Work email

Three tiny suspension points
Keep me hanging from a finger
From my desk.
The text was succint
and the short sentence closed
By a point
But i cannot find the real meaning
That those carefully chosen words
Hide.

Desk mirror

Even this tiny mirror
Can entrap my pride
When choosing what to do
And, this way, be.
Like milestones on the long road,
It will return me the truth
Regularly and unasked.

Rice space

My blood rushes and my lips distend
At the thought of new chapter.
Few pages are created naïve,
Blank and open.
Sentences drop like rice grains
Leaving tiny marks
Forever.

Meeting survival

Just let it happen and distance yourself
By flying to the coming singer
And exploring for the perfect Christmas present
Whole they all waste words.
Nod and consider
W what is really important to you
And take notes
To plan your short but dense free time
And your next knitting project.

Flamingo dance

On a foot I cruise the lab,
Walking sideways in a diagonal,
I reach my high desk.
I stretch my neck to discover the documents,
Hiding silent in the back,
While the others follow me
with their eyes filled of water.

Story show

My story is apparent
On the skin of my willing hands
And on the edges of my smiling mouth.
I have written thousands of sentences,
Yet none is enough
Or necessary.

Home prize

The arrival home
Is a proper for the intense day
As the boiling stew expects
a smile and a daily achievement.
The day closes sweet and homey
After hours in the artificial world
That takes your breath away.

Writing directions

A small post-it can hardly contain
The emotions you transmit
With your disappointed eyes
And needy body.
I will write you a sentence
And it will give only a direction
for the future, as the present is nothing
to remember.

Dear friend

I know you are connected to my heart
Even miles from here
And on another country.
Surrounded by factories,
You can feel my call,
When the routine gets boring
And the heart heavy.

Science grounded

Lean in and Throw your hand
into the thin crispy air
Even if you don’t have anything.
Your offer is will
And it will be grabbed
with violence and hearty gratitude
When the hypothesis seems like a stranger
And the results hold your feet to the ground.

Science rockstar

Like a rockstar on the stage,
I sweep through my slides
In the beamer’s strobo light
And sing of proteins and behaviours
While the others shout and stare.
My music is rhythmic
And my beat regular
To take on a unique journey.

Pigeon ideas

I define my meaning
Picturing those pointy questions
And surrounding myself
With carrots and clear waters
Where baby ideas are born.
The passion of birth
Is a bright light I feed
Like a little girl moves her little hand
To the pigeons.

Crossing doors

I always make sure
That a bridge is in sight
Or a door in proximity.
Few objects can guarantee you
An opportunity today
And the second road
looks always sunnier.

Common not

A common Thursday is here
With its common tasks of no flavour
And I face it head up,
Wrapped in a common blue dress.
As a common person,
I will hear and raise my voice.

Assumption pain

Standing by the centrifuge,
Minutes are like stones i cannot push away.
Laying in the meeting room,
Simplified sentences hurt like ignorance
When dressed as wisdom.

Work rainbow

I draw delicately my borders
And guard them with criticism
the whole day in the lab.
I paint the intruders
of the colours of support and good attitude
While their footprints contaminate and enrich
The working space or me.

Smile alone

The bitter taste of a laugh
When nobody is happy
Leaves a scar and a hope.
Your happy engine is on
And nothing can stop
its noisy dusty cylinders.

Tickling brain

Numbers in the table,
Like kids holding hands in a line,
Show me the direction
While tickling my brain
In this hide-and-seek game.
The pull and magic of the hidden trend
Make me a solo artist
Behind the curtain of an unapologetic  stage.
 

Of me

The skin trembles under the UV-light
At the end of the sweaty experiment.
How much of me is needed
For answering a short question?
In this never-ending hunt?
To be recognized?

What what

I have run out of words
And of desire to think forward.
My calories are not burning
In this day of rain
and suspended motivation.