Category: Poetry

Poetry is one of my passions. In my blog, I will publish poems which I wrote. Hence I opened a separate category for poetry.

During the years, I’ve read Italian, English, American, and French poems because, during my childhood, I learned those three languages. Only recently, I started writing poetry which I never wanted to publish. I believe that it is very personal to publish them.

Although I’m a physicist, I started to read poetry during high school, mainly in Italian and English. Only home I was reading French books. Indeed, the French language and literature were not in my school program.

Writing poetry is one of the most intimate ways to express feelings and moods. Time to time, I will publish poems.

Mournful Shadows

In the stillness of the night, the sky was stormy and overcrowded with lightning and thunder. Rain was pouring down, and the wind was impetuous.

The exquisite scent of rainwater perfumed my small chamber from which I glimpsed the dark and stormy landscape.

Chaos and order alternated in my bleak soul, full of grief. A piercing funereal pain had gripped my entire essence.

Intrusive thoughts and faded hopes crowded my mind as if they were unwelcome intruders, not invited by me.

Joy and darkness unfolded like buds in my soul, becoming thorny briars that wounded my heart and tore apart my being.

The bright sun, dethroned in the sky by great threatening and dark clouds in a midsummer storm, was no longer on my visual horizon, making me reflect on my bleak and mortal fate, which condemned me to a sense of perpetual anguish.

It was as if I had lost the ability to express all that I felt in my heart, the most hidden secrets and concealed truths that I had never been able to reveal to any mortal.

My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

Mournful shadows ruled over me.
They were the ones who decided my path and my fate.
They were invisible, yet present—and immensely powerful.
I felt like a doll, a puppet, at the mercy of their whimsical desires and decisions.

And so I perished,
by the hand of my own fears,
by the hand of my own funeral anguish,
And I became a mournful shadow myself,
No different from the others.
Elisabetta

July 5, 2025
With A Shadowed Soul

With a shadowed soul and a heart in pieces,
I proceeded without direction and without refuge
In the vast expanse of works of eternal beauty and magnificence,
In my solitude, misunderstood and isolated,
shunned for my identity,
always having to hide like a creature invisible to mortals,
yet present and alive,
With a heart burning like an unquenchable flame.

Deafening noises haunted me,
And I sought to hide as far away as possible
In a clearing of unquenchable and precious peace.
I dodged mortals, I dodged their wicked and illusory souls;
beings I deemed unworthy even of their glance upon me.

The thorns of my sorrows pressed into my heart,
making it bleed.
It had become like a kind of gigantic sculpture
that radiated pain and the weight of life,
But also ardour and passion.

The envy and jealousy of petty, tainted beings
left traces of filth and decay
upon my veil of protection and innocence.
The sacredness and devotion of my heart
had been contaminated and defiled
by their greed and rotting wickedness.

Their twisted faces bore a grin of satisfaction
and, at the same time, of bitter corruption,
to the point that their faces were disfigured
by sores and deformities,
as if they had contracted leprosy
or some terrifying disease.

My search for untainted love and the sublime had become impossible,
for the shadows of these monsters,
whose cruelties towards me were unparalleled and horrific,
obstructed the view and the landscape
to the point that I could see no more,
And the fog filled my eyes,
And I saw only darkness—
The vastness of oblivion tried to swallow me.

By now, the veils of illusion had fallen to the ground,
And I could see reality as it truly was,
For those bitter disappointments I was experiencing
In those very moments of contrition
had helped me to see those malevolent and dreadful souls
for what they truly were.

With a shadowed soul, I remained abashed,
standing at the edge where hope and despair are mashed.
Elisabetta

July 4, 2025
The Realm Of Absurdities And Contradictions

The realm of absurdities and contradictions
A world of pure bliss and madness
Where dreams get lost and illusions blossom like flowers
And in the abyss of despair and fear,
The anguish held me trapped by their chains,
With which they cruelly clung to me
In their realm of darkness and madness.
I, with all my heart, sought a successful way,
a means to survive those unjust torments,
But in my hands, I could not find
a path of salvation and hope.

The chasm before me made me glimpse my death.
My future was marked as if my time were numbered,
as if I could not enjoy the small moments
That touched my mind,
because of torment and the certainty of perishing
overwhelmed my heart and clouded my mind.

Shadows surrounded my figure as if they could confine me
to a territory that belonged to them,
scrutinising me with their cold and cynical gazes,
Speaking a language I did not understand
and whispering legends whose secrets I would never know.

The sound of footsteps following me
brought to mind all those dreadful encounters
whose wickedness tore away a part
of my veil of innocence and integrity.

The sound of out-of-tune music boxes and grotesque melodies
created images of folly and paradoxes,
for I found myself in the realm of absurdities and contradictions
where beauty was usurped by horror
and where integrity was usurped by corruption.

In this realm of hanging trees and hieratic statues,
fires and flames burned unquenched
like the brilliant stars in the sky
whirling swiftly in the firmament above me,
illuminating the dry, hooked branches
of a twisted tree beneath whose shadow I had lain.

