Dear blog friends, the poem I am enclosing to this post is one of the most "difficult" probably I have ever written and also the one which underwent more changes. I am sure it was published in the past, I don't remember where, but it was different, certainly with a very different conclusion. It's part of a series of poems about the notion and feeling of "heaven". I would like, in time, to put the others of the series in this blog.
I am not sure I will ever submit to any journal the present version of this poem, I am afraid it may sound obscure or, as some editor can put it, "dense" which is an adjective I think has got a negative meaning, basically, which it hasn't in the very similar Italian "denso" that only means thick from a materially point of view.
Anyway this poem continues to be one of my dearest. If some of view finds it obscure or whatever, well...even a not encouraging comment will be very well accepted.
QUEST
Looking for those roses that
-Had the look of flowers that are looked at-
you keep longing
for the sharp wind
that can hone your will
and make your gait spare
cleansing your acts to the bone;
you remember when you could guess,
on horseback,
the dashing intent of a vein in the air,
your legs giving the right pressure
to the horse’s flanks,
your heart and his already beyond the fence;
or the appropriate twinkle in your gaze,
your voice a light, guessing gust
when you called your dog
back to the leash,
you knew before knowing that he would come.
Heaven, a thin dashing line
on a hidden side-road,
where roses ask for a stare to reciprocate
and your will grows
trying to be perfectly lost in the air
in dots of blue, somewhere
towards the horizon
that, you know well, can claim you
just quietly and quickly, in a blink.
4 comments:
you knew before knowing that he would come.
Heaven, a thin dashing line
on a hidden side-road,
where roses ask for a stare to reciprocate
and your will grows
trying to be perfectly lost in the air
in dots of blue, somewhere
towards the horizon
that, you know well, can claim you
just quietly and quickly, in a blink.
After reading your comment on Dave King's blog I come to find this...Astonishing!!
Yes, remarkable coincidence. The Internet strikes again. The poem? Well, that's one of your best, I think. Top drawer. Hope you agree.
A marvelous poem. All the things we were certain of in the past, where we look for and at our treasure. Although I see the possibility for many interpretations in the entire poem, I was brought up short by the line "you knew before knowing that he would come". There seems to be synchronisity among the postings of Dave King, Jinksy, my own and "Quest". Dave used the word eerie - I agree.
Thank you Jinski, Dave and Ann for your comments...sincronicity and coincidence are really remarkable and yes, Dave, internet strikes again. If it weren't for poetry I would use internet much, much less.
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