Tag: Da Capo al Fine

Little Red

Through the long-forgotten forest
Hide and seek let’s go and play.
I’ll be Little Red and you’ll be
The Big Bad Wolf. Come, let us play! | Fine

No one has to know our secret,
It’s a little game we play.
And the big, forgotten forest’s
Just the right place, like always.

Count to ten and I’ll start running,
But don’t peek or else I’ll pout!
I’ll make sure to let you win but
I want to put up a fight.

I will hide among the mushrooms
And you’ll pass by me unfazed
By the red caps and the white dots
Camouflaging me for now.

Then I’ll sneak behind your back and
Hop towards my nana’s house
With my basket full of goodies
That you—famished—want to steal.

And I’ll hop among the green ferns
Covering my body whole.
You won’t see me but you’ll pick up
My vague scent and follow it.

I will hear your famished howl
And will hurry along the path.
I’ll make sure to find a stone to
Clumsily trip over and fall.

While I cry over my scraped knees,
You will show your big white teeth.
I’ll forget my now-spilled basket
And hide in my nana’s arms.

You’ll come pound on our locked door and
Growl how it’s all unfair,
While we’re safe between our four walls,
Sighing relieved that I’ve won.

Oh, don’t worry, there’s a next time!
Promise, I will let you win!
One day. But for now, I want to
Live to see another day.

Come, come, our little game is
Lots of fun, don’t you agree?
I let you catch up to me and
Make the chase be worth the wait.

That way, when you’ll finally catch me,
All your horrid pent-up rage
Will ensure that I won’t suffer
For too long. It’s only fair.

Come now, daddy, you will win soon!
There’s no huntsman with a gun
To protect us from your big arms,
Your big ears and eyes and teeth!

Come now, daddy, I’ll make sure to
Let you win when nana’s gone
Just like mommy. You won’t have to
See her in me every day.

But for now, I’ll just be selfish
For a little while more.
I still want to play tomorrow,
So let’s play when I come home!

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Summer Nights

On a summer night, the child
Gazed at twinkling stars above.
He laid on a golden haystack,
Listening to crickets chirp. ǀ Fine

Suddenly, from veils of darkness,
Falling stars began to dance,
Heading towards the world of humans—
All asleep but one who dreamt.

He jumped down, touching the soft grass,
And began to chase the stars.
He would find out where they landed
And would watch their final dance.

So, he ran through fields of harvest,
Through the village, past his home,
Through the mountains and the forests,
Only looking to the sky.

Never tired, filled with wonder,
He gained strength from watching them.
Barefoot, but not feeling sharp stones,
Not needing to stop or rest.

He ran till he reached the sea shore,
Standing now on golden sand,
Where water began its kingdom,
Where the bright stars would soon land.

He watched as they touched the water,
Disappearing in the night.
One by one, their first encounter
Was also the last of this kind.

When the last star met the cold waves,
It was dark again on Earth.
Gazing back at constellations,
The child followed them back home.

He laid down between his parents,
In the quiet of their home.
Just before the sunrise started,
Just before the crack of dawn.

He was fast asleep before that,
Entering the world of dreams.
Till nightfall would come back once more,
He dreamt of stars being born.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

The Storyteller

He travelled the Earth in his search for delight,
Observing the people as they tried to decide
What path would be better to lead them in life,
What fate to create for themselves under the sunlight. ǀ Fine

He carried his satchel, for that’s all he had,
As he gathered stories, travelling far.
He heard all their burdens and saw all the tears,
And took them with him as he travelled the seas.

He saw their warm smiles in moments of joy;
Their strong, joyous laughter which lit up the room.
He carried their stories to others like them,
To others so different who could understand.

Their dances, their struggles, their days in the rain,
Their castles, their cattle, their crops for the day.
At night by the fire, when songs would be sung,
The burdens—forgotten when under the stars.

Their moments together, their moments apart,
Their fights and their quarrels, their fears, their love.
These raw, unique glimpses inside their short lives
He captured and carried with him—in his heart.

