ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Each individual poem is copyrighted - Tous droits réservés
TUTTI I DIRITTI RISERVATI. Il copyright di ogni poesia appartiene ad ogni singolo autore
The poems are published in order of arrival
Poesie pubblicate in ordine di arrivo
Les poèmes sont publiés par ordre d'arrivée
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
A DYLAN MARLAIS THOMAS
Viaggiare nella parola fino ad impazzire,
prodursi nel suono come un cieco nella luce,
ammarare in una quiete silenziosa.
A questo conducono i tuoi versi, Dylan,
così ebbri di musica e d’incanto.
Adamantini e oscuri come la notte
rischiarata dalla luna, quando all’una
l’orologio rintocca sul mare in ascolto.
Nel groviglio dei tuoi pensieri s’annidano api
e il vento che fa stormire felci e foglie.
E alle tue voglie, quando cercavi
il grembo di tua moglie,
tuo sigillo d’amore.
A soli vent’anni, bruciavi.
Nel destino di astro nascente, bruciavi.
E cantavi caos e genesi, vita e morte
finché del sole hai sostenuto la visione.
Sa di radice, il tuo viaggio terrestre,
ove è sacro ogni essere vivente.
E nel profondo dell’anima
ogni pianto si fa preghiera.
E la briciola acquista, identità, valore,
in questi giorni apocalittici: chissà
come avresti declinato, oggi,
tu, mentre scrivo, la parola amore.
MASSIMO TROMBI
Massimo Trombi (Torino, Italia), libraio.
Studioso del periodo italiano di Dylan Thomas
La tempesta estiva
Si apre il cielo
fra i polmoni
di nuvole incupite
Un rombo di tuono
rompe l’etereo silenzio
La sua voce troneggiante
echeggia fra le folate del vento
sulla timorosa collina
Cadono urla stonate
ed un lampo squarcia
l’imponente pino che impotente
sradica le sue radici
Arreso per terra
piange i suoi rami spezzati
Dal campanile della chiesa
scappano involontari
i rintocchi della campana,
annunciano la tempesta estiva
che si presenta maestosa
Il mare nascosto tra i lembi della terra
cerca riparo nelle grotte della scogliera
Lampi infuocati illuminano
lo stralcio dell’aria cupa
La gente della collina
trova rifugio tra le scure chiuse
di una casa grigia
Voci ancestrali si dissolvono
fra atavici profumi
Senza scampo
ascolto silenziosa
Beccheggiano i pensieri
sulle rullanti acque
Urla e piange il cielo
Tocca ora a lui gridare la sua rabbia
La terra madre non può che
abbracciare il suo sposo:
il cielo, stizzito per l’umana ingratitudine
apre i suoi bronchi e investe la terra
Mai così tanta rabbia vedo eguale alla mia
IMMA SCHIENA
Imma Schiena (Torino, Italia). Dopo aver terminato gli studi socio-economici, si dedica alla poesia e al teatro. Insegna e vive a Torino. È inserita in diverse Antologie tra cui I Grandi Classici della Poesia Italiana del 1900, Ali Penna d’Autore, 2013. È nella grande Raccolta di poesie e commenti liberi Perché tu mi dici: Poeta, Hogwords, 2014. Premiata in diversi concorsi letterari e al Poetry Slam Nazionale a Milano nel 2018. Dai testi si evince il suo impegno civico e sociale contro ogni forma di discriminazione.
A MATTER OF HOPE
From ages to ages
the light is still burning
in the deepest nights
when the raging storms
try to switch it off
the gentle sun always
keeps the blindness away
when a gleam is still at sight
no more grief in dark old nights
since the blaze of the gentle light
will always ignite hope and good deeds
from time to time for happy endings
in the good nights
HUGUETTE BERTRAND
Huguette Bertrand (Canada). She is a French-Canadian poet and editor. She has published 38 poetry books. Some of her poems have been published in French and in English in many international poetry journals and anthologies. She is the Canadian representative of the international movement Immagine & Poesia.
NAYMAN
Let me say nay
to all patterns
linking birth to death,
sleep to a thousandth life.
Let me say nay
to the scissors of the clock
cutting to sunder
at a second’s stroke.
Let me say nay
to her who’d mark me
in her book of hours,
unman me in some fashioned place
without grass,
without the blinding sun
to burn my loins
alive.
Let me say nay
to the return of comets,
the fixed turn of sky;
hold back the waving
flurry of the spray,
the cyclic fall of leaves
and burst of seeds.
Let me say nay
to my old foe
I wrestle with
from cock’s crow
to knell of bell
clappering at the croak
of sun
and quartering
of the madman moon.
Let me say nay
to the scythy
slicing of the days,
take his grinning skull
and split him up a tree,
duel with the guarding sword,
walk through the fire unscorched
and over the ice stretch
from Eden to the end of days
and blast the phoenix
back to flight.
STANLEY H. BARKAN
First published in The Blacklines Scawl (1976)
Stanley H. Barkan (U.S.A) Poet and Publisher, Stanley H. Barkan’s latest books include, Crossings, translated into Russian by Aleksey Dayen; Brooklyn Poems and Sutter & Snediker (2016); and Gambling in Macáu and No Cats on the Yangtze, both translated into Chinese by Zhao Si (2017). In 2017, he was awarded the Homer European Medal of Poetry & Art. American Representative of the art-literary Movement Immagine& Poesia.
GARDEN OF CLOUDS
(to Dylan Thomas)
Your life
had become
A speeded-up film,
Moving too fast, sickly,
Each frame flashed by,
Too
quickly, not settling
At all in the scrapbook
Of your mind. Your voice
Was left
behind, in rooms
Of strangers sipping wine,
Their politeness like fresh paint
Drying on walls.
You were
always traveling,
In a plane, a bus or a car,
Yesterday
was always lost
Above a garden of clouds,
In a station of tired faces,
On a table
in a café
On a never-ending road.
You felt
so alone, your past
Blocked off by each city’s dream
Of sky-threatening stone.
Your dramas drowned in each smile.
The ash of
your words
Smouldered in the books
That they bought and shelved
In their unknown lives.
You were
losing yourself.
Your emotions rode
The conveyor-belts of their eyes.
You got as
close as a lover
With your pockets of songs.
You wore
the garments of death
With the laughter of a clown.
At night,
when sleep played
Games with your soul
And the
traffic smothered
Your slow pictures of love,
New poems dripped into
The wounds of your life
Below the garden of clouds.
