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December 31, 2009.
What year .... I remember the Sinatra song "Pieces" ...

"Pieces of Stella, the constellation of pieces, pieces of eternal love, pieces of the season.
pieces of pottery, pieces of glass, pieces of eyes watching inietro.
pieces of meat, lumps of coal, pieces of a smile, spare song.
parts of speech, pieces of parliament, bits of rain, parts of the fire is out.

Everyone is the blacksmith of his defeat, each deserves its fate.

Everyone is a child of his time, each is an accomplice of his destiny.

Everyone is a child of his defeat, everyone is free with his destiny.

Each brings his cross, everyone stumbles on his way.

Everyone wants to burn like, everyone is victim and murderess.

Close your eyes and go in Africa Celestino "

YOU LOOK 2010!
SE SON accomplice of my destiny, I choose
, CELESTINE O!

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REMOTE MIRROR

I remember those days of blood and sweat
bound hand and feet from a meaningless and irresponsible zeal.

I thought you were, you think so,
and for a time it seemed to me a pure and sincere feeling.

But your way was lost, different, confusing, far from my
, which climbed to a different way.

I was looking for the sun, colors, magic,
I needed a partner who shared my same energy.

not was you, I know now,
time has passed, the love is gone, the distance
taught me, guided and raised.

But I have not stopped looking, I continue to explore,
my wings are always ready to fly.

I remember those days of blood and sweat,
and despite the hard work I bless my passion.
Today ...... waiting for another great love,
peaceful path toward my best day.

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while I talked and talked, I watched you.

I felt the joy growing inside, stroking the skin
the passion and imagination

flown over its wings.


as I spoke and I spoke, I watched your eyes,
my picture, my sister, a mirror in your eyes,
the bottom of your eyes my butterfly and my
fields of daisies.


while I talked and talked, I played with your lips red and soft,
negative than mine.
The words came out dancing with the colors of the rainbow,
hot and throbbing like my fire,
fresh and light as the breeze in Spring.


while I talked and talked, I said goodbye,
piece of my heart, yours for eternity. Other
arms welcome me, tell me another soul
unknown and unexplored.

Then came the silence, I will appease
calm and go home.

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MY PERSONAL FIRE PRINCE

Do not look with blue tights,
I never liked you prefer just as you are a casual sophisticated and original, unmistakable.

on your horse there I go, you know it?
But both will be great to throw at a gallop on the sea shore
and see who arrives first to the cliff. Deal?

do not believe that the only pretended to faint to kiss me.
If I want to do it, I'll stun you with all the fervor and passion that my match and I expect you do the same.

I will never be at home with her knitting in anticipation of your return, but
go out to fight for you and I will support you with my courage, with your split the world.


am a half, but not buggy, nor the smallest, only that
different and proud of it, which together with yours,
closes and completes the circle.

Understand, Recognize and apprezzami ...
will build my happy face on your chest,
I lose you in the night to meet in the evening,
and together we will make the world better.

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know various types of Fire.

What burns, what little warmer,
what turns on and turns off soon after.

There are also those drawn,
those on the beach with friends ...
or inside the soul of the happy thoughts.

Sometimes they are as colorful sweaters,
soft, warm and very sophisticated.

A fire is to be fed, with passion and attention,
is a child who loved you, warms my heart to those who have taken care of.

There is a fire of passion, fire
disappointment,
fire on the skin,
the fire in the guts ...
the fire of the mother squeezes her child
fire that rises slowly in the fireplace.

A fire is a dream under the covers, and color that animates
my limbs open.

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Lying on the bed thinking.

Gioiosa had always been her figure,
stars in her hair and eyes colored butterflies.

The fearless heart, a dedicated field of daisies to her daughters, a raspberry
mouth juicy, greedy for words.

curious ears, hidden in her hair, played between music and silence.

long hands and arms extended to embrace the world,
and legs ... the legs on the run, as fast as the indomitable and thoughts.

eyed studying the world,
stones of the stream, bright and flickering ...
and the world she was studying, inappropriate and intrusive at times,
other wonderful teacher.

feet were flying fast, unstable, light and upset,
sometimes too small to support any of its fragments.

Looking in the mirror and saw reflected in rainbow
dark moonless nights, endless meadows
climb hills and inviting
barricades here and there ... Inside

kept all the good and the bad that life had yet got drunk and had no any distinction.

He understood that it should be, all had been his solution,
white and black together, tears and laughter, the same day and night .. no wrong choice.
life he had lived intensely, the acceptance at the end was his way, the child inside the instrument.

fell asleep happy, finally at peace, dedicating her most beautiful smile to them, that he had ever loved.

