I wrote this when I was out there and, like the cheap local plonk you love when abroad, I think this has gone a little stale on the way back home.
Tuscany
In every frescoed hall
The dying moments
Of an unknown saint,
Canonized in oil on stone.
In the fields, grapes grow fat on the vine.
Warm terracotta nestles on terraces;
In a sighing chair an old, old woman
Marks off the seasons with her rosary.
In Siena, vias lead like veins
To the Campo, beating in summer
To the sound of hooves,
The pulse of steaming flesh.
Too soon the autumn
Dampens the cobbles.
In the cool darknesses of the Duomo
Guided tourists seek an ancient god,
As if he hid amongst the pillars.
Still the scent of incense lingers
Though the chalices are tarnished,
Denuded by the cameras' flash
As by the eroding grasp of adoring fingers.
Pavements paced for slow centuries
Now suffer a million curious feet.
In countless coffee shops
Life persists amongst the ruins of the glorious dead.
And still the woman counting.
Tuscany
- dillingworth
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Last edited by dillingworth on Fri Aug 19, 2005 8:17 pm, edited 3 times in total.
makes me want to visit the place, possibly live there. Good contrast of ancient Italy with modern Italy.
- willyum
- willyum
- dillingworth
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thanks for your comments, i really appreciate it. i hope to post another poem up here soon.
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This starts off so well, has so many wonderful lines,
In every frescoed hall
The dying moments
Of an unknown saint,
Canonized in oil on stone.
...
Too soon the autumn
Dampens the cobbles.
...
Though the chalices are tarnished,
Denuded by the cameras' flash
to chose, just a few that appealed to me
a few can be improved, this is OK...
"The air thick with steaming flesh."
Well, this one would be bad in a mediocre poem
"Now bear the bustling feet of busy millions."
But as this has almost no false steps, it sticks out like a sore toe, and buzzes in my ear as something I've heard before.
A tribute to your writing, one loser line, a better ratio than most published.
In every frescoed hall
The dying moments
Of an unknown saint,
Canonized in oil on stone.
...
Too soon the autumn
Dampens the cobbles.
...
Though the chalices are tarnished,
Denuded by the cameras' flash
to chose, just a few that appealed to me
a few can be improved, this is OK...
"The air thick with steaming flesh."
Well, this one would be bad in a mediocre poem
"Now bear the bustling feet of busy millions."
But as this has almost no false steps, it sticks out like a sore toe, and buzzes in my ear as something I've heard before.
A tribute to your writing, one loser line, a better ratio than most published.
- dillingworth
- Prolific Poster
- Posts: 455
- Joined: Wed Aug 17, 2005 2:53 pm
- Location: Oxford, UK
thanks for that - i agree with you and have made a couple of edits on the original post.
hi D,
Good stuff - I loved the opening stanza, in fact this is quite good as a travel diary-poem ( what an excellent idea )
not too stale at all - you captured the impressions of the place beautifully, with interesting contrasts amd prefer this to modern italy
can we have some more ?
cheers
Arco
Good stuff - I loved the opening stanza, in fact this is quite good as a travel diary-poem ( what an excellent idea )
not too stale at all - you captured the impressions of the place beautifully, with interesting contrasts amd prefer this to modern italy
can we have some more ?
cheers
Arco