the King of glee

 I'm still astonished

looking today 

 as Jesus wanted 

choosing to stay 

The least of poorness

 neatness of magic

 plenty with nothingness

the brilliance of love

Please leave me Jesus

the eyes of a child

looking  the Crib

wondering while. 

What life is for

Scene II

(At local police station- Inspector Green’s Office)

(Inspector Green and two policemen)

Insp. Green

-Are you sure then???

First Pm

-Yes, boss! Our deep throat says our two men, Vincent and Norman,  have already received the stuff from Jamaica!

Second Pm (mocking an improbable advertising spot)

-One hundred pounds of very tasteful Jamaican grass!!

Insp. Green (whistling by surprise)

-Fucking hell!!! What bloody channel do they get  such an amount of stuff through???

First Pm

-Our informer does not know it yet!!!

Second Pm

-On the other hand which advantage we’ll  get if we stop these supplies?!?

Insp.  Green (paying the right attention)

-What do you exactly mean by that?

First Pm (after changing a mutual understanding glance with his colleague)

            -Do you know how much is worth that stuff out there???

Insp. Green

-‘don’t know….. may be a forty quid each pound…..

First Pm

-Which   sums up to four thousand fucking pounds…a lot of money, ain’t it?

Insp.  Green (smelling a rat)

-You mean it’s a shame burning such a great amount of money, don’t you?

First Pm (smiling shrewdly)

-As matter of fact it’s a  legal offence even burning a single banknote!

Second Pm

-I know an American lad who cuts the grass off from his garden each time they seize this kind of  drugs…..

First Pm

            …….and he mixes a quarter of marjhuana with three quarters of his grass up to make the seized quantity….

Second Pm

            ……He swears that the incinerator’s guys smell   properly those  burned goods !

First Pm

-Of course, three thousand pounds are to be shared in three parts…

Insp. Green (approving)

-Do we know  where is stashed the stuff?

First Pm

-Not yet, sir!  But we know for sure that Vincent and Norman will start selling the stuff today, right in the afternoon!!

Second Pm

-In order to get rid of it in the shortest time, they  plan  to deliver it to single customers all in a day, carrying the stuff in the car!

Insp. Green

-Do we know the car they will use for delivers? Must be a big one!!

First Pm

            - Yes sir, it’s a van!  Unfortunately  they change it every time, but we know the  address and     the right time of the first deliver!!

Second Pm

-We know that one of them waits in the van while the other goes for delivering…

First Pm

            -….. so we can catch him while delivering the stuff…

Second Pm

            -…. And promise to him   safety  if he leads up straight to the van waiting outside!

Insp. Green

-Excellent, boys! Where’s planned their first deliver then?

First Pm ( handing him a note in a  paper after reading it)

-At five o’clock in a  flat of  Hampstead,  belonging to such a Mr Sailor, Anthony Sailor! 

Insp. Green (standing up, followed by the two guys)

-We will be there right for tea-time!!!

First Pm

– Of course we will!!

Second Pm

-And we‘ll make a very nice infuse, won’t we??

EXEUNT

...to be continued...