Posts Tagged With: trees

sculpture in a living wood (experimental prose poem)


i still fear heavy furniture particularly that made of black polished rotten wood … i wouldn’t visit anymore museums or antiquity houses even if they had no mirrors a sad song for a blue heart grows between me and the round burnt clay … i don’t admire anymore clavichords with encrusted roses the two inherited paintings are blaming me for everything i couldn’t forget … one day the furniture started to crackle as if it were a mad crickets’ song in full sunshine … with my heart bumping from stop to stop i ran in the street but the clouds didn’t come to let me run barefooted in the rain to fall like a discharged lightning in the gutter’s mud …

so many ant hills and so many wild beehives were built in my marrow … i stay underneath sighing heavily and i see i feel through my fingertips their march from corner to corner … i never got along with insects it is my fault … except for the summertime butterflies and at most dragonflies weddings or autumn ladybugs … lately i found i can speak the language of mites i wake up at night when one of them climbs over my bed i can predict every newcomer regardless of its size … maybe my blood is like old wine now and my heart measures the time along with the insects until the earth takes a rest in winter … and in march even if it is on annunciation day the same cross will weigh on our backs the same chain of wild weaknesses ties us to the living forest where trees fall on their feet …

i understood late that between me and the moon there is only one acrobatic vault in a spider’s web … much too late …

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Categories: My Poems in 2012 | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Greenery III


After passing over those broken branches we continued walking for a while. Then in front of me another beautiful image crafted by wild nature appeared. A kind of hall room in that emerald castle, where trees covered in wild creeping vines looked like columns. The sky opened there. Captivated by that image I didn’t pay attention to what my mother said … she said that finally we arrived at our destination and there was our place. Once it was a vineyard, then my family planted young plum trees instead. The grass was mowed down, plastic bottles hung on trees to protect them from wild animals. This lot was stretching between vineyards. Looking closer I could see that the vines on the right were deserted, no one could care for them. Still they were heavy with grapes, another moment to meditate about the fate of fruitful nature growing wild. Mother found on our soil a wild peach tree and we tasted its fruits. I sat down for a while, looking towards the distant mountains.

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Time to return home following the same road. Suddenly I saw a withered leaf captive in a cobweb before touching the ground. A long flight home. The green green leaves shining around it. Like me, sad to come back that day. The tunnel seemed even lower this time, it was more difficult to pass under the vaults.

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On both sides of the tunnel grew different weeds. I was amazed to find there a kind of bur umbrella leaf, remembering my childhood when I made holes in such leaves, looking towards the sun. Another common weed was shedding its fluff, which I believed it was magic when I was a child.

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To be continued…

Categories: Memories | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Greenery II


We continued our walk through the green tunnel.  My mother wasn’t sure where our garden was, but we hoped to find it.   I was sweating,  feeling tired,  marching and stopping to shoot pictures from time to time.  And then…a moment of nostalgia and bitter-sweet memories came on my way.  A crossroads.   The same  I knew when I was a child,  I knew where both roads led and I remembered that 30 years ago there was a sweet natural spring flowing down towards the village from that crossroads.  Now it was dry, when I was a child I was leaping over it,  now we had to go on our way,  on the right.   I felt like crying without tears,  missing those days when I played there as a child,  when my grandmother was still alive.  The left pathway led to a road above the city church,  where only houses in ruins remained ever since I was a child.  I don’t know if the ruins are still there,  that day I didn’t get there.  After the crossroads there was a clearing on that road,  the green tunnel looked like a closed eye and we continued our walk inside.

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Some of the images surrounding me were frightening. Very tall trees or cut down trees, trees with strange appearances stretching their entangled limbs towards the sky. After passing along one of these trees my mother believed we reached our orchard and left the path, entering the vine area on the right. I was waiting below while she climbed there to check if our garden was there. I felt something strange, something attracting me or maybe unconsciously I spotted that creature who was standing still in that warm afternoon. Exactly there were we stopped for a while. It was a cross spider, big and brown, the kind of spiders I haven’t seen since childhood, when I was very afraid of them. That day I felt a kind of fascination combined with fear and disgust. I stayed there trying to capture the spider in a photo for minutes. I used the zoom on my camera and then I continue the walk on the same path, because my mother was back in front of me, we were still searching for our plum trees.

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So my mother was calling me because I spent too much time in fear of that spider and now she was in front of me at a far distance, and she believed we were approaching our destination. I had to pass through darker tunnels, where the vegetation was touching the ground, where the tunnel was narrow, bowing under branches that were almost scratching my back.

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Another clearing in the greenery… This time another difficult step forward. In front of us a broken old apple was blocking the pathway. We had to pass over it carefully, for me it was harder with my camera in my hand. A moment of meditation about life and death, about the fate of old trees who gave many fruits through the years. That was not a wild tree, but a rare species, which name I don’t know. I was feeling sad about this time passage.

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To be continued…

Categories: Memories | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Impassive Forest Ballad


Some of the beautiful trees
after becoming accustomed
to winnow and cut the air
for quite some time
ended like lively official papers
of my ingratitude
(getting along in peace with winds
or other important relationships
they really stood firmly in their roots
as if to be noticeable)
accusing me with calm composure
that I forgot the present moment
and after all I’m afraid of my own breath
Was it all that just a saw moan?

Categories: My Poems in 2008 | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sensibility


I had asked the tree’s bark
why pain roughens my body.
The forest frowned with all its wrinkles,
pointing to the sky.
Sunbeams were spinning
like clock needles between clouds,
and I figure it out
that the sun washes my daytime
then falls asleep in the blue valley
besides the horizon.

I set my head down on naked earth
waiting for evening to come.
My heart was tired like a well,
fed by the same blood
through which light uncovers the world
flowing in my eyes.

Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

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