PETER THABIT JONES
Peter Thabit Jones (U.K.). Peter Thabit Jones is the author of sixteen books. Translated into over twenty languages, he is the author, with Aeronwy Thomas, of the Dylan Thomas Walking Tour of Greenwich Village, New York, available as a book, a guided tour via New York Fun Tours, and a DT100 app. British Representative of the art-liteary movement Immagine & Poesia.
Like the sun, vanishing into the night
Like the sun, vanishing into the night
Upon the flames of dreams of yesterday
I am forever, fading, from the light
My heart filled with the shadows of twilight
Is breaking apart, a crumbling bouquet
Like the sun, vanishing into the night
Leaves are falling, red bleeding into white
As shadowless dusk, gently steals the day
I am forever, fading, from the light
The wings of mourning doves, whistle in flight
Gradually melting into the grey
Like the sun, vanishing into the night
I recall when the flames of love burned bright
But now, as the brush of night paints the way
I am forever, fading, from the light
In quiet melancholy of hindsight
Turning to darkness and drifting away
Like the sun, vanishing into the night
I am forever, fading, from the light
© ANN BAGNALL 2020.
Bagnall, Ann (Australia). Ann Bagnall is based in Sydney, Australia and has loved poetry since she was a young girl. She also is an amateur photographer and loves the poetry of images.
Un printemps encore
(à Dylan Thomas)
Here in this spring, stars float in the void
Dylan Thomas
Un printemps encore
et les étoiles
toujours les étoiles éblouissantes dans le vide.
Attirée par un appel hypnotique
je plonge dans l'obscurité absolue.
Le souffle distant du vent
le long des rivières de perle
accompagne le vol de la dernière mouette.
Les vagues hurlent et se brisent
sur les rives de la mer.
Avec toi
seule avec toi
je vais remonter.
Indemne.
Je survole des marées et des précipices aux contours liquéfiés.
Des octogones de lumière brillent
dans leur géométrie parfaite.
J'entends des vibrations dans l'immense silence :
l'avenir est enveloppé de brume.
Au loin
ma destination lentement
se démaille.
LIDIA CHIARELLI
21 mars 2020
Lidia Chiarelli (Torino, Italy). Artist and writer, co-founder, with Aeronwy Thomas, of the art-literary Movement Immagine & Poesia (2007). Award -winning poet. Five Nominations to Pushcart Prize (USA). Her poems are translated multilingually.
https://lidiachiarelli.jimdofree.com/
https://lidiachiarelliart.jimdofree.com/
https://immaginepoesia.jimdofree.com/
前へ進みなさい
はじめて手にした本は聖書だった
「はじめに言葉ありきーーー」
わたしはこの言葉に惹かれた
この世でアダムとイブが出会って 人間の世界が始まった
二人の物語は終わっても わたしたちの人生は終わらない
昨日から今日へと
地平線のようにつながって
今日から明日へと移っていく
この重たさにーーー
風よ、前へ進みなさい
聖書の中の暗闇を
心のなかに
きらめく星に変えよう
果てしなく流れていく 拡がっていく
わたしの言葉 前へーーー
MAKI STARFIELD
Go Forward
The book I got for the first time was the Bible
"In the beginning was the word..."
I was attracted to this word
Adam and Eve met in this world and the human world began
Even if the stories of those two people are over, our life will not end
From yesterday to today
Connected like a horizon
I will move from today to tomorrow
Upon this heaviness…
O wind, go forward!
In the heart,
Let's change the darkness of the Bible
Into sparkling stars
Endlessly flowing, spreading
My words before it
Maki Starfield (Japan). Maki Starfield was born in Japan where she studied English and American literature, teaching and business, with further work in Canada. She has published poems, haikus and translations in JUNPA publications. She is the Representative of Immagine & Poesia in Japan.
https://www.facebook.com/maki.starfield
SQUARCI
Ogni nota è un petalo
Ogni petalo un canto
Ogni canto è azzurro
Nella brezza che soffia dai mari.
I cigni sono muti e mutevoli
Nell’alba esausta in primavera,
mentre le stelle navigano
viene giù a rovesci.
Il vento ci rovescia il manto
E la lampada, alberi e foglie
Solleva la nostra barca
Dove volano i cormorani
E l’uomo avrà stelle ai gomiti
E se impazzirà sarà sempre saggio
And death shall not have no dominion
CARLA BERTOLA
Carla Bertola è scrittrice e poeta multimediale. Opera in campo internazionale con performances, mostre, pubblicazioni. Ha diretto per 40 anni la rivista di poesia internazionale “Offerta Speciale” e si occupa ancora di edizioni e programmi culturali.
http://www.ulu-late.com/atlante/bertola.htm
Per Dylan Thomas
In assenza di gomiti e piedi
potrebbero sbocciare fiori
e ruote
e rive impazzite e morte
spaccare la fede
in presenza di gabbiani
solleva scrosci di pioggia e tendini contorti
giacendo lungo le rive del sonno
si sciolgono grumi di chiodi
annotando rigo per rigo
le scansioni furiose di vento
strappate dal mare le ossa
si celebrano margherite di gesso
incautamente
incuranti del dominio inquieto dei fogli
dell’agguato scarnificato che dissolve
l’assenza della luna
garbatamente rifiutando il dominio
esangue della morte
si scrivono righe accuratamente miniate
potrebbero restare inviti a ricomporre poemi
potrebbero under the windings of the sea
ALBERTO VITACCHIO
Alberto Vitacchio. Poeta lineare, visuale e sonoro. Opera in campo internazionale con performances, creazione di libri d’artista e pubblicazioni. Il suo ‘viaggioscrittura’ Landlessness riscritto in Inglese è nelle edizioni Archae Editions. Dal 1978 coeditore della rivista multimediale Offerta Speciale.
Turnasti
Di musica
chi pèrcia li visceri e la midudda
agghiòmmara nta un cartasu,
di religioni
chi di duluri pasci e non-viulenza
l’armi fauttiati,
di marziani
chi affùddanu li sicchi di l’inconsciu
mascarati di mazzamareddi…
mi parravi cu ardenza;
e ju arrunzava siddiatu
dda camula vùncia di stravacanza.
Na pennula di luci bianca
un sciallu di rasu russu
un cannistru di testimoni fuschi,
soni lu viulinu
e t’inchini
e respiri americanu.
Eppuru giurassi chi stasira,
toi lu varvarottu lu bulìu l’essenza,
turnasti
sulu pi sfùttiri a mia.