He told them to others—it brought him pure joy,
For he felt alive through them, their spirit he loved.
He captured their magic and spread it around,
To bring joy to others—like the one he had found.

New people, new stories, new times which would come:
He’d meet with the magic they brought—one by one.
He travelled and listened, he travelled and told
The stories of those who were put on this Earth.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Freedom at Sea

WhatsApp Image 2019-02-28 at 21.11.13

I’ve had the dream a thousand times,
It goes like this: I’m near the sea,
I’m on the sand, open my eyes
And hear the waves just calling me. ǀ Fine

A transformation then occurs:
Metamorphosis of the soul.
The sea defines and also blurs
The lines of who I am and was.

My heart beats faster, breaks the cage,
Growing and thus setting me free.
It’s here, it’s now, no more delays,
No tightened strings controlling me.

So, I forget the life I had,
There’s no one else to hold me back.
Just what I love awaits ahead,
Beauty and nature, day and night.

I start my dance on waves of blue,
Their lacey white giving me hope.
I’m free at last, I’ve found my truth
Among the sea foam and the salt.

I’m one with water, with the sky,
I venture in their kingdom’s heart,
As seagulls give out welcoming cries;
I feel at home in this work of art.

I fly, I soar, I dance, I waltz,
So happy, free! Ecstatic, free!
I’m there until the crack of dawn,
Until nightfall—felicity.

I wish the dream went on and on,
But I wake up as moonlight bathes
My soul—and I return to my own world,
The sea—so far, the night—so late.

And I resume my passing life,
But I go back when moonlight calls,
When crashing waves await my touch,
When secret worlds once more unfold.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Secret Place

In the darkness of the forest
Lies a still and hidden lake.
Water—clear, reflecting moonlight,
Waves—begun by stardust flakes.

I approach the secret painting,
Fascinated by its world.
I come closer to the water
And I hear the unsung notes. ǀ Fine

Silent painting full of music,
I am drawn to its lone sound.
I hear strings, the lake is calling,
Pulling me towards its world.

Barefoot, I approach the water—
So mysterious, so pure.
It caresses fragile footsteps,
Stillness: no longer endured.

I step onto mirror surface,
And to dance I thus begin,
I don’t sink in empty darkness,
As the magic sounds I feel.

And the music becomes louder,
Coming closer to my soul.
I dance on the sky’s reflection,
Setting free the thoughts I bore.

I can touch the world that’s up there,
That of suns, of stars, of gold;
In-between two worlds, two wonders,
I can feel that I’m reborn.

Music, peace and something greater:
I can touch infinity,
As the sky, the lake, the music
Form a world of purity.

I dance until rays of sunlight
Start their journey towards Earth.
I awaken, music gone now
And return to ancient shore.

Everything then disappears,
A mirage it seemed to be.
But I know the truth that happens
When the nightfall comes to be.

I will hear the music’s calling
Once again when sunset comes.
Ancient trail will lead me to it,
Among new suns I will dance.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Canvas in the Night

The night sky once again awaits
To be a canvas of the soul;
A world of dreams it will portray,
As all the stars I now control. ǀ Fine

I take a breath and paint the moon,
A regal vision—only her;
A smile now waltzes on my lips:
The queen will reign from dusk till dawn.

I take the paintbrush yet again
And paint a dance of falling stars;
They travel to the ends of Earth;
Although new-born, they travel far.

I paint a sea of gleaming gold
And watch the waves send warming light
Towards the world I hold so dear,
That’s never been so still and bright.

And, star by star, my universe
Turns into galaxies of dreams.
I paint and paint—the canvas full,
Awakening forgotten tears.

I paint until the morning sun
Sends rays of daylight from afar.
My painting fades, I close my eyes;
I will return and cover scars.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

The Traveller

He had been facing icy winds
For hours, just as time stood still;
He had survived the blizzard’s cuts
Thus far—and now he had no will. ǀ Fine

The sea of snow, a deadly white,
Seemed endless as he looked around;
The sky—unseen, covered in clouds,
The ground – below, not to be found.

The howling winds, the howling wolves:
Both enemies of life they were.
No way to go or to escape,
His future: still to guess—unknown.

