last moon

Visualizzazione post con etichetta questions. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta questions. Mostra tutti i post

lunedì 18 maggio 2026

What is a poet?

 


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H44DYF7

Some say a poet

Is a master of words

bringing emotions

Is that to be a poet?

Maybe he is, but I’m not so sure

I’ve always thought

A poet was a sort of prophet

Showing a way to walk through

But I’m not so sure anymore

I just wanted to be happy, not a poet…

But I’m not so sure even on that 

If I were happy would not be a poet…

But a poet is not just a rhymer, or a verse maker…

A poet is a searcher for love!

I know

We need something new in the world…

A new way of loving

 

Then I discovered Jesus

His life, His message

That’s true love!

venerdì 28 settembre 2012

And then four crows will fly away- third part



-“The same day I knew by my teacher that I was the only heir of my mother’s estates, and that since the day of her death, whose he had been the honest and prudent administrator , as he would show to me in his detailed account. That man, I had so much hated and blamed, now that his ungrateful charge had come to end, seemed to me good and comprehensive, and his words calmed for a few time my incurable pain. By now, however, I had also to think about my life, and in those places I would never succeeded in shaking off me my sad past. I begged the reverend to continue to administer my goods and I departed, to the discovery of the world. I travelled at first through the United States, then I went to Canada, Australia, New Zealand. After I visited Europe, without never finding the courage to return to my country. Tired of the European Countries, among which I mostly liked your Italy , I departed to India and finally, always curious of new lands, I went to Africa. Neither women, neither alcohol, nor drugs not even the vices which I was devoted in those years succeeded in cancelling my bitter memoirs, until one day, while I was sojourning in Kenya, I fell ill, prey of strong fevers. Not a lot, then I gave, to live or die, but the Fate, had evidently prepared, that I survived, so that the programs could be realized, whose I will have the honor and the pleasure to communicate to you. Revealed therefore from the illness, I returned to America aiming however to south, that I had not visited yet. Going up again homeward, I stayed for a long time in Mexico, that not little fascinated me. By now being satisfied my curiosity of the world, I preferred to take over again my studies, more strongly and surely than before. I was akin of all: medicine, biology, physics, mathematics, chemistry, hidden sciences, illusionism, magic arts, engineering, electronics, astrology, philosophy, astronomy, sociology, anthropology, theology, ethnology, history, juridical, economic and political sciences and every other thing attracted my mind curious of reaching new knowledge. During the numerous years of my following study, it happened on me a gradual mutation that flowed, hitherto a short time, in a great, bright revelation. I had realized, deepening on studies that any single subject lost, little by little, until vanish, its own contours and that all acquired information met in a bubbly melting pot, to form just one, immense nucleus of knowledge. Yes, dear friends: our knowledge is an original, total unity. The single disciplines of human knowledge are but the infinitesimally small fragments that the mankind looks hopelessly for recomposing in to the aboriginal unity. Two were the necessary consequent corollaries to this thrilling discovery. The first one is that the brain of both animal and human beings constitutes, though at a different evolutionary stadium, a microscopic part of the primordial totality. The second is that human thought search, yet in a blind and messy manner, to recompose, at a mental level, the great, primitive explosion, the Big-Bang, through a long and fatiguing marching back, up to the innumerable light years that separate it, from an equal, roaring and powerful implosion. And if you consider that our mind speculates in the space-time as fast as speed-light, this kind of final Big-Imbang will appear less far than any hasty forecast.

 From the original ignazio s. basile's  italian novel.  English version by the same author
...to be continued...

sabato 11 febbraio 2012

Would it be love?




Would it be love
If I close   my mind to you
There locking
All the deepest
 feelings of my life?

Would it be love
If I don’t need you
To share jointly
All the troubles
of my soul?

Would it be love
If I am shy
To caress you
Though I’d like
To melt on
My  energy’s body
With yours?

It might only be
Love against fear
As we are not made only by stuff?

Do we impoverish
Our bodies
‘cause of our minds
Or  we  are declassing our minds
Through our own  bodies?

Would it be love
If I like you only first
And after I don’t?

In Cagliari,  September 1983