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Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Love from Cornwall - 1

Dear friend, thank you very much for your lovely letter which I enjoyed reading very much, (I understand your French very well), and for your photograph and postcards.

Sardegna is very pretty and i am very interested in it.

I have only one sister. She is 13 years old and is called Katherin, but I usually call her Kate. I have no brothers.

I am sorry I can not send you a photograph of my self yet, but i have  longer hair than I did last summer, but I promise to send you one as soon as possibile.

I attend a grammar school. I am in the 4th year and Katherin in in the 2nd year.

This term we do much athletics. I love athletics and we have a beautiful green sports field.

We do not learn golf at school but I work for a golf professional and his wife, who not having any children, treat me like their daughter and teach me free of charge.

I hope you like Rock beach. We live near this beach and it is very beautiful. There is a sailing club there.

Well, I hope you can understand this letter. If you cannot, tell me, and I will write in French.

Reply soon.

Love from Elem.

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Laissez faire, laissez passer!

Come on!
 Laissez faire, laissez passer!

Today is not time
To arrest people anymore!

Today is November the 9th 1989
There is not time
To stop goods anymore!

Come on!

One thousand dollars
Costs you
A full track!

At 9 past 21 p.m.
The wall is crashing down!
Laissez faire, laissez passer!

It’s crashing down
Together with our illusions
Their false promises
The wrong secular hope!

Come on! Let’s go worshipping
The glittering god!!!

In Berlin, on November 9th 1989

Thursday, November 6, 2014

About me

Like many poets I'm fundamentally a lonely man. But at a certain time of his life, a poet needs to share   knowledge and experiences with other poets. This time has come for me. I've been spending most of my fifty five years searching the reasons why we are living here, on this earth, just in this space-time, sometimes feeling like trapped in my body, and in order to focus better my thoughts I started writing down my emotions. That's why I discovered myself as a poet. Now I want to understand what is a poet for.

I think a poet is a man who asks himself some questions and tries to answer them for  the benefit of other people,  beyond his own's horizons.

 A poet is a mediator between God and man (or between Nature and man, we can say after Wordsworth, if we don't want to be involved with such a n engaging matter as God). I see the poet partly  as a prophet and partly  as a witness  of his time.  Of course a poet is a man like the others. As such he feels  his own emotions and deals diary with love, pain, sorrow, joyfulness (only some days are for joy, unfortunately).

But the poet is also an artist, which makes the difference. As any artist the poet utilises special tools to build up the handicrafts of his art. These tools, for the poet, are the form's devices, the meter, the rhyme, the rhythm and, of course, the words. The more he knows how to use these tools, the more the poet can hit answering in a fashioned form those funding questions which are essential part of the role he has to play in the society. It's worthless to add that the use of technical instruments  is supposed to improve the result in terms of emotion and pleasure the reader expects to receive from poetry.

My poetic production can be divided in two main parts: the first one is made of  something like seventy poems written in free verses  along thirty years, from 1976 to  2006. It is a mixing of sad, spiritual and love poems.

The second part, more conspicuous than the first, starts on 1996 when my father, before dying, gave to me a late seventeenth’s  manuscript fragments from an ancient, our Sicilian ascendant.

Developing and studying upon these fragments I find out that the original manuscript formerly contained,  on blank and rhymed verses,  56 Cantos including 73 books of the Holy Bible and  nineteen apocryphal books.

Until now I have succeeded in rebuilding all the Cantos regarding the Old Testament (which form the Poem of Creation, partly already edited) and the four Gospel with ten apocryphal which have been transfused in a novel, set in the sixteenth century with the title of “Four voices, one story”, still to be published.

This second part of my poetic work presents a varied metric range going from  ottava rima in decasyllables to  terza rima also of decasyllables passing through quatrains of seven syllables and some other classical metric forms mostly from Petrarch's devices such as Ballatas, Canzones and even Sonnets.

Being a husband, a father, a teacher and a lawyer, I have been composing  all this during night time and in my free summer time (when not reading some good lectures, which I know plenty).

 My revision process regards above all the translation of my works in to English language.

 It's quite hard and I don’t think I will be able to translate the entire Poem of Creation respecting the  accents and the rhymes the Cantos have in the original Italian form.

At the moment I succeeded in translating the First Canto (you can read part of it, if you find the  time to do it, both in my blog and in my personal web page at )

I would like to publish   this first Canto and some of my best poems in a book to be titled "Living Witness" A tribute for a New Romantic Poetry.  

Saturday, October 11, 2014

After the preacher

Probably published about  250 A.D. – Verses on terza rima

I fake of being the very wise King
whence to show you the deceptions of the world
What  appears to be  true
seems often someone  squaring the circle:
I’m not pessimistic but just  a real man!
What is worth to be joyous or sad?

Everything is vanity of vanities!
Vain it is the pleasure that oozes from love,
Vain is wisdom, and vain is  humbleness!

Vain is who lives and vain is who dies;
vain is stupidity that  pushes them low,
vain is the glory that induces  the honor!

Vain the accusation which offends by the stones,
vain the defense that indulges the punishments!
Vain it is to eat either soberly or  crassly,

vain the fast which dries up the veins;
vain is the  sunset and vain is the dawn!
Vain is also the river which goes by and by!

Vain every puff of wind and of bora,
vain is any event under the sun;
vain are the  current and vain are the early days

vain every hate and evil which aches;
vain is each effort or mental contest;
vain is to work at the mortar and grindstones;

vain to choose what  is worth or  not worth for!
Vain to be stoned  from the must,
vain is also each manual effort;

Vain  is want to be vain at any rate,
vain is the forgery and vain is the truth  
for people who  are bound to an identical fate!