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PUZZLE OF LOVE MY FATHER '

My Dad is a strong type! Sometimes
laughs like a madman and me playing with the war, he threw himself on the ground and we are fighting. Then with the Mickey Mouse mask chasing me around the house, I hide
and he can never find me, I always win. With him I enjoy it so much.
This morning, however, is really strange. He prepared the bag inside the mask and my gun, but does not want to play with me, is getting dressed to go out and
told me to go back to sleep, it is still early.

He found someone else to play with? Maybe I did something and are being punished?
I pretend to sleep while in bed I'm putting on her sweatpants. If you think you leave home, they're wrong.
In silence, while he was in the bathroom, shut the door softly and run down to the garage, where is his van. Behind
there is so much space, so curled up, not going to notice me, I'm sure.

is coming, schtttt ....
opens the door and quickly threw the bag on the seat. Mickey Mouse's ears sticking out of his pocket in front. The espionage between the two seats. It 's all sweaty! Maybe he is wearing is too heavy or ill. Who knows where we are going.
do a bit of street here and then it stops.
The door is a little hard and I struggle to open it, but now they are out and see him there, in front of the glass palace, still. I follow him out without me, hide and are very good.
What is this strange place, but ... A fat lady

surges from inside a closet, "help, help but laugh ... "....
I look around. My dad is walking with the bag in hand, looking everywhere, perhaps looking for his friend and not finding anything.
will be the lady with the blue shoes? no ... how can run with those heels ... or that man with those beautiful clothes, all over tan? ... no, not even he can be, it gets dirty
everything. And that beautiful young lady, with her hair and eyes from mom? ... Boh, laughing with the man who gives her money, I do not see my own dad.
Maybe it's the grandfather with the newspaper in his hand? No, too old, he can not go fast, let alone to jump to the ground ...

The glass door opens suddenly. Enter a tall gentleman, a round hat on his head, a waxy coat and suspenders on the ruby \u200b\u200bred striped shirt.
Here at last, I knew it!
All are watching the strange ladies, including my dad, who at the same time also sees me! I found out!
The ladies pulls out a box from a strange instrument and began playing, so good, but so well, that looks like a television.
All mouths are wide open and even the gentlemen who count the money from behind their desks, are getting close to listen better.

I am curious and looking at my dad will be angry with me?! But
really wants to play war with this man?
The Mask of mouse is still in the bag and gun ......... maybe not even the shadow is a new game.

Here it comes towards me ..
takes my hand and get closer to the lord that sounds.
It is no longer alone, there is another man near him, and two play a music so beautiful you could cry and laugh and dance together.
My dad gives me the mask. We get to dance and others, one by one, they party with us.
I'm really happy to have followed him, is a beautiful game and I'm really enjoying ... you never know why once carried a gun ...

E 'own strong my dad!

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third

He returned distraught, tried by a tiring day.
He wondered why having to endure so much unnecessary pressure.

Get in third position ...
How many wars had lost the battle by winning the most stupid dell'assecondare his ego and his emotions?

How can practice not to take everything head on, not to make every event a personal matter with those who did not deserve it at all, even when the game was much more
?....
How not to show his side when he felt hurt or not respected, making it clear to his heart and not just the brain, or vice versa, which is not meant to submit or not to prove authenticity, but take a step back and observe far?

Questions, questions, questions still unanswered. At least now
was aware of the problem and a solution found over time would certainly, as always when he stopped to look.

was like a rush and he knew it, he bent over, even down to the ground, had happened many times, but it is not broke.

He slept quietly with his eyes on the usual butterflies, which fly in his dreams from his bedroom wall of green, would have led with grace and lightness until the morning, ready to open their eyes and confident greeting a new day.

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MATRIOSKA





- "Angela, Angela ... where you want me to bring?" - The small
small room of course our host sat nearby, waiting for you, Angela, our teacher creative writing, leads us to explore our imagination ....

- "Let's see - he said with his usual pen to his mouth ajar, looking within themselves for hidden treasures as tools in the basket of a circus border -" Two people: characteristics, age, description -

- "That's great , can you choose me this time! "- I think to myself satisfied and now I see them take shape in my thoughts

CHILD - big dark eyes, a lot of hair matted, eyes curious and intelligent, five years.
SIOUX INDIAN - Age not identified, fired and wrinkled skin, eyes deep and fierce, long hair and shiny blacks.

- "The situation give it to me: a public place" -
disappears for a moment in the closet of mysteries, where a thousand things of every kind waiting to take life, even for a small moment of recognition, and comes up with something in his hand.
- "The character will receive a package that someone you see who, how and why, has left for him. Soon I'll show you what it contains" -.
_ "Start" - said she visibly amused - "you have half an hour."




