Archivi categoria: poesia

Let me

landview

*`

Let me

be like cats

so proud of themselves

hiding

in a thick grass

far

from milk and mouses

hiding

in a handful of red leaves

fallen down (it was night when they fell)

to the ground

and yet

so closed

to the ceiling of sky

to the cloudy curtain ahead

Let me

be like those

who bring the bread

when needed

and fill the water bowl

outside the door

Let me

find

my very own recipe

my aim

my body’s song

I want to be

like cats when

recovering

alone

when finding

positive vibes there

where no one can stand

and watch them

concealed

in the deep silence of their breath

in the cold air

over a circle of hope

A possibility now

rests

in the bottom of a fear

(Believe)

(Believe)

 

 

Annunci

Gabriel Olearnik, traduzione di Federica Galetto

Traduzione di testi scelti dal libro “Amor de Lonh” di Gabriel Olearnik

Andromache Books, Londra, 2009

Edizioni Kolibris

Gabriel Olearnik è di origini polacche, cresciuto in Inghilterra ha frequentato i suoi studi a Londra. La sua formazione comprende studi di letteratura medioevale e storia. Il suo lavoro è apparso su Dappled Things (http://www.dappledthings.org/) (Pushcart Prize nominee) ed è stato adattato per una performance musicale dal compositore classico Premyslaw Salomonski .

Pubblicato dalla casa editrice Andromache Books di Londra (http://andromachebooks.co.uk/), nel panorama della poesia internazionale questo libro si distingue raccogliendo in sé una particolare vena di raffinatezza e profondità. Sradicata da una contemporaneità spesso carica di brutture stilistiche e contenuti troppo legati a un realismo d’effetto , la poetica di Olearnik nuota nel mare dell’Alchimia e dei grandi Misteri esistenziali e filosofici come l’Amore, la Morte, la Trasformazione fisica e psichica dell’Uomo, la Passione e il Pensiero, la Bellezza (“The last pagan”, “Acid and optics”).
Lo stile elegante, lirico, epico, dagli accenti stilistici di un Medioevo…

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interlude

Magic in the Backyard

wind waves like
ghosts
stirring beyond
breaking the loud silence
as they begin
rushing towards me
roaring
as the pines
rip against them
a hiccupped breath
and a slight lift of my hair
an interlude
as they pass by
over the bare field
before onward
through the treeline
then
they’re gone
wandering and searching
for another
lone dweller
to whisp aware
to nudge them from
that place
while I say goodbye
and return
to be with you

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Welcome spring

Church at Troutbeck, Lake District, Cumbria, England

Church at Troutbeck, Lake District, Cumbria, England

§

There were so many pink flowers

on the crab apple bush

and

many yellow hands on the grass

peeking out

Although the sun hid

behind

all those vague clouds

Life was less grey that day

whispering a secret

of joy and dismay

poem

Christina Rossetti

 

This mild glow of light

LucyHardie

art@Lucy Hardie

§

 

This mild glow of light

And my rush upon it

Seeking treasures where the sky

disappears

Over the lurking joint of a sorrow

Blinding rows of prayers

settling in me, poor naked creature

I, splendid sight of seagulls

I dare

beyond my pains

Black deep craters of indulgence

My non existant costraint

And you talking the language I knew

when the sun was at the zenith

and every stone under my feet was

a pillow full of joy

a listening skill

playing a song just for you

(I slept downstairs tonight

and you were not there)