Inside Sardinia: A distorted Nature’s poem …
I grow flat along the red rocky earth
with only the wind to guide me.
My nutrients I steal from the sea
with only the wind to guide me.
I yearn to reach new heights
with only the wind to guide me.
I’ve learned to reach the mountain peak
with the wind holding my hand, beside me.
It’s good to be back in your arms, with your wide open rugged coastline lapped in refreshing turquoise waters and your jagged mountain peeks where I sit 365 meters above sea-level. I’m restoring my faith in you, dear Sardinia, to bring me back to that place, you know that one, that little special place we hold so tight and dear.
It has been 2.5 years since we touched souls, and you haven’t changed a bit. You still glow, like summer’s first kiss, and you’ve welcomed me back with flair, graciousness and that inquisitive curiosity that I so fell in love with that first time back in 2008.
I can hear your locally made bells twang in the distance, around the neck of your goat who is languidly walking down the mountain. Your local dialect, a symphony of flair and history floats on the mountain air, sending wisps of words into my living room.
I’ve tasted your delicacies that I’ve so longed for: Ichnusa, pane carasau, cannonau, mountain water, pecorino, espresso, olive oil, peaches, pane and the list could go on. It’s been an assault on my senses just reuniting with you, I hope you feel the same way.
These last five days with you in the mountains has been spectacular. You’ve helped me realign my body, focus my energy and restore my soul. Now, it’s time for the beach.
Thank you, Sardinia, it’s good to be here.
Love
Jennifer Avventura
xoxo
Gosh, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face, twenty-one months precisely. I can only imagine your sun-kissed shadows, the way the wind whips in the cold winter months, the sound of your animals going out to pasture and the lingering sensation of a well aged mirto sipped between my lips. For one day soon, I shall return to your green pastures, and help seed our own garden, made from love.
A spectacular still moment captured forever. A guardian angel light as a feather, watches over the islanders … silently from heaven.
This is my response to the Weekly Travel Theme: Still
This photographic is dedicated to the men, women and children who lost their lives during the worst cyclone to ever hit Sardinia, Italy.
May you find peace and continue to soar.
Morals and values
stripped aside,
in your corner trying to hide.
Through that gape in your heart
that you left for me.
You are higher than a kite,
and sick of the fight.
Words go round and round.
There is no conclusion,
nothing found.
In dire straights;
love like chocolate
I never looked back.
You’re thick like honey,
it ain’t about the money.
Cage an animal and wait.
Soon you will see the anger, the pace;
and that long look on my face.
Ask me why? And I tell no lies.
Truth you don’t like,
you don’t believe.
Anything said.
Stuck in your head,
you not are right.
Come on; put up your fists
Let’s fight.
Ready for a good pounding,
You dog hounding.
I wake to my reality,
wishing I was still asleep.
Devoid from emotion,
and painless from you.
You dance naked in the sheets,
trying to remember her name.
Wishing it was mine.
It’s my voice you hear
lingering your name,
highlighting you with love.
Like an intruder, I want her out.
Jailed for disturbing my
piece of heaven with you.
You close your eyes
to recall my touch.
Her hand cradles the
small of your back.
You are a stranger engulfed
in her foreign land.
Actions and words
don’t mean a thing.
When you’ve been lying
between two lovers.
Pain that bleeds deepest
I will forever and always know,
You are my mysterious tragedy.
My Sardinian Life 