The Indian was alone, sitting under the big tree, his legs crossed,
silent meditation, drums in the heart and skin,
wind in my eyes ....

Suddenly a flash of light
VISION ... .. ANOTHER TIME ... ANOTHER WORLD ...

The fast food is American, everything is extremely fast, darting, superficial
smells and chatter incessantly.

Sitting on a stool unlikely, the Indian sage asked for water.


- "stop!" - Angela said looking at us one by one and discarding it from its wrapping paper.
peeps a painting, photography black and white of a boy or a girl, about 5 years, mouth ajar, sguado tender and sweet.


- "What a strange custom" - thought the waiter, handing that package that someone who knows who, had left for him - "of course you could not confuse the recipient, a Sioux Indian" - she murmured to herself perplexed - "and where you see them now?" -

fast-running horse looked at him in silence, holding out his hand rough and baked by the sun. Questions were not needed, a few words are enough when you have the heart and mind open.
knew that would cross his eyes and saw again discard the torn in the photo, that puppy of a man with his young and naive curiosity.
Here alone, in search of the street ... A new glow

e. .. finally was the fragrance of the forest to wind it, the smell of resin and vegetation with its noise, its music distinctive, so unique, so sweet. The Indian

deep breath, beads of sweat on his forehead, his eyes wandered a long way from under his eyelids, watching the long-awaited meeting, to be known as magical magical life when you live with courage.

The eyes of the child laughed happily, grateful, had long sought in the forest, as long fast-running horse, had called him inside her ..

The vision was slowly fading, finally the great and wise man within him had embraced the small and happy child who was so long ago.
She felt invaded by a very sweet and strong, strong as a rock.

opening eyes the two images were superimposed within him finally, embrace for eternity, reconciled, enriched resolved .. and now felt ready now so that it would be the Big Boss who was born to become.


ANGELA. Again! Mamma mia still there?
- "So far all is well. But it was all a dream ..." - What a pain in the ass! - I smile - what a wonderful pain in the ass! "




I turn and I turn around, 'Ste sheets, every time rolled on me as to want to retain them too!
I open my eyes, the darkness gently caress me, respectful of thoughts still asleep.
... Then I dreamed I was him, I was not there ....

Last night, before sleeping, the request was clear:
... show me the way ... let me know what ....

And then with the abandonment had arrived in India, so familiar to me, so 'known witness of distant memories of past lives ... and the child, that child a little scared and in pain, with expanses of inside daisies and butterflies, butterflies and light colored, waiting to be freed. I walked two hours
accomplices, hand in hand, complete, different faces of the same diamond that, like me, can not be denied even in only one of its facets without losing brilliance ...

thank Universe, message received.

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The girl was there, eyes wide open on the world like someone who does not want to miss anything, red cheeks, marked by wind and a few strokes, the subtle pleasure
drawn on his face at the thought of a new story.
When the voice, warm and reassuring began to tell, as if by magic, everything changed size .................

The leaves flew hundreds of English in the fall, red and cold, the house was a white building Victorian, usually well-maintained park, everything in the right place.
Beth and Jim turned the house aimlessly, she with her ridiculous hat with feather, he always dressed like the old tweed jacket.

were looking for something desperately, had promised her and now rummaging in every corner like truffle dogs, without any idea of \u200b\u200bwhere they can find it. Wherever
flowers, lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums and their scent that accompanied the house from room to room, making it an enchanted castle during a treasure hunt.

Beth looked in the bathroom, opened the cupboard .. lipstick hardened by time rolled on the ground, breaking into two pieces.
Jim was in the bathroom, for whatever strange thought had the same idea, basically it was a really unusual place to hide such an object, perhaps because of that, sometimes unlikely path follows the mind, an enigma in the enigma.

The phone rang, half as trivial as possible to request the application of his discovery?

Beth and Jim were in the closet, another old tweed jacket hanging on, even forgotten in pockets .. but no key ... on the other hand were certainly not looking for any key, but the key there ... really then?
.. The little girl thought so.
was a common key on the outside, color, common, common equipment, common dimensions ... but opened a door easy to find.
"A promise is a promise" - Beth said "you can not cheat." The little explorer
wanted the world and there would have accompanied them, with joy and love, uphill and downhill, for better or for worse, these were the conditions, this promise, this in turn implied the expectation children.

continued to try .. and try and try and try, the phone would ring, the ideas ran fast, it was almost evening, the shadows of twilight colored white walls.
They sat down exhausted, abandoned to silence, looking into the void of the room response.
Mirror watched them from enormous living room wall, reflected candles, flowers as a framework.

