It’s here the haze
of the grey spindrift of this sirocco day.
Haze and roar spreading on the tarmac
even before the end of the avenue.
The sea in the heartbeat but not yet visible.
A huge breath of damp light into the pines,
the dishevelled branches like many a Don Quixote
in the crowd of the waves’ echoes and fists
and on the hotel white walls an invisible
audience’s uninterrupted clapping.
The swooping clamour of hearing eyes.
A flashing forwardness.
You are going to it, for the umpteenth time
that is always a first time.
Towards the relentless beginning.
You were here once as a desire only
then as a will in the blood,
the river within us meeting what’s all about us,
nodding at the approaching
brewing, foamy gusts
and racing ghosts,
at the swelling, seeping and flooding.
The mothers. Whatever.
The leash now pulls more strongly,
you are almost running.
4 comments:
English is your second language, mine too, Davide: I am Spanish.
Being Dulcina ( I dared not use Dulcinea) I had to hear Don Quixote's call. :)
Well, your poem has taught me some very interesting vocabulary; for instance the word umpteenth.
I have enjoyed your poem very much, especially these two lines which describe the difference between mere passion and real love perfectly:
You were here once as a desire only
then as a will in the blood,
The structure of your work is smart. Once you have created the suitable atmosphere for the rest of the poem, she appears on the scene. The running end is...no end to me at all: the leash now pulls more strongly, what a cool image!
Apart from the lines I mentioned before, I also like these ones:
-The swooping clamour of hearing eyes.
-You are going to it, for the umpteenth time
that is always a first time.
-nodding at the approaching
brewing, foamy gusts
and racing ghosts,
at the swelling, seeping and flooding.
Davide-Tommaso, nice to meet you!
:)
(Sorry for deleting my first comment)
You were here once as a desire only
then as a will in the blood,
the river within us meeting what’s all about us,
nodding at the approaching
brewing, foamy gusts
and racing ghosts,
This, for me, is sheer dynamite. Loaded with power and meaning.
Thank you Dulcina, I think you have a blog. I am going to visit it now. This poem has been very recently rearranged since I had very few days ago the same perception going to the beach I had had the first time I wrote the poem, with something new now...
The leash pulling strongly was being pulled by my dog eager to reach the beach.
Thank you Dave, I am very glad of the sheer dynamite.
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