MARCO SCALABRINO
_______________
You’ve returned
(translated by Tony Di Pietro)
Of music / that pierces the guts and the brain /
it wraps in a cone, / of religions / that nourishes of pain
and non-violence / tormented souls, / of martians / that crowd
the shallows of the unconscious / masked by nightmares… /
you spoke to me enthusiastically; / and I scornful distanced
from me / that nuisance filled with extravagance. // A beam
of white light / a red satin shawl / a handful of shady witnesses, /
you play the violin / and you bow / and you breathe american. /
I would swear that tonight, / yours the face the fervor
the essence, / you’ve returned / only to make fun of me.
Marco Scalabrino. Poeta, saggista, traduttore e autore di testi teatrali. Studioso e cultore del dialetto siciliano. Ha pubblicato: PALORI; TEMPU palori aschi e maravigghi; CANZUNA di vita di morti d’amuri; LA CASA VIOLA; La puisia di / The Poetry of Marco Scalabrino. Ha scritto tre commedie: LU CARRUBBU DI TITTA, L’AFFARI BUSILLIS, B, B & B PARADISU.
http://www.ilportaledelsud.org/scalabrino_marco_02.htm
Można tu przybyć promem albo samolotem,
w Lover Swansea Valley już nie dobywa się miedzi.
Za to w jachtowym porcie, niedaleko od brzegu
łagodnie łabędzie sfruną, aby pozdrowić gości.
Na ławce odpoczywa tu urodzony poeta,
Jednak poderwie się może, ażeby się przywitać?
Powiem wtedy „Wiesz Dylan!
Wiersza Ci nie przeczytam,
on nie jest w Twoim stylu.
Podzielam zachwyt nad przyrodą Walii,
lubię słuchać starych legend ale przybyłem tutaj
tylko dla Ciebie!”.
To dziwne, jesteś młodszy ode mnie.
Nigdy się nie zestarzejesz, nie tylko to Ci się udało.
Wspólnie możemy słuchać ptasich śpiewów,
obserwować loty: kosów, siewek i czajek,
fruwające nad morzem mewy, także te na fasadzie
Twojego muzeum. Wstąpić do Mlecznego Lasu.
Wody Tâf wzrokiem śledzić, gdy jej fale
znikają w oddali.
You can arrive by ferry or by plane,
they no longer mine copper in Lover Swansea Valley.
When we stroll on the banks in the yacht port,
swans came gently to greet the guests.
A here-born poet is resting on the bench,
perhaps he will rise, to say Hello?
I will say then “You know Dylan!
I won't read my poem to you,
‘cause it’s not your style.
I share your admiration for the nature of Wales,
I like to listen to old legends, but I came here
just for you!”.
It's strange, you are younger than me.
You will never grow old, not only in this you succeeded.
Together, we can listen to birds’ songs,
watch flights of blackbirds, gray plovers and lapwings,
seagulls fluttering above the sea and on the front
of your Museum. Visit the Milk Woods.
We can follow the waters of Tâf River,
as its waves disappear in the distance.
ZBIGNIEW MIROSLAWSKI
Zbigniew Mirosławski (Poland). Poet and historian, member of The Polish Authors' Association. Author of 13 volumes of poetry.
His works are translated in different languages. Award winning poet.
https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zbigniew_Miroslawski
IN THE MIDST OF MYSTERY
(for Dylan Thomas)
the cracked moon . . .
Bowing to the worms
behind the masks,
I watch as skulls drift
on a silvery path
going nowhere.
The darkened, mute forest
tunnels my soul’s cries.
Listening to that
which is of no man,
I climb the chords
of your flute’s song.
Your passion’s music
guides me with invisible hand
to a choir of pale angels
on their knees.
From there we travel
the infinite spirit of things
to the edge of all melody.
Then dangling over the abyss,
beholding endless horizons,
we are swept
by a crimson wind,
back to the origins
of all lovers and demons.
There we pause,
in the midst of mystery . . .
Copyright 2020 by CAROLYN MARY KLEEFELD
Carolyn Mary Kleefeld (Big Sur, California.) Artist, poet, and prose-writer Carolyn Mary Kleefeld studied art and psychology at UCLA and is the author of twenty books. Her writing has been translated into over 15 languages. Three of her books are available in bilingual and trilingual editions and her books have been used at universities and healing centers internationally. Her art appears worldwide in galleries, museums, and private collections.
www.carolynmarykleefeld.com www.alchemyoracle.com
Profezia
E non avremo più i denti
Per mordere la vita
E strapparla via (da noi).
Non avremo più amici
Se mai ne abbiamo avuti
E sarà a secco la benzina
E l’auto sequestrata
Dalla polizia di stato.
Ci mancherà quel film
Incollato al finestrino
E i neon-strie di luce
Nella notte asfaltata.
Sparito quel potere
Del girarsi e fare
Dell’andare,
non importa dove.
E le cravatte
Si sfilacceranno tristi
Stese ai fili spinati,
parleremo come pazze galline
e nessuno capirà.
Solo tra di noi
Una tantum
Un poco di luce
Un ponte che si allunga
E si rafforza
Nell’arco che si torce
Non vedremo più l’azzurro
Se non sfocato grigio
E rideranno di noi
Per non avere paura.
Ma conserveremo il ghigno
Del nervo spelato
E l’illuminazione inutile
E un brillio dell’occhio
Che dice ciò che tace.
FRANCO G. FERRERO
Franco G. Ferrero vive e lavora in Canavese, in provincia di Torino. Giornalista, per alcuni decenni operatore culturale e teatrale, oggi opera prevalentemente come consulente della Pubblica amministrazione. Ha pubblicato numerosi saggi, un racconto e le raccolte di poesie Il tarlo (1982) e Ianuae (1988) oltre a svariati testi poetici su riviste italiane e internazionali. Ha organizzato, partecipato e condotto reading ed eventi dedicati alla poesia. https://www.ibs.it/libri/autori/Franco%20G.%20Ferrero
FINALE
(per Dylan Thomas)
Patetico questo lento morire
dell’ardore nella sera che cancella
la luce col nostalgico frinire
di parole consunte con la stella
che si spegne di colpo per lenire
l’agonia di carezze nella bella
finale di partita con il botto
che non lascia più nessun rimbrotto.
MARIO RONDI
Mario Rondi. Vive a Vertova (Bg). Autore di molte raccolte di poesie e di libri di racconti, oltre a due romanzi, l’ultimo nel 2019 “Due passi all’inferno, con un occhio al paradiso” (Fermenti edizioni).
http://www.genesi.org/autore-mario-rondi-5858.html
VENTO E TEMPESTA
Più del sole amo
il vento e la tempesta.
Umani.
Rudi e forti.
mi bagnano
mi avvolgono
attanagliano
e scompaiono
per poi tornare
nel mistero del mare.
A inzuppare la pelle,
a librarsi, a volare.
Febbraio 2020. @PATRIZIA VALPIANI
Patrizia Valpiani, medico, è nata a Pietrasanta, vive e lavora a Torino dal 1980. Da sempre coltiva la grande passione per la poesia e la letteratura, i suoi libri hanno avuto numerosi riconoscimenti a carattere nazionale. Dal 2015 è presidente dell’Associazione Medici Scrittori Italiani. https://www.toscanatoday.it/author/patrizia-valpiani/
I VIALI ALBERATI
Lo sguardo si perde
sui riverberi affollati
da foglie rinate.
I piedi schivano
rizomi avviluppati
in tortuosi amplessi.
Un usignolo veste i sensi
di rinnovate emozioni svolazzanti,
lì dove i boccioli cullano
i cuori sfogliati degli amanti!
NADIA LOIACONI
Nadia Loiaconi è nata a Torino, laureata in Economia e Commercio. Docente di Economia e imprenditrice. Esperta di analisi economiche e sociali, è autrice di diverse opere letterarie e poetiche, presenti al Salone Internazionale del Libro di Torino. Socia del Circolo degli Artisti di Torino ha collaborato con diverse Case Editrici, tra cui Edizioni Accademiche Italiane, Aletti Editore, I Libri della Nostra Terra, Lo Spettatore Libri. Al VII Concorso CET con Presidente di Giuria l’autore Mogol è stata insignita con il Diploma di Merito.
Remembering Dylan
(Inspired by the life of Dylan Thomas)
Across the seas,
into the starry night, where light breaks free
where no sun shines -
lived, a drunken, roistering and doomed
welsh poet, yet famous for how
the “play of voices” became an interlude
of imagery and poetic tune;
his eyes longed to see, how death shall have
no dominion, written in the lines of age of
wisdom, life, love, and war;
fabricated lines of vision and voice -
obscured, unfashionable and preconceived symbolism
woven in self-contradictory images;
scurrying through lines, and in the white giants thigh;
oh, how high the hills bulge with internal rhythm and rhyme -
notated for musicality, that reflected quite early one morning
under milk wood.
He walked through life, and the three nights' blitz that sparked
plays and scripts, broadcasts and ambitious pieces -
with a holy spring and visions of prayer;
the son of the sea, forever parted from earth to heaven,
remembered by his voice of words and vision.
MYSTY S. MILWEE
Mysti S. Milwee (Southside, AL USA)
She is an International award-winning and published synesthesia artist, poet, screenwriter, and writer.
Her art and literary works have been published and appeared in over 1,000 publications and in over 8 countries across the globe. She serves as an International Art Ambassador for international art relations.
POETA
Scrivesti un giorno
di sole e di vento
parole posate
sui silenzi della notte
mentre volgeva il capo
al crepitio dell'alba
Scrivesti parole un giorno
Scivolavano su umori
di cielo e di mare
erano schegge di primaverili memorie
Scrivesti un giorno
semi di parole ora radici
che abbracciano il tempo
son luce mescolanze di cielo
di ombra e sole
correnti di maree e risacca
lasciano scie nel giorno
che ora esplode tra lacrime di neve
su volti dove si arresta il ricordo.
GABRIELLA MERCURI
Mercuri Gabriella nata a Taviano (Lecce) vive a Torino. Appassionata della parola bella scrive libri di poesie molte di esse inserite in antologie poetiche, collabora con associazioni letterarie nella presentazione di incontri di Poesia. Membro di giuria in premi letterari. Vincitrice di premi di poesia .
http://www.poetipoesia.com/gabriella-mercuri/
Orbiting
(to Dylan Thomas)
I orbit around this earth
trying not to disturb
I listen to the dove’s coo
the sparrow’s chirp
I worship the purple iris
observe the lily unfurl
see jackal and hyrax
in the bosom of their forest
Touch the blossom of the almond
and the cherry tree
implore the world to take
no heed of me
Let me flow with dignity
I implore let there be
no more pain
no more surgery
Evenings I shower off
the day’s regrets
beg to navigate silently
to trespass in a whisper
To orbit the planet in peace
until I snuggle up with the stars
and disappear forever
to a kinder space
© HELEN BAR-LEV
Bar-Lev, Helen (Israël) was born New York in 1942. She holds a BA in Anthropology, has lived in Israel for 49 years and has held over 100 exhibitions of her landscape paintings. She has six poetry collections all illustrated by herself. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2013 and received the 2016 European Homer Medal of Poetry and Art. She is Overseas Coordinator for Voices Israel Group of Poets. http://www.helenbarlev.com
Sconfiggo la morte
Impavida è la morte
giunge improvvisa
recide il fiore sbocciato
avanza l’oscura figura
l’arsura mi secca la gola
gocciano gocce di sudore
sulla mia fronte gelida
nascondo il pensiero
schernisco il tempo mio breve
fingo la resa
mi scuoto e dibatto
un urlo squarcia il silenzio
di versi irroro la stanza
raggio di luce filtra dai vetri
in dissolvenza visioni spettrali
gioisco alla vittoria
I defeat death
Death is fearless
It comes suddenly
It severs the blossomed flower
the dark figure approaches
thirst dries my mouth
drops of sweat drop
upon my chilly forehead
I hide my thought
I mock this short time of mine
I feign surrender
I stir and struggle
a scream rends the silence
I fill the room with verse
ray of light filters through the glass
ghostly visions fade
I rejoice in victory
MARISTELLA ANGELI
Angeli, Maristella (Italy)
Maristella Angeli is a poetess, fantasy writer and painter who has always felt the need to express herself
in different artistic forms. She has published ten poetic collections, two fantasy novels,
and has exhibited her paintings in personal, collective and international events.
TEMPO DI VIVERE
Nel buio della notte sprofondato in un abisso segreto
ho desiderato riposare fra braccia sconosciute.
Ho affidato il mio cuore,
nel nero silenzio di un bosco incantato,
a ombre furtive avvolgenti e ansimanti.
Mani sapienti han frugato la mia anima
e rapito il mio cuore.
Stordito da un vortice opaco e sordo
ho ridipinto la mia vita con colori di zolfo.
Lo sguardo ancora stupito da tanto ardire
ho posato teneramente sul tuo viso
ma i tuoi occhi sbarre serrate come le labbra.
Ho lacerato il silenzio, ho sussurrato
parole banali e inutili.
La terra odorosa e la resina dei pini
han confuso la mia mente : è tempo di giocare
il proprio cuore e di perderlo.
E’ tempo di vivere e di rischiare.
Non è tempo di pensare,
tace la paura e la luna sorride.
GIOVANNI CORDERO
Giovanni Cordero
Ha svolto attività di ricerca e docenza presso l’Università “La Sapienza” di Roma, l’Università di Torino, l’Accademia delle Belle Arti di Cuneo ed è stato Direttore dell’Accademia di Belle Arti di Sanremo. Ha pubblicato i romanzi: “Silenzi. Il destino alle 18”. Editrice Psiche, Torino. “L’Albergo dei gatti”. Editore Albatros, Roma. “L'impronta di cioccolato”. Emersioni Castelvecchi, Roma. Iscritto all’ Ordine dei giornalisti e degli psicologi.
This I Understand
Walking along the coastal path,
two half-brothers introduce me
to the poetry of Wales.
Evan recites Cynghanedd,
Welsh verse of harmonic sounds
using stress, alliteration and rhyme.
“You won’t understand it, you understand.”
I don’t, but I do.
Its mystery washes over me.
It’s Waldo’s turn now.
“As was his Swansea, Dylan was ugly, but lovely.
A lovely poet, yes?”
Evan denounces the lout.
“You be be judge,” both rejoin.
Waldo breathes deep and begins
in lyrical English:
My ark sings in the sun …
NEAL WHITMAN
Neal Whitman is a poet who aims to write for The Common Reader, of which he considers himself with pride a member. He lives on
the Monterey Peninsula between San Francisco to the north and Big Sur to the South. He and his wife, Elaine, walk along the coastal path – he in search of words to bring home, like ocean-smoothed
stones collected from the beach, and she looks for images to rise from the tides to inspire her photography. https://www.poetryfoundation.o
Once I was sand dab small
urchin of the tides
shrieking with the gulls
on my blanket of sand
and head high as the waves
I was playmate to the sea
One and one were we
under the clouds of foam . . .
Sand crabs tickled my toddles
The conch sang hushabies of the surf
The horses of the sea
whinnied the tunes
of my periwinkle dreams . . . . . .
Who sells cockles for my suckle?
Who can cuddle stars to sleep?
What Sandman rock-a-byes yesternight’s cradle?
All the sun long day
I melted from green to gold
holding the hand of the sea
for only a rainbow long
and gathering handfuls of mist
I was Captain of the tides . . .
Dolphins dipped to my horn
The turrets of my castles
trembled the wind
The shrill of my whistle
shivered the still
of the serpent’s lair . . . . . .
Who can ride the ebbless tide?
Who can borrow wings from the wind?
What Sandman can cool the burn of my yearnings?
Each stolen night and day
I streaming down the shore
danced the fire dance
in the tongues
of the leaping waves
Neptune strong
Colossus high
I strode the shallow deep
Buccaneer of the boundless main
Captain Hook
of my mussel fleet . . .
The peaks of my mountains
scraped the clouds
The crash of my drumbeats
thundered the sky
The sting of the salty spray
blurred my lordly eyes
Hickory Dickory heedlessly
I waded the Gulliver shore
While sands of the hourglass trails
trickled forever by . . . . . .
Who can caress the foam?
Who can touch nevermore?
What Sandman can dry the tears of the sea?
~ Harley White
Harley White (Spain / USA) is a born word-lover. Some of her literary offerings include all genres of poetry, songs, stories, poems about the cosmos, works based on fairy tales, awakenings, and a book called, The Autobiography of a Granada Cat – As told to Harley White… http://harleywhite.awardspace.info/
sleeping poet
poet sleeping
stretched out on the grass
his hat askew on his brow
poet asleep,his hands on his throat
his house and trees are sleeping too the sun making ready to leave only images are awake now dark blue horses, winged balerinas the violin-bodied man, the harp playing bird woman and the pauper king.
now the poet is astride an image horse
the park as wide as can be
and as rich as it gets
the chauteau splendid, the trees giant-sized his hat straight on his brow hands on hips the poet is smiling now
yeşim ağaoğlu
Ağaoğlu, Yeşim (Turkey) Yeşim Ağaoğlu is a poet and artist born in Istanbul. Her poems have appeared in various anthologies, and her published books of poetry have been translated into many languages. She frequently participates in international literary and poetry festivals, as well as gaining recognition internationally as a contemporary artist.
La vérité de nos jours
La vérité est difforme.
Elle se reflète dans les mille morceaux
De fenêtres éclatées.
Elle est déformée
Par l'angle des regards,
Arrangée pour satisfaire des lâches,
Raccommodée telle une chaussette favorite
Dont on hésite à se débarrasser.
Une fleur peut se révéler
Être un papillon
Et la silhouette menaçante
Au coin de la rue
Un simple réverbère.
Une pierre serait un scarabée apeuré
Et les paroles tendres
Des piques qui blessent la chair.
La vérité est un jeu de cache-cache,
Une partie de pêche.
Un sens ne portant
Sur ses épaules que
L'humanité de nos prétentions.
Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova
Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova est une artiste-poétesse franco-slovaque. Ses livres sont publiés en Slovaquie, en France et en Belgique. Elle participe à plusieurs revues littéraires (Florilège, Ce qui reste, Poésie Première...).
APOCALISSE ORA
Bruciano nella notte
come rami secchi di un albero in fiamme
corpi anziani e vinti
e la luna d’aprile illumina indifferente
l’apocalisse del tempo nostro
In questo silenzio innaturale,
grida la voce del poeta:
“Non andartene docile in quella buona notte
Infuriati, infuriati contro il morire della luce”
Verranno albe nuove a tingere di luce
queste eterne notti,
altre parole a costruire domani
e nuovi sorrisi a sbocciare
come fiori in primavera
Ma tu che hai visto e sai
non dimenticare la voce che grida:
“Non andartene docile in questa buona notte
Infuriati, infuriati contro il morire della luce “
Lilita Conrieri
Lilita Conrieri, medico pediatra all’Ospedale OIRM di Torino e curatrice ed organizzatrice di eventi della Casa Museo Il Meleto di Guido Gozzano ad Agliè Canavese. Ha pubblicato numerosi volumi di prosa e poesie.
Ha ottenuto vari riconoscimenti letterari fra cui il 2 Premio al Concorso Cesare Pavese e il 1 Premio al Concorso Pannunzio per la poesia inedita. Nel 2016 le è stato , inoltre, assegnato il premio Valdo Fusi per la libertà di pensiero.
Fa parte della giuria del Premio Letterario Il Meleto di Guido Gozzano.
OÙ QUE TU SOIS
Où que tu sois
Tes rêves n'ont plus froid
Tu reposes en paix
Sans pesanteur
Sans peau
Sans âge
Tu reposes
Allumé à jamais
Car sur toi
La mort n'a plus l'avantage
Elle n'a plus de langage
Pour éteindre
Ta lumière
Allumé à jamais
Où que tu sois
Tes rêves n'ont plus froid
Tu reposes en paix
Sur ton sommeil
La mort n'a plus de vacarmes
Sylvain Nanad ( CAMEROUN )
Sylvain Nanad est comptable de formation. Après quelques pas dans la musique en tant que parolier, slameur et chanteur, il se lance dans l'écriture de la poésie et participe à plusieurs Anthologies de haïkus, Tankas Et poésie contemporaine. '' La fragilité des sens'' et ''NAMI'' sont ses recueils publiés . https://www.facebook.com/sylvainnanad/
Celebrating Immortality
O talented poet!
O master of words!
Amidst hectic 21st century
of internet dominion
we are still mesmerized by
your sun of direct expression
your daring waves of spontaneity
Echoes, echoes
“Do not go gentle into that good night”
all around the globe,
As we swirl, waltz in your world
We can’t help to let a tear
drop in the poetry realm
but soon we comfort ourselves,
pacify your soul
by celebrating what you’ve left in legacy –
the undying fruits of poetic determination
your constant stars of immortality.
Vatsala Radhakeesoon
Vatsala Radhakeesoon was born in Mauritius in 1977. She is the
author of 8 poetry books and an experimental abstract artist. Her day job is that of a literary translator. She is also one of the interview editors of the bi-annual online journal, Asian
Signature.
https://www.amazon.com/Vatsala-Radhakeesoon/e/B0744JQ3W9%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
LUMIERES DE TA SOIF
A la mémoire de Dylan Thomas
Frêle amant des abysses
Tu n’eus jamais peur de danser
Ni chanter au bord des précipices
Pour recueillir dans le sang de ton encre
Les étoiles blessées
Qui avaient besoin des lumières de ta soif
Pour libérer leurs ancres
Pour t’offrir leurs verres
Pour leur offrir tes vers
Se riant des dards de Chronos
Et ses voraces horloges
Mariant vos titubantes nuits
En jardins de miroirs
D’où naissaient chaque jour
Les nouveaux visages des fleurs
Loin des leurres peurs et pleurs
En ivres flammes de papillons
Sur les ailes libres des chemins
De cette magique mer du cygne
Chaussé de vent
Avec ton cœur pour boussole de retour
Vers ton intarissable
Inoubliable chant de phénix
Toi l’éternel enfant
© Mokhtar El Amraoui Le 1er mai 2020
Mokhtar El Amraoui. C’est un poète d’expression française né à Mateur, en Tunisie. Il a enseigné la littérature et la civilisation françaises pendant plus de trois décennies, dans diverses villes de la Tunisie. Passionné de Poésie, depuis son enfance, il a publié quatre recueils. Le premier, en 2010, s'intitule "Arpèges sur les ailes de mes ans", le second, en 2014, "Le souffle des ressacs" et les troisième et quatrième en 2019, successivement « Chante, aube, que dansent tes plumes ! » et « Dans le tumulte du labyrinthe.
In this spring
“Here in this spring, stars float along the void”
Dylan Thomas
Is this the ornamental spring
with blossoms on the trees
and promises of colourful flowers
a pleasure for the poet’s eye?
Or is it autumn, announcing winter
with withering flowers
and unripe fruits falling
to the ground?
Birds are joyfully singing,
but the bells are tolling,
for many a new summer,
will come no more.
Germain Droogenbroodt, 2020
Germain Droogenbroodt is an internationally appreciated poet, translator, publisher and promoter of modern international poetry. As founder and editor of POINT Editions (POetry INTernational) he has published more than eighty collections of mainly modern, international poetry.
Germain Droogenbroodt organised and co-organised several international poetry festivals in Spain. http://www.alittlepoetry.com/droogen.html
The Rise and Fall of Hydref
The hiss and rustle of the leaves
on gently swaying trees
like the sigh of a vast creature
The smell of fresh morning dew
on moistened soil and rolling mist
embracing only few
Soon warm rain will fall in sheets,
spattering and steaming
washing away the now usual, miasma
Her last beams caught in sheets of rain
forming split-second works of art
in torrential sky
Unseen, undisturbed,
Hydref will be snuffed like a candle
by gentle echoes of her own breathing
VaL Smit ©
VaL Smit is a South African artist based in Cape Town. She writes ekphrastic poetry per artwork created. She uses various media in portraying images that she feels fitting to deliver the message of the words she pens down.
Puisi Untuk Dylan Thomas
Sajak kelahiranmu begitu diam membisu
Tak dilihat oleh dewi keberuntungan
Kau hidup bagai menyendiri di tengah keramaian
Sungguh hanya berteman dengan kesederhanaan
Kau lahir dari seorang guru dan sastra yang andal
Sedari kecil kau sudah mengenal apa itu puisi
Bahkan sebelum kau bisa membaca
Kau adalah sosok penyuara yang modernisasi sekaligus Neo-romanticism
Dari ketertinggalan pengetahuan
Sungguh memang romantis dirimu
Sosokmu bagai dia yang rela mati demi dombanya
Bahkan kau rela pergi dari kampung halamanmu
Demi melantangkan suaramu
Hingga aku mengenangmu sampai batas usiamu
Semoga tuhan menyayangimu dalam pelukannya
Akhmad Cahyo Setio is a literary activist of Tanah Bumbu Indonesia. He participated in various literary activities locally and internationally. His poems are included in local and international Poems Anthologies such as, Amaravati Poem Prism 2018 and 2019 India, “Just Love Me” in Nepal India 2019, in International Malays festival Singapore 2018, International Poems Anthology of Palestine solidarity, in Malaysia 2018, World Healing World Peace in USA, in Azahar Revista Poetica vol.104 Spain.
致敬迪兰·托马斯
童年时你迷恋自然的声音
沉醉于人们说话的声音
你活在美酒、梦幻和死亡的词语里
你仰观死亡的星光
舞蹈在你的思绪中
你喜欢用爱情和词语快乐地燃烧
因此死于18杯威士忌
然后飞出生命的甜蜜痛苦
我来到地球时你早已飞走
你永远活在你迷梦般的诗歌中
我只能在你的诗歌中拥抱你的灵魂
而把月亮作为一朵圣洁的花
敬献给你那浪漫又疯狂的心灵
WILLIAM ZHOU (China)
Tribute to Dylan Thomas
You enjoyed the sound of nature in childhood,
Got drunk in the sound of people's words
You lived in words of wine, dreams and death
Watched at the starlight of death,
Dancing in your thoughts.
You liked burning happily with loves and words
So you died in the 18 cups of whisky
and then flew out of the sweet pain of life
When I came to the earth, you had flown away
You are living in your dreamy poetry forever
I can only embrace your soul in your poems,
And take the moon as a holy flower
to tribute your romantic and crazy mind.
WILLIAM ZHOU (China): Published Chinese, English and translated works in literary journals at home and abroad. He has won three National Poetry awards and three international poetry awards. His poems have been translated and published in eight foreign languages. He is now a life member of the World Poet Congress, a member of the Chinese Poetry Society.
https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2020/05/william-zhou.html
Tutto merita un canto…
- a Dylan Thomas -
Tutto là fuori merita un canto…
dai lecci antichi si levano ombre
e sul sentiero avanzano passi
il mare si gonfia e si colora di schiuma..
Tutto intanto merita un canto...
Il piombo scuro dilaga nel cielo
ma piove oro da squarci d’argento
Specchi di luce cavalcano onde
e nel vento suoni e profumi e canti antichi…
mentre tutto ancora merita un canto!
La roccia ferma e la terra che frana
i fiori tutti e i loro steli
l’esplosa ginestra nel sole
e il papavero umile e fiero
l’iris diritto sul ciglio del fosso…
Tutto allora merita un canto!
Il tronco crollato, il muschio dei sassi
la calda pietra che ci accompagna
le case strette ed i muri vicini
e le vigne basse nella terra sdraiate...
Il tuo dolce sorriso col mio respiro
ed il canto terrestre delle ere perdute
e l’urlo muto di chi è già caduto
e il lamento di chi ci lascia…
Fiori bianchi per la strada in silenzio
la saggezza muta dei nostri anziani
la vita di ognuno e la morte di chiunque altro.
Tutto, tutto davvero merita un canto!
Daniela Feltrinelli
Daniela Feltrinelli è nata a La Spezia dove vive e lavora.
A Maggio 2018 ha pubblicato il libro di poesie Isole vicine, Agorà&co, dedicato al paesaggio marino del Golfo dei Poeti, nel 2020 pubblica L'Incanto dell’onda. Partecipa assiduamente a concorsi letterari e reading di poesia.
E’ questa l’ora
a Dylan Thomas
La tua mano mi rassicura:
è questa l’ora di tornare alla luce
con un po’ di sole
strizzato tra le dita
e fuori immemore
la primavera, nuova e invissuta
ma determinata ad offrire parole
alla bellezza luminosa
del verde, alle sue mani
colme di tante speranze
in questo dirci e darci ancora,
oltre l’affanno
oltre l’inevitabile pena.
Donatella Nardin
Donatella Nardin is a multi awarded poet. She was born and lives in Cavallino Treporti -Venice. For Edizioni Il Fiorino, she published In attesa di cielo and Le ragioni dell'oro, for Fara Editore Terre d'acqua e Rosa del battito. Many of her lyrics and some of her stories are published in poetry collections, literary magazine and websites.
Dedicado a Dylan Thomas
Santo Thomas. Nuevo horizonte
Toma la sal de tu intelecto, piérdete en el tu inteligencia,
no el la mar alcohólica u en píldoras
del olvido.
El cuello y tus ojos radiantes. Eso permanece, con tus buenas intenciones,
que dejaste dobladas entre tus líneas
Cuídate.
Hay un oceano también en el recuerdo de tus palabras llanas.
Con olas sin desperdicios, colores sin cohartadas.
Tienes que verlo, esto: hijos sonrientes a la escucha,
y nietas que leen tu manta de palabras y se
enroscan en su mantra,
construyendo, atentas, nuevos caminos hacia la luz.
Y se acuerdan. De ti. De tu dulzura, aunque la escondida.
No te agarres a las garras ajenas, entre las sombras.
Escucha el viento, que lleva tu voz en nuevas hojas.
Tus hijos poéticos van a cultivar nuevos trigos, tanto en el campo cómo
en las bibliotecas,
van a comer un pan doble:
- comida, conocimiento - que piensan repartir, regando
la tierra con esperanza.
“En el mundo de los espíritus buenos no hay noche y día, solamente hay existe día”.
En este universo luminoso te dibujo con la calma de hoy.
Annelisa Addolorato
Annelisa Addolorato. Poet. She’s Italian, thinks and writes in Spanish and English. Loves Kung Fu. Has a degree in Philosophy - Aesthetics (Milan) and a Phd in Spanish Literature (Madrid), both on contemporary Poetry. Her Audiobooks LA FORMA DELLA TIGRE are on-line. https://www.facebook.com/laformadellatigre
A Morning Song for Dylan Thomas
As the sun turns in circles of
radiating brilliance casting its energy
into your brittle heart, You allow
yourself to bask in chards of paused
despair – Owning your daily destiny
finding an embracing permeating symphony –
Your emotions leaking endlessly into
the swelling cavities of Swansea.
As the moon receives a blush from the
rising sun, Your nightly inner rage is
captured by a morning chorus of activity
in hidden hedges of beauty where songs
are sung secretly in honour of your lexical
artistry – Your poetic mastery seeping into
our chemistry breaking our chains of stagnation
in a revelatory necessary sensation caused
by your inherited literary orchestration.
As the roots of trees anchor ever deeper into the
belly of the soil, so your legacy attaches itself
to the sinews of our hearts – Your tears water
our blue fears. Your insecurity humbles our
stubborn fragility causing a cacophony of
emotions urging us to rise from our obscurity
to enable us to proudly forge our own legacy
in order to prevent untouched fantasies...
As the lips of time utter stories yet to be told or
urging us to be bold to carve out our intended
destiny – Your echoing voice reach us over a
bridge of stars, igniting our desperate hearts –
Telling us to be victorious in battling the crooked
rose or stirring the quicksand of time to immortalise
timeless words of comfort and courage in the
catacombs of your shared knowledge.
You are sun.
You are moon.
You are roots.
You are the lips of time.
You are knowledge.
You are Dylan...
