Hail Will Hit My Back
Wind is changing, it's getting stronger
when rain starts wetting, hail will hit the ground
hail will hit my back, I'll be waiting
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Sleepwalkers
Sleepwalkers can truly be themselves
wandering like wolves through inverted symbols
unaware about how weird they could be seen
they push forward
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Memories like night-birds
Memories like night-birds across the time
Are searching for a prey to hunt
Memories like waves of the ocean
Are looking for a place to fade their foam
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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White Mint Flavour
Smell of spring is coming
warm green fields and dark earth
Lazy days are candies in our pockets
I taste your white mint flavour
going through my breath
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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G.H. Tribute
The quiet intensity of a weeping
sound and shiver whose refrain is missing
they don't know mildness
they forgot, they left it behind, a queen chess
this wounded love image of a fall
while knights eclipse with the owl's call
in half-light their stone
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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In The Present
Hundreds of silhouettes dancing, they wave goodbye
In the distance their voices
The charming call draws a whisper hard to resist
and steps are approaching while I'm leaving
it's so confusing, this thirst is like a dazzling desert
saving my hands for a moment, in the Present
How far we can be in our thoughts
imagination is an amazing field of wildflowers
illusion a glass bridge over monstrous realities
where radiant and mesmerised daydreamers
walk with a grin on their face, peaceful but fast
saving their mind for a moment, in the Past
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Meet the dead
Dazzling shadows floating in golden cloaks
among turquoise rays and purple skies
monkey's movements draw spider's nets
and light feet jump in long lopes
How many of you are now dancing with the secret?
still young, too young but shining
you brought with you naïvety and some unsolved fragilities
stories of little souls abandoned to the unknown
By accident, by choice, by hazard
too soon you met your forever
leather laces grace no wrinkles necks
and ethereal limbs dress unshaped clothes
What would you've done if you had known your destiny?
Did you live your days like colours of the rarest flower?
Because no one can bear the incomplete act of a play
due to the sudden vanishing of the author
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poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Metropolitan delusion (Have a good day!)
Ok, I'm definitely and irreversibly done
As if all the existing skyscrapers were falling down in a sec
as if all the computers in the world crashed simultaneously
as if each ant could be heard screaming before I step on
Have I got it across?
Do you usually wish the victim a nice day after killing her?
Got it... you were ironic
Jeez, it's so unbearable, there's no end to shame
What's wrong with me?
Nothing... it's just that I'm an idiot
I'm scared to watch myself in this mirror, I'm a mess
My eyes are black of grey unmade kajal
I could declare I've been punched
and it is more or less what it happened
Period is on its way, damn it!
and I almost broke with my mother last week
great! everything is under control
You wrote you never read, you deleted in advance
you asked for no reply
what a request if you spammed me already
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poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
Follow me, follow my soul breaking this darkness
Can you see it, can you feel me close to you now?
If you're scared, touch me, I've never been so real
all around us makes sense in this sleepy journey
Crazy odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
sometimes they shine like childish eyes at the zoo
sometimes they weep like old people on a bench
the morning is so tired to start
the night is so short to end
The sun, the moon and the stars
the wind, the sea across the earth
we can go everywhere, we can do everything
all I want is breathing in your breath
Crazy odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
premonition of good and bad news
bridges between our present lives
stairways to our impending future
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poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Do me a favour, bury me
If there is a timeframe for pain
if there is an expiration date for love
an expiration date for everything in life
I just wonder who decides the duration
are we protagonists or bit players?
Take this childish forever and give it a border
let it to fend for itself
this ridiculous feeling deserves your mockery
and when you'll have finished with it
do me a favour, bury me
Yesterday my son built Lego planes
the ultimate joy was to destroy them
that smashing reminded me of my mess
what a awkward image
well, I will cut my hair one day or another
Take this shame and wreak havoc on it
cover all with fresh flowers
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poem by Ilaria Boffa
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