Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
in Poems (Author's Poems)
If I should'nt be alive
When the Robins come,
Give the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb -
If I could'nt thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I'm trying
With my Granite lip!
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The best Author's Poems
Posted by: Elisabetta
in Poems (Author's Poems)
If you can't be a pine at the top of the hill,
be a shrub in the valley.
But be the best little shrub on the side of the hill.
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.
If you can't be a highway, just be a trail.
If you can't be a sun, be a star.
For it isn't by size that you win or fail.
Be the best of whatever you are.
Try to understand the picture
that you're drawn to be,
then start realizing it in your life.
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Posted by: Davide Bidin
in Poems (Author's Poems)
Part of the morning stars
The moon and the mail
The ravenous X, the raving ache,
-the moon Sittle La
Pottle, teh, teh, teh,
The poets in owlish old rooms
who write bent over the words
know that words were invented
because nothing was nothing
In use of words, use words,
the X and the blank
And the Emperor's white page
And the last of the Bulls
Before spring operates
Are all lotsa nothin
which we got anyway
So we'll deal in the night
in the market of words.
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Posted by: Gabriella Stigliano
in Poems (Author's Poems)
I live my life in widening circle
That reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
But I give myself to it.
I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
And I still don't know: am I a falcon,
A storm, or a great song?
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Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
in Poems (Author's Poems)
Mine - by the Right of the White Election!
Mine - by the Royal Seal!
Mine - by the Sign in the Scarlet prison -
Bars - cannot conceal!
Mine - here - in Vision - and in Veto!
Mine - by the Grave's Repeal -
Titled - Confirmed -
Delirious Charter!
Mine - while Ages steal!
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in Poems (Author's Poems)
I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power,---that the path before me was closed,
that provisions were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.
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Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
in Poems (Author's Poems)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
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Posted by: Marzia Ornofoli
in Poems (Author's Poems)
But we oppress our natures, God or Fate Is our enemy, we starve
and feed On vain repentance- O we are born too late!
What balm for us in bruised poppy seed Who crowd into one finite
pulse of time The joy of infinite love and the fierce pain of infinite
crime.
O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, wearied of pleasures
paramour despair, wearied of every temple we have built,
wearied of every right, unanswered prayer, for man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-colored moment: one great love: and lo!
we die.
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With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that design might cover their face,
with usura
hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harpes et luz
or where virgin receiveth message
and halo projects from incision,
with usura
seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly
with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour
with usura the line grows thick
with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling.
Stonecutter is kept from his tone
weaver is kept from his loom
WITH USURA
wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura is a murrain, usura
blunteth the needle in the maid's hand
and stoppeth the spinner's cunning. Pietro Lombardo
came not by usura
Duccio came not by usura
nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin' not by usura
nor was 'La Calunnia' painted.
Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,
Came no church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.
Not by usura St. Trophime
Not by usura Saint Hilaire,
Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling
Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man's courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
CONTRA NATURAM
They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet
at behest of usura.
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Posted by: Giulio Pintus
in Poems (Author's Poems)
Through the long years
I sought peace,
I found ecstasy, I found anguish,
I found madness,
I found loneliness,
I found the solitary pain
that gnaws the heart,
But peace I did not find.
Now, old and near my end,
I have known you,
And, knowing you,
I have found both ecstasy and peace,
I know rest,
After so many lonely years.
I know what life and love may be.
Now, if I sleep,
I shall sleep fulfille.
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