Defeated, tired, he gave up
And laid back in the bed of cold.
Wanting to rest a little just,
He thought of what this would unfold.

He was aware that with closed eyes,
The sleep of death would surely come.
And yet sweet dreams would wait beyond
And no more pain—all would be gone.

His eyelids fluttered one last time,
As sleep began to lower them.
All would soon end, as death arrived,
And he could hear the requiem.

He smiled as he death embraced
And travelled to the world of dreams.
His heart stood still, engulfed in ice,
As snow covered his final fears.

As he stood still, time now began
To slowly pass, while winter stayed,
And snowflakes covered every trace
Creating, thus, his hidden grave.

Another came, wanting to face
White deserts and his sealed fate,
Adventuring in deadly lands
Until it soon would be too late.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Children of the Sea

At the bottom of the sea,
Where the light touches the sand,
Magic happens—purity—
Giving life to precious pearls. ǀ Fine

Lively mermaids watch in awe
As the pearls are kissed by light,
As they then begin to glow:
Children of the sea they are.

They explore the liquid blue,
As they hopeful dreams collect;
Then return to what is true,
To their home, their place of birth.

They build castles of the sea,
Corals of a vivid pink,
Kingdom of felicity:
Only laughter, love and joy.

Every day, their steps decrease,
Shorter distances they go,
As time passes by and leaves,
As they age: closer to home.

Till one day when they return
From their journey, one last time,
Coming back to what is home,
Having fully lived their lives.

One with pink they then become,
Part of something that’s unique,
Something greater than the sun,
For they are magic and bliss.

Born from magic, light and salt,
Precious pearls caressed by life,
Now as corals and sea foam:
Wonder—cycle of delight.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Painting Hall

I walk inside the painting hall:
It’s time to see the past again. ǀ Fine
Time to remember, to recall
Who I was then, in ink and pen.

I look at paintings of the past,
Ancient, but still a trace of truth.
I know what paintbrush I can trust,
Myself in memories I lose.

I then walk to the mirror hall,
To see the present, yet again.
Who I am now I will recall,
An image of evolving when.

I look at mirrors of the now,
Reflections of a passing me,
Remembering to notice how
This all will soon be memory.

Each image from the mirror hall
Tomorrow will be found again,
As painting it will take its form,
Becoming, thus, an ancient when.

I walk inside the window hall,
Future to make from what I see.
I step beyond the timeless door,
Making my dreams reality.

Each day I walk inside the halls,
Remembering from where I’ve come,
Remembering where I am now
And what my dreams in this world are.

Until one day, when I’ll be gone,
Leaving behind a painting hall
To show the truth: what I’ve become,
The truth that’s hidden in my core.

I leave behind a legacy,
That of my own, of my own kind,
For he who’ll walk the halls like me,
A world of dreams to seek and find.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

Legacy

The artist paints with tremor
His final masterpiece. ǀ Fine
With undefeated spirit,
He knows he’s met true bliss.

And one last time, the canvas,
So white and welcoming
Awaits its transformation,
The silence—deafening.

He picks his trusted paintbrush,
Extension of his own,
The instrument of giving,
Carved out of his own soul.

And traces of creation
He starts to leave behind,
A legacy of feelings
Passed down from his own kind.

Gathered for generations,
The colours are within.
A spring of endless water:
His undefeated dreams.

This is the final lesson,
His pupil is prepared.
His presence won’t be needed
Once his art is unveiled.

He’ll be one with his paintings,
Guiding his pupil’s hand,
Just like his own was guided
By his own master’s hand.

Each one of them is stronger,
As knowledge is preserved,
The artist is the artist,
But greater: he evolves.

The hand once more caresses
The world born from his thoughts.
The painting is complete now,
He feels it and he knows.

He takes his final form now,
Empties the sacred seat.
Only a spark of lightning,
A guardian—complete.

Once more awaits the canvas,
A new day has begun.
The time flies with its wings spread,
Until it comes undone.

Once more evolves the artist,
Once more he gives his all,
Once more he paints his feelings,
Until his final dawn.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia