Old coins & semi-precious stones…

Of old coins & stones…
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He fondles them between his fingertips blindly sensing the clefts & burgeoning ends
Leaping gullies & cliffs tamping down the deluge escalating… sighing as the summer
Breeze guessing the brightness of the Tiger’s eyes, transparency of a Quartz, freshness
Of a dark blue sea Howlite & old (false:)) coins etched skillfully in history…

Desire to own unparalleled beauty, frenzy inundating his senses, rationality flying out
To mountain’s guts where stones are born wrenched from nature’s grip…
He who tries to capture the unattainable, for riches come & go, heritage too fetching
To compass too grand to retain but frozen into words to depict the memory of the chosen.

P.s I love stones & coins for a very long time, I feel each one has a lot to say.
I hope these photos and poem give credit to their beauty
P.P.s I got an answer on the “nameless stone” it’s an Agate! You can check the blogger who sent it in the comments bellow.

Magnesite with coin
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Quartz point…
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A Lepidolite
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Green tourmaline
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Purple Amethyst
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Close up…
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The Emerald
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Selenite pillar
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Kunzite
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Does anyone know the name:)
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close up etched lips
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Blue Howlite
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Burano & Carlo Memo-Memories of an encounter 24.6.2013

the artist Carlo Memo
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This prose is the result of a very special moment spent in the house of Burano’s renowned artist Carlo Memo.
A privileged encounter into the cracks of time…

Burano & Carlo Memo
—————————-

Stepping into a rhapsody
Opening the doors to where
Pigmentation, structure & grain
Prime over mundanities.

Where comfort & authenticity poise.
We climb stairs leading to candor &
Iridescence, to a life of devotion
& skill, brushes & tubes aligned,
Immaculate, waiting for its owner
To choose its dean.

Spread layers upon layers
Of tenor & soul,
Gist & dreams,
Hope for the morrow…

Rows of monuments, wordless poems,
Music without notes, cascading on
Tight canvasses soothing our sore eyes,
Blending with the skies, soliciting the trees & seas…
We leave our calling & join thoughts around
A table of carved & sanded wood, Built

As fervidly as the
Murals, the boat…
Joined particles of
An ardent prayer…

We get up & glance to our right
At a kitchen composed as an Ode
To purity…born of a sparkling mind,
Nobility of a soul. More paintings
Hanging on walls & we slide back
Into the current of the mundane,

Bright sun & façades
Humming… beating
The drums to another tune,
Alluring us to idleness.

Tearing ourselves from the transient
Gratitude pumping our bursting veins
Aware of having been beckoned into what
Escapes most…of peeping through the keyhole
Of kudos, we withdraw cherishing a
Sketched memory of our encounter,

Depicting it into the
Chronicles of our lives
As a privileged slip
In the cracks of time.

rows of paintings…
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a table built with fervor
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bright sun & facades…
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Sunshine & postcards
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tearing ourselves from the transient
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back to departure point
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