NaPoWriMo: Day 5…Who knows…

Scongelare*

Doli agreed with me about the pleasure,

though twisted,  to be found in action-less love,

through the act of loving, not taking measure,

not caring why or how it came to be, of

 

not knowing when or where it will go, loving

simply because there is no other choice but

to love, disregarding old boundaries, trusting

the depth of time to heal any old wounds, cut

 

through the bitterness that hardens our hearts

every time we love and then lose ourselves

in that loving, that careless tossing of parts,

that ultimate destruction of self that delves

 

too deeply within us, rooting us to

the bitterness of having said  “I love you.”

 

 

(Scongelare means to figuratively unfreeze, or literally defrost)

 

Le poesie nuove

Lasciare il passato

L’ ho abbandonato
lo specchio

insieme con le storie
Dopo tutto,
chi vuole essere una storia?

Al contrario,
(e la vita è sempre contraria)
chi non vorrebbe piacere di avere una storia?

Non importa.
In questo momento l’ho trovato.
Qualcosa più importante,

cioé ho travota la mia belleza

nascosta
Come la verità
che credi io non dica mai,

 forse.

Comunque guardami
se vorresti scegliere
di sentirti come me.

Scoprimi mentre
comincio a sconvolgere,
a frantumare

il mio comportamento
il mio specchio
me stesso esterno

insieme con tutte delle storie
in cui noi crediamo che possiamo
 trovare la nostra belleza,

in cui noi non possiamo
trovare ci stessi
o la nostra verità.

-db

La nera

Ogni giorno
io indosso
qualcosa di nero.

Ogni giorno
mi guardate,
qualcosa di nero,

qualcosa di strano,
qualcosa di cui dovete
avere paura

come l’oscurità
della notte quando,
anche, voi diventate

qualcosa di nero.
-db

Melancholy

“Her Name is Melancholy” by FlyPi  (http://flypi.deviantart.com/)

L’ombra di me stessa

Che cos’è questa?
La tua casa dell’anima,
lo specchio perso, anche il tuo,
la finestra dimenticata a cui non possono
la vedere attraverso i tuoi occhi… come me.

Per te tutto è buio, un’oscurità
in cui siamo sospesi tra il cielo e la terra,
dove non si può ritrovare se stessi
senza la sofferenza dell’attesa
inutile, di niente.

Questa, dicesti, è la verità della vita,
in cui possiamo sempre credere.
Comunque ci sentiamo sicuri?
C’è pace qua nella realtà costruita
dalla paura vivente?

Non dovrò abbracciarla,
la casa senza futuro,
l’anima senza passato.
Lasciami ai miei sogni d’oro.
Non pensare mai più di costruire.

-db

Seasons’ loss and reason

You, like falling leaves upon a lotus
pond.  I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost,
fading circles of love circuitous
as my fingertips create ripples lost.

Then crystal-iced, sunlit, dew-touched, loved.
Unknowingly caught enraptured by id
wrought.  Encompassed as a seed beloved
but stifled by unnourished earth unwanted.

But knowledge and keys to hearts once given
prove only useless tools to fools who know
naught of winter’s cold. They harden, unrisen,
unwisely plant seeds in autumn with hope

of a lotus blossom amidst snowfall,
frost, and grasp at love formed, fading crystals.

-db

(The above poems are revisions.  I would be appreciative of any feedback, including corrections on the ones in Italian.  Thanks!)

Until next time,

D.

Silence and sonnets…

Yes, I have been quite quiet for some days now.  Of course, I could give reasons for this, including the rampant flu that only seems to morph in form week after week in order to give the average Roman resident as well as tourist an unwelcomed surprise.  I shan’t go into all of that.  Instead I want simply to write about the end result of this period of silence, which has been a decision to try my hand at writing a sonnet.

Some people are aware that I am currently a participant in a poetry workshop at my university.  It is due to my experiences in this workshop that I decided to broaden my poetic scope and try my hand at form (outside of my beloved haiku)–I will state that writing in form has proven quite challenging (but a fun way) to me.

Over the course of the last week, our workshop was on a hiatus while our professor attended a conference in the U.S.  During that time, however, it was my lot (and three others) to prepare poems for our next gathering.  This should not have proven a source of anxiety or consternation given that I have a large body of poetic work that I would love about which I would gratefully receive feedback.  The problem was that I wanted to write something new.  I wanted to see if I could write in forms, such as the sonnet or the villanelle, as my peers had already done.  Thus, Sunday (because I like last minute pressure) I sat down to write a sonnet.

Here is the first version, about which I received feedback yesterday:

Awakening

By Diedré M. Blake

You, like falling leaves upon a lotus

pond.  My fingertips create ripples lost,

fading circles of love circuitous

and I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost,

once; crystal-iced, sunlit, dew-touched; when loved,

unknowingly caught enraptured by id

wrought.  Encompassed as a seed beloved

but stifled by an unnourished earth unbid.

But knowledge and keys to hearts once given

prove only useless tools to fools who know

naught of winter’s cold, harden, unrisen,

unwisely plant seeds in autumn with hope

of a lotus blossom amidst snowfall,

frost, and grasp at love without wherewithal.

With great trepidation I read my sonnet to my peers and professor (who is an exceptional poet of sonnet form).  The reception was mostly positive and the verbal feedback was not overly critical.  The written feedback gave me pause for thought.  Thus, last night I made the following edit.

You, falling leaves upon a lotus

pond.  My fingertips create ripples lost,

fading circles of love circuitous

and I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost.

Then crystal-iced, sunlit, dew-touched, loved.

Unknowingly caught enraptured by id

wrought.  Encompassed as a seed beloved

yet stifled by an unnourished earth unbid.

But knowledge and keys to hearts once given

prove only useless tools to fools who know

naught of winter’s cold, harden, unrisen,

unwisely plant seeds in autumn with hope

of a lotus blossom amidst snowfall,

frost, and grasp at love formed, fading crystals.

So, now I am without a title… I need to find one, but have no clue.  If you have any thoughts or general feedback, I would love to hear it.

Now, off to try my hand at that villanelle!

Until next time..

Best,

D.