© Don Beukes
Don Beukes is a South African and British author of 'The Salamander Chronicles’, 'Icarus Rising-Volume 1’ and 'In Pursuit of Poetic Perfection’. His forthcoming book, 'Sic Transit Gloria Mundi’ is due to be published by Concrete Mist Press. He is originally from Cape Town and has a Pushcart nominee for Poetry. https://donbeukes.wordpress.com/
〈若妳還想讀我的詩〉
[謹向迪蘭·湯瑪斯致敬]
闔上眼
若妳還想讀我的詩
詩中沒有淚,只有輕得不能再輕的風
吹不乾妳臉上的痕
握緊手
若妳還想讀我的詩
詩中沒有哀求,只有輕得不能再輕的歌調
按壓不住妳胸口的起伏
允妳慷慨捐我兩行淚
阡陌樹花無窮,無一願眷顧別離
兩行淚買下此情,我的詩霜花摇落
足斷三日春風
張開妳的眼吧,若妳已不想讀我的詩
詩中沒有淚,只有輕得不能再輕的風
詩中沒有哀求,只有輕得不能再輕的歌調
莫讓,淚痕侵臉
莫讓,擾擾凡情胸中起伏
不用理會詩中的風
不用理會詩中的歌調
蔡澤民博士
Tsai, Tzemin Ition (Taiwan) Dr. Tzemin Ition Tsai (蔡澤民博士) is from Taiwan, Republic of China. He is a professor at Asia University (Taiwan). His literary works have been published in anthologies, books, journals, and newspapers in more than 40 countries. https://www.facebook.com/tzemintsai
Merkabah: Scale Form
of the mother hidden
and the shadowed head of pain
casting to-morrow like a thorn
.
Now I am lost in the blinding
One. The sun roars at the prayer’s end
- Vision and Prayer by Dylan Thomas
and after Woman Holding a Balance, painting by Johannes Vermeer
You notice the clever levels
of framing, but don't notice
the hope she carries in her
belly. She has turned brass
amid the array of luxuries
she has shed to a finer dull
just so no one can take it
from her. Those pearls ate
tongues before being cut
out of tight-lipped mouths;
the royal robe she drafted
from a sense of poverty
she may have watched in
faces of meditating seers,
the hunger for ascension
against lack of levitation.
Her scales are drawn with
cunning - the air has been
sketched to stay the string
from swaying. You see her
balancing visible phantoms
creeping over her neck
from where her back is
turned. She mastered
the shape of her hands
from keeping them out
of people's hearts, blue
sheen of thick slippery veins;
The calling heavy and luminous,
her face a sheet of ashen smear.
Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her works appear in a variety of literary venues, both print and online, including several anthologies by different presses. Recent publications have been Strange Horizons, Pedestal Magazine, Atlantean Publishing, Alban Lake Publishing, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been translated into Spanish, Greek, Albanian, Italian, Arabic and Persian. She is the co-author of a digital poetry chapbook entitled Nyctophiliac Confessions available through Praxis Magazine. More about her published works can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com
DYLAN
He always had an inkling for the sea,
That moondrift child with the seaweed curls,
His laughter melted seafoam,
Scooping up in shovels, the dwindling dregs
Patted into proud battlements,
Watched as the water slowly inundated
Crumbling moats and crooked towers,
To sink beneath the ever-growing storm.
His first kisses were at this quayside,
Soft, like wet sand, he took her
Mermaid hand in his; she shrank back,
Eyes wide as a seal's, afraid of
The coming tide. They lobbed pebbles
Ferociously at waiting rocks, placed
Seashells to ears, listened
To hear the flowing voices
Of Sirens, in the tide's
Ebb and fall.
And, in his later years,
Landlocked, would peer
Into the lulling froth of beer
And imagine mermaids
Pulling him back in again
To the dark and creamy depths...
….Caught out by Rhossili tides
They awaken from the belly of the Worm
To a Wonderland of giant bluebells,
Reflected across the gaping yawn of the bay
To distant shores and bobbing pygmy boats,
And feel themselves explorers
In a strange, exotic land...
Somewhere in a dim hotel,
He's a rocking boat,
All adrift;
She flashes him a fish-hook smile,
Reels him in, gills flapping,
But at his embrace, dissolves
Into bubbles,
Her laughter reverberates
Across the waters.
Rebecca Lowe
Rebecca Lowe is a performance poet and organiser of Talisman Spoken Word. She lives just around the corner from Dylan’s Cwmdonkin Park in Swansea. ‘Dylan’ is taken from her forthcoming collection ‘Blood and Water’, due to be published by The Seventh Quarry Press in November. She can be found on https://twitter.com/BeckyLowePoet
Poetry Bridegroom
i fall in love with words
from cosmic battles
framed in constant harmony,
i am a new cosmos
detaching
from the verbatim leaps
of rules,
from the old universe.
i am the lightworker
synchronizing
the infinite
and the definite,
from the battlefield
of eclipsed
rhythmic patterns,
down the alleys
of milk and honey.
Ceri Naz
Da qui a qui e da ora a ora.
Non altro spazio o tempo
per questo andare.
Ciascuno è fragore di gemma
che rompe il tronco
Vittorio Venuti
Psicologo e psicoterapeuta – Pittore e scrittore- Autore di numerosi libri di narrativa e saggistica. Interessato alla mail art, ha organizzato eventi in Sicilia e in Piemonte. Sue opere si trovano in collezioni private in Italia e all’estero.
Even when there is no star -
Stars are hidden,
moonlight maybe shunned from shining.
Just when hope seems lost,
the words of Dylan Thomas shine like a beacon.
The spirit of such "do not go gentle into that good night"
Waves of ocean awaken turning darkness into neon blue.
Spirit of Dylan shines
like the neon blue light even when there is no star.
© Juliet Preston
May 14, 2020
#CelebrateDylanThomas
Preston, Juliet (U.S.A.) Juliet Preston is an artist by passion, a poet by heart, and an engineer by profession //www.facebook.com/juliet.preston.7
Dylan, poesia dell’essere
Dylan Thomas,
la tua poesia
è levitazione dell’animo;
fornisce forza vitale,
si colloca
al più alto grado
di spiritualità.
Va al di sopra
della normalità,
è vortice inebriante
nell’immaginario,
suggestione culturale
dipinta
che mai finirà.
E’ palpitante emozione;
ricongiunge il soma
all’io lirico
tra aromi selvatici,
espressione dell’essere
amore
per l’umanità.
Sergio Camellini, nato a Sassuolo (Modena), è psicologo, studioso di arte povera della civiltà contadina e dei mestieri e poeta; ha scritto un libro sul linguaggio del corpo, un’opera omnia e dodici libri di poesie. Canta le piccole gioie, le fatiche del quotidiano, la natura, l’amore, i ricordi che portano a riflessioni sull'esistenza umana. Il suo dire esprime grande sensibilità e dolcezza, quindi, scivola ad inseguire versi ricchi di accelerazioni emotive. Ha conseguito diversi riconoscimenti sia in Italia che all'estero.