Then ... a sudden glow, and here it is reflected. Finally! The key
! The key to take the baby! ... then he was right on the small, there was ...
really seemed like any other, but opened the doors of the world and was a way to use his secret:
the door was open to the interior, where there was everything, everything you need, not outward.

The voice spoke again, calm, deep, reassuring the child is relaxed, a sigh and a smile on her face, she had always known, like all children, adults forget
only with time:
"Do not you must see to believe, we must believe to see "..
This was the key to discovering and how to use it one at a time, would open all doors.

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plane go down inside me,
shadows in my room and green fields of daisies,
the flickering candle draws on the wall and tree branches and leaves,
like in a fairy dance ..

I see myself running away, with the eyes of imagination,
wild horse, beautiful, elegant e.. Free, free,
the coat shiny, his eyes fierce, his mane ruffled by a light wind ..
then suddenly ... still, waiting .. quivering nostrils ..
fear thin air, but also curiosity.

I see a distant presence, I do not know if good or bad, the usual question: why on my path?
In his hands a saddle and bridle and blinders colored, as if beauty could in any way distract from the pain of a limited freedom. He smiles and speaks softly
man with cowboy boots, respects my time, but every now and then stops with the bridle which is approaching.
do not understand.
I trust, let them do it .. there seems to be a promise in our meeting.

pain ... but the saddle, discomfort ...
blinders on and why? I look at everything, look at the endless .......
and the reins? Oh I do not know what to do .... Instinct or penalty, or try to escape even reliable?
Discipline, discipline, step by step, slowly, my rules ... ............... can not breathe that hard ...........

A glow .... time to time the familiar voice whispers, it is impossible to know now and understand .... and everything disappears in a flash.

Here again, daisies, sigh of relief, air, meadows that run away up the hill, how nice sunset, sweet silence,
distant music accompanying the fiery red ball that lights up the horizon of many colors, will soon be dark.

butterfly wings run on walls, greeted again by the green room,
candle light, now worn, warns that it is night, the time to let things happen slowly, Since, so I have to learn, with quiet,
one day at a time, one day at a time.

I abandoned
close my eyes, and then

gently whisper in the darkness of my prayers ...

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Another trip, another flight, another goal. My this time.
I come home at last ........................................
It 's a strange sadness ... my sweet, purposeful.

I look at the top aware that once reached, there will be another ....
life is the journey not the arrival, I know.

In the bag I want all the colors of the rainbow, butterflies, music, words of truth, love and laughter
, laughter, laughter reading ...

instead I'll leave hypocrisy, deceit, all the "I" that serve no purpose, pessimism.

The meeting that I want along the way, between a shrub and the other in the light that filters through the leaves
clear, is with the mirror of myself, the half that makes complete and perfect
, two arms that accept finally my being a woman and child,
irreverent and original but also naive, soft female for years protected from prying eyes ...
how nice I can finally entrust.

What I want to learn is humility in the way ...............
the magnitude of the imperfection that makes us free from all slavery ....
my expectations and those of others and of others, the recovery of the rules violated and then made their choice.

Parto ..
'm ready ..
a smile on his face. In the heart
love and a little 'fear.
But I'm ready ..... I love to travel!

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Highway ....
reordered the way of words, rebalanced, arranged ....
drive always relaxes me, helps me to think, to understand better ...

Guido e. .. Experience the love for my daughters, accepting its opposite ......

think back to the stories of my grandfather, his low voice full of love, who welcomed me tenderly on the front door, his pen in the pocket, the jingle of his keys in the background, old time music box went smoothly yet .......

I see the picture of Klimt in my green room, the butterflies that fly on the wall, the irony of fate that guides me in paths rough but also very intriguing ...

Guido ancora.senza half on the highway .. ..
and again the miracle does ....
words are back in their place and my eyes even more clear.

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Here I am.
invent my platform and hence confinement.
I hope you enjoy flying with me .. the flight alone is spectacular .. but as I realized recently ..
together is perfection.

Barbara

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COLLECTION OF POEMS AND PICTURES. The poetry anthology "The colors between the lines" by Tiziana Baricco goes through a journey, dedicated to the rooms open and closed femminile.Ogni subject matter of the mind is colored by emotions, gestures, geometric shapes to merge rationality and instinct of women in a context of light and shadow. The peculiarity of the work lies in the approach of each poem to an aphorism (or drop of poetry) that from further food for thought to the messages transmitted in the verses.

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