Vainly  I look for You through thousands of  paths,
Please don’t be vain and treat me  sweetly

My unique Lord! 

Thursday, August 28, 2014

The broken violin

We all know that a violin is used to make sounds; at least since the great lutist in Cremona Stradivari and great genoan player Paganini have showed the world how enjoyble is to hear its music. They must be tossing and turning in their graves, knowing the way British Airways treats musicians and their instruments. 
As matter of fact, like reported by her friend Sara Avery,  B.A. forced a violin player flying for concerts with the above named flying company,  to check her violin. (Their policy doesn't allow instruments over 56 cm/22 in in length on board. Her only choices were to check it, leave it behind despite needing it for practicing + getting routine maintenance in the US, or forfeit a $3,000 plane ticket and perhaps her last chance to visit her elderly mother.)
2. They smashed it to bits.
3. They are paying her less than 1/4 of the appraised replacement value.
Until #BritishAirways changes their policy, it is not safe for musicians to fly BA with their instruments.

As a lawyer I'm not so sure that the way B.A. has behaved is utterly correct!
At least, according to italian law, the story shows a negligent and faulty behaviour to be blamed on charge of the international flying vector, though is reported that British Airways employees have made up their decisions against the safety of the Sara's friend's violin, obeyng, it's reported,  to their own regulation.
Nevertheless I would listen to a specialized lawyer, in order to find out if such rules, as those applied by B.A.,  are in line with good faith and right care which are required to any contractor all over in the world.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Berlin today

I've recently gone  to Berlin. Just a couple of days to break on the daily routine and take a breath outside the ordinary affairs.
It must sound evident, even lapalissian, that when you go somewhere, abroad or anywherelse, you are still yourself.
Nevertheless there is something new and different on you, when you are somewhwerelse from your ordinary space life.
I can't exactly say what this difference consists of,  but anyway you can feel it.
Every place, as matter of fact, has got its own imprint, a sort of sensitive character or personality.
May be is the astral conjunction or simply the geographic location; it might be the sorrounding's effect or, if you believe on it, the spirits of the good and  evil people already gone, but previously living there.
The ancient used to call it "The genius loci" which can be translated as "The character of the place" or something like that.
In Berlin that particular genius is made of open spaces, discretion, courtesy, a german spirit of efficient and steady intelligence and open sympathy.
I also felt the shadow of a wall, hanging somewhere, like a vagabond phantom searching for answers still to be given.
The same answers the poet searchs when he asks why people very often make their own way out of peaceful brotherhood.
Germans are now our brother in the name of Europe, in the name of Christianity, in the name of the common belonging to this place called  Earth Planet; but yesterday there were even two different kinds of Germans: eastern and western Germans!
The genius of Berlin is young, fresh, enjoyable!
Yes, you can enjoy Berlin!!!

Friday, August 1, 2014

What life is for - IV and V

Scene IV
(Soon after a clock beats up five o’clock, someone knocks at the entrance door)
Francesco (detaching himself)
            - Someone has knocked at the door! May be  Max is back.

Brenda (going  to open the door)
-  He often forgets his own  keys when I’m at home, though I’m  waiting for someone at five o’clock!

Jonathan(Enters with a bag on his shoulder)
-Hello Brenda! Where’s old Max! I got a present for him in this bag!!!

Brenda (with surprise)
-It’s you, Jon?!? Welcome!! Max is coming back soon! Leave your present in your bag, please!  I want to introduce to you a good italian friend of ours…….

Scene V

After they hear knocking at the door, Brenda goes to open it

(Enter  Inspector Green and his two policemen)

Insp. Green (while entering, showing his badge)
-Everybody keep steady, please! That’s a legal search! (to Jonathan) And you Norman or Vincent or  whatever   you have been named in your fucking Jamaica,  give us that bag!!! 

Jonathan ( still with his hand in the bag)
-I don’t think there is nothing interesting a legal search in my bag!!!

Insp. Green ( with sarcastic smile)
-Don’t worry about that, maroon! It’s up to us  the valuation, isn’t it boys???

First PM
-Come on , young boy! Don’t make the Inspector been upset…

Second PM
            - And I’m also very nervous indeed!!!

-I’m telling you that there is only a present for my friend’s Max birthday!!!!

Insp. Green(still sarcastic)
-Well! Why not? A very good present from Jamaica…

First PM (getting closer and grabbing Jon’s bag)
-Let’s see your present…

Second PM (drawing the pack out )
-I’ll try a guess! It weighs  a pound…more and less

Insp. Green (tearing off the paper)
-Bloody Hell! Someone is kidding up!!! What does this book here mean  ?

Jonathan (catching the paper from the floor in a very nervous voice)
-I believe I’ve told you a few times before, haven’t I? I hope you have some good paper to wrap it up again!!!!

First PM (grabbing the book)
-The Trilogy of Don Juan!!

Second PM (sneering)
-Who is going to read such a boring thing?!?

Jonathan (grabbing violently the book from his hands)
-I doubt you would be  able to understand an only word of it!!!

Insp. Green (emptying the bag’s content on the floor)
-Well ! OK! Let’s stop messing around! You give us the stuff and we all be all right? Where is that pound of grass from Jamaica?

Jonathan (always  angrier collecting his things from the floor)
-Listen to me now! My name is Jonathan Close! J, o, n, ‘you know? Without any h! My father is Jew ‘ you know? Though I can reasonably suppose that my ancestor’s bones rest in the English ground much  before than yours’s! When in life they were famous for other pounds of different stuff….now  if you’re looking for any grass either you go in to my house’s lawn or you catch a plane right to your beloved Jamaica, all right???

Insp. Green

            - All right! You have well played your role, young boy! Just collect your things and let’s work out our business!! Who is the landlord here?