Absurdity had become the sovereign of my fate.
I was now at the mercy of capricious winds and rather contradictory events,
Just as my miserable existence was entirely controversial.
Elisabetta

July 4, 2025
The Well Of Phantom Wishes

The well of phantom wishes
Was the well of my disappointments
Of all those illusions
That had deceived me
In a malevolent way
With their allure
And their way of
Misleading me
With fake smiles and phrases
Like lines from a script
But in truth, it was all fake
Every single thing
And every
One I had known, glimpsed
Were nothing but
Delusional
Realities
Beneath
A deception
A cruel deception
That dragged me down
Into that well
So deep and so dark
That I could not glimpse
Any
Vision
Any hope

My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
That beauty I had once cherished within me
had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.

What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
that moved around me but I could never reach.

One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.

The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.

My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
Elisabetta

July 2, 2025
The Tower Of Whispers

The tower of whispers is my longed-for and, at the same time, rejected place. It is where I felt at home but also strange, where, at times, states of euphoria and joy were constrained by sadness and deep melancholy mixed with grief.

In the distance, I heard the chiming of faraway churches and the birds chirping around me. Yet I was trapped in this tower of desires and grudges, hopes and disappointments, expectations but also the deepest anguishes, and memories—a tower full of memories, sweet yet mournful.

I shuddered between amazement and dream, my anxieties, my fears were wrapped around me and almost forming bonds, invisible chains that held me still and at the same time in awe because of a situation of stability where joy and pain mixed into a single essence.

The echo of various voices thundered in my head, in this dark tower of whispers. It seemed that time had stopped when I realised I could no longer see my reflection in any mirror because I no longer had an image. I had lost my original features and had transformed into something undefined.

I had become a creature of a thousand personalities and moods, and I had fallen into a vortex of shadows and decay from which, no matter how much I tried to escape, I could not free myself. It was these shadows that seemed to reflect my thoughts and my anguish.

My heart did not know passion. My sleep was… disturbed by monstrous creatures… that… afflicted pains to my heart and body… every time… I clung… to a desire for joy and peace… and hope.

And so the rest of eternity unfolded before me as if I were a passive spectator with eyes without tears, but with a heart full of anguish, feelings, sadness, and regrets.
Elisabetta

July 1, 2025
Buried Memories

Buried memories unearthed in my subconscious during my journeys of lost and unknown dreams in places and times unknown to me and of which I perceived only fragments of memory that I kept to myself.

Joys and sorrows dwelled in my heart, which knew no peace, and was constantly pierced by anguish and anxiety, as well as sorrowful memories full of resentment and regrets.

I woke up with the anguish of memories and the worries that clung to me like invisible chains.
And the clock struck ten past ten,
It seemed as though the bells had rung,
And the stillness around me revealed
How my anxieties and anguish were fleeting realities,
And though heavy, they could vanish into nothingness.

The sadness—or melancholy, as it may be defined by words—was like an endless abyss within my heart, and it was that very sadness which had carved deep wounds that continued to bleed and had never healed. Time, in the end, had not fulfilled its duty, and the oblivion of my pains and sufferings had not completed its task.

Lying in an inhospitable and unknown cemetery, I found myself in my solitude and in the most deafening silence.
The crimson mist hovered around like a spirit both present and dominant within that mysterious and twilight aura.

I felt how anguish mingled with my fears, as if, despite having lost everything, I would… I had doubted whether to descend further into the abyss of despair.

And as the wind enveloped me in its coldness and its silent softness, so, in the very same moment, it was as though I had found myself in a new reality, a new realm, unfamiliar to me.

If I were to find myself in the realm of lost, recovered, buried and unearthed memories, I would not know it—nor shall I ever—for my visions were like hallucinations, as if all of it were born of my own fantasies, my nocturnal nightmares, and my waking daydreams.
Elisabetta

June 28, 2025
The Vault Of Forsaken Keys

The vault of forsaken keys was the place of shadows and mysteries, of wisdom and madness, and where the keys of all the world, beyond the earthly and the earthly, were kept. It is not known to what or to whom they belonged, yet they seemed to guard secrets that no one could know.

As dark and gloomy as this cavern of fantasy and greed might seem, of recession and generosity, it had a particular charm, a sobriety so composed that it impressed me for the order and at the same time the madness that hovered in those ancient and decrepit halls.

The scent of incense and ancient metal impregnated the air, which was coloured by semi-shadows, by metallic reflections that the shadows cast upon the walls.

The endless and long corridors spread out into an infinite labyrinth impossible to decipher. Without being able to find an exact direction. But one constant thing was the vision of a light like a perpetual faint glow at the end of these corridors. And the more I proceeded, the more I found no end. It was as if I had remained trapped in that underground and undefined place from which I was certain I could no longer escape. Because in fact there was no way out. And I was destined to become one of the countless and anonymous metal keys arranged on the walls.

My freedom had been devoured by that unnamed and unfindable place. My troubles and cries were worth nothing, I only lost my breath. It was as if gradually I was losing the faculty to perceive my breath. And it was as if I was transforming into something else.

I never knew if I was dreaming. I never knew if I was a common mortal, a being born on a planet. Or, instead, I was the fruit of my own imagination and I do not know what I was, what I had originated from. I too felt like one of those countless keys, in that vault of forsaken keys.
Elisabetta

June 27, 2025
The Arcane Forest

The arcane forest was my place of refuge. It oozed with enchantments, and the trees did not possess a name. It was a place where I became invisible and mortal while still retaining my physical form.

Softly, the wind whispered to me its hidden secrets, but I could not grasp their meaning. Such was my daze.

The large clouds were gathering under a grey tone, and all the shades of white contrasted with the blue of the sky. The sound of the streams was like a melody which, however, had a gloomy and at times sinister sound. As if it reflected the image of my heart.

Lost in my anguish and obsessive thoughts, I was seeking direction in that vast green and dark expanse, although the sun showed its light from time to time. I was lost in the chaos, in the noises that at times followed me relentlessly and at other times vanished into nothingness.

The trees seemed to move, at times, and at other times they seemed almost dead, shrivelled, as if without vital infamy. But the mystery of that place was unusual and unexplainable. It seemed like a place of my imagination, which did not exist at all in tangible reality.

In my wandering, it seemed that my shadow no longer followed me, but rather that other shadows not belonging to me had followed my path, as if curious about what I intended to do or where I was going. I was walking without direction and without any goal of finding myself or of finding the right destination.

It was as if those shadows sighed, or wanted to whisper something to me — hidden truths, sealed secrets, confessions too indecent to be revealed to human ears, or too regal to deserve a particular listening. The trees seemed to encircle an arcane mark, or what seemed like the mark of death, or of the cavern, or the portal through which one might enter another world, a world not reserved for mortals and common souls.

The arcane forest was my place of solitude alone, but also the place to which I truly belonged. No longer being part of the earthly world, of the world of mortals, of that realm I had tried to possess and understand, but which I then refused to belong to.
Elisabetta

June 27, 2025
An Enigma In the Twilight

An enigma in the twilight was before me,
In a decaying and decadent dwelling
where I fell into a deep slumber.

The silence after the storm.
That was all I could hear as I stared at the ceiling, decorated and inlaid with grotesque figures, cobwebs, and peeling paint.
I was reflecting on my life and my dreams.
It felt as though I was already inside one of my dreams, yet I could not be certain whether I was conscious or not.
The pendulum clock could no longer offer that familiar chime that once marked the hours — and with them, time itself.
The deafening silence had filled the entire mansion, whose walls were adorned with portraits that stared at me as if they wished to reveal secrets — or perhaps their memories.

Was the enigma in the twilight merely a product of my imagination,
Or could it be that this ancient and dilapidated place
held enigmas my heart perceived as a potential object of interest —
a heart now emptied of all the feelings it had carried through a lifetime,
senselessly and heavily, like a tremendous burden?

The only clock that marked the hour was an old timepiece,
And it seemed to have stopped at exactly 22:22.
The strange air of the mansion allowed the night to seep in
With a peculiar glow that filtered through the curtains — thick, but not too thick.
It was a house rich in memories and forgetfulness,
in joys and grudges, in violence and death,
in life and love, in ugliness and beauty,
In magnificence and horror.

Absorbed in my thoughts and lost in my memories,
I fell into a state of deep melancholy and sadness,
as if an abyss had swallowed me whole
and forced me to live a life in a non-existent world
of sorrow and ghostly recollections.
Elisabetta

June 25, 2025
Beneath The Ocean Vault

Beneath the ocean vault, there was a secret place
where the hidden truths and the most recondite secrets had been buried.
Among ruins covered by coral and algae
and a rather unsettling expanse of swirling water.
It was there that the crypt under the ocean lay,
as if the sea had been its roof and also its home.
Mine was a simple vision,
it may be that I was dreaming,
it may be that I was having these hallucinations.
I only know that it was not the fruit of a conscious and calculated imagination.
It seemed that I had abandoned myself
to the sound of the stormy waves on an autumn evening.
When the faint light of the sky merged with the water of the ocean
until merged as one unity.

I closed my eyes and I abandoned myself to my imaginative madness,
And I saw with even more clarity that marvellous and fantastical landscape
which did not belong to me,
But which in some way symbolised something of my past or of my future,
because I, in the end, lived in the past and the future.
My present was in oblivion.

Beneath the ocean vault, my dreams had ceased to whisper visions and desires. In their place remained nightmares that drew their fantasies from bitter disappointments and atrocious memories. And it was in this labyrinth of water and darkness that I found myself entwined, clutched as if unbound by invisible chains.

I found myself in an oceanic crypt where the sea creatures had turned into ghosts, hunting me like prey and a victim of their tortures and torments. My invocation to the cruel fate of a possible change, where I might have grasped a flower of hope, was to no avail. In the endless and vast infinite.
Elisabetta

June 25, 2025