Little Messy

Little Messy was so sad

Stand her name was so hard.

Long time ago her mum gave it to her

and she loved it till the end.

Only Messy hated her name,

it was like a punch in her eyes.

She thought it was wrong,

she wasn't messy, at all.

Everyone was completely sure 

that the order was far from her.

And she always denied,

or at least she tried.

At the end she lost her self,

in a little messy place!

She's the one Who knows everything..

She's the God of knowledge. She is the one who you have to prey if your History project is completely undone, and the due is for TOMORROW!

You will find here in schools, churches, library, sometimes in the discussions between friends, but sometimes you will search for her, and you will be surprise to don't find her at all!

Anyway, Just remember, she has a name, and if you want, you have just to ask for Wikipi'!

Untitled #1

"It little profits

that an idle king,

by this still hearth'

among these barren crags

matched with an aged wife"

This was surely his favorite poem.

Can you imagine why?

Look at him, look his wife,

take a look also to his life.

Can you see something wrong?

I don't think so, also because

you can't see anything at all.

No fun, no smile,

no happiness, neither for a while.

Boring life on his own,

in their castle they were alone.

He could remember long time ago

when love and passion matched them in one soul.

but the time burned the flame

and no one can be called for this "Blame".

His work was boring,

his wife annoying,

his life completely a mess.

The last word you can see on his medical folder is: DEPRESS!

my literary magazine

I think we should make our magazine on  the "behaviors", so use stories and poems about he people, what we are, our more hided secrets, what people shows to the rest of the world and what people tries to hide to everyone!!

I think in our class everyone has once written something about strange people, or simplest, about the Human being!!

also we should use pictures of us, or pictures drawn by us, is our magazine, is our work!!

narrative poem

I could tell you the story of the old girl who become a trapeze artist

or about the boy who joined My Circus looking for happiness,

but at the end found only a sad sad ocean of troubles,

and despite of that if you ask him if he would like to do all this again,

he will answered "YES!"

I could also tell you the story of one of our funniest clown,

but you will be surprised to know that he was the most pessimistic man I've never known.

I've been in this Circus for a long long time;

I was there when the Beautiful Girl arrived.

She was... Beautiful, of course, but this is not all.

She joined the Circus, but none knows why.

She took here fresh air, and everyone loves her.

She fall in love with our young Gymnast. He was in love with her.

One day they went away together.

One day he came back alone.

None knows what happened, he doesn't talk at all now.

I could tell you a lot of story about the people who comes here to see us.

And more and more stories about us,

or if you want you can come and see with your eyes

what I mean when I say:

" One day you come, one day you die,

none matters who you are between this time!!"

underneath the rubble a key lay

underneath the rubble a key lay. It seems to be very old an heavy: let's go catch it and try to understand what it would open. I took the key with my hand, and then I heard a voice: " It's funny the story about why the key is there"
I look at the key and then asked :" what is that story?"
"A long time ago" -the voice started- "there was, norther to this city, an old caste, where used to live our most important family. They were a noble family, the most rich and powerful of our country.
None could enter in the castle, only them, the family's members. They didn't have friends, no slavery: none that wasn't one of them had ever seen the castle.
The big gold key you are holding was the key of the main door: the father of the family used to have it around his neck, with a small gold chain."
I held the key harder, and waited for the next..
"when they were walking in the city everyone was outside to see them: they were awesome, but they had never invited one form this city to one of the huge parties the used to made o the castle.
the guests used to arrive from far far away,and used to be to the castle for a while, then they used to go away as they arrived: without a reason, without big noises.
the time passed and the people of the village started to be angry with them: they seemed to live in another planet, and never cared about what the village thought of them.
one day a arrived to the village a group of strange people. It was night, and they asked directions for the castle: none wasted time and in few minutes all the village was giving them the right directions to get to the castle. what can do the jealousy.
But they weren;t here for a party. As soon as they arrived to the castle started the biggest fight ever, and all the village had clear why they never invited us to their parties : the were vampires, and they were hiding from their biggest enemies...we had just let them to find our protectors family.
As you can see, nothing is left after the war. Their enemies won, and then destroyed everything..and kill them all".
Still holding the key I turned around to see my story teller, I saw only an old black cat. He looked at me, and said " that's all my friend", them he jumped away, leaving me completely shocked!

The Batman

they thought it was a funny name:
the Batman; ok, my intention were these,
be like an idol,
but can you imagine a batman that hates bats?

the first months was great!
Then for every stupid guy that tried to do something stupid,
They called me...every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME.
it's kinda boring.

you cannot take shower after work,
that someone want to steal from a bank.
And the police? “where is the problem?!”
“we can call that Batman, he will solve everything.”

and i hate bats, I'm afraid of bats;
they're everywhere, and they fly, through my hair...it's terrible!
I don't know why i decided for the bats
I've always hated them.

Now I cannot close my eyes that I see bats everywhere.
they think it's funny, show me every time bats..
but I cannot sleep in night..
I'LL HATE THEM FOREVER!

Last Blues To Be Read Some Day

't was only a flirt 

you sure did know- 

some one was hurt

long time ago. 



All is the same 

time has gone by- 

some day you came 

some day you'll die.


Some one has died

long time ago- 

some one who tried 

but didn't know.

Cesare Pavese

this is the first and last poem written in english by Cesare Pavese, one of the most important italian writer.
when i say last i mean last forever : this is the last one he wrote, few months later he committed suicide, leaving in his room only a post -it “sorry for the mess”.
i love very much this poem because I think it show perfectly how can hurt a fake love, just a flirt, for one, but everything for the other one!

I don't know why but sometimes it seems that aren't we that fall in love with a poem, but it's the way the poem arrive to us that make us love it.
It is what happened between this poem and me, it arrived me in the best moment, when I needed for it.

W.R.I.T.I.N.G.

What
Really
I love and
Think
I just
Need to
Graph

A.N.D.R.E.A.

Always
Near
Despite
Really
Extremly far
Away

haiku

Cold winter snow falls.
Frozen water waits. A horse
runs away.So paceful

E.N.D.L.E.S.S.

End?
None.
Deep
Loves are
Endless.
Since we'll be
Smiling

one world poem.

Will remain forever in our hearts.
Childhood.

The cat in an empty apartment


Die—you can't do that to a cat.
Since what can a cat do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls?
Rub up against the furniture?
Nothing seems different here,
but nothing is the same.
Nothing has been moved,
but there's more space.
And at nighttime no lamps are lit.

Footsteps on the staircase,
but they're new ones.
The hand that puts fish on the saucer
has changed, too.

Something doesn't start
at its usual time.
Something doesn't happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared.

Every closet has been examined.
Every shelf has been explored.
Excavations under the carpet turned up nothing.
A commandment was even broken,
papers scattered everywhere.
What remains to be done.
Just sleep and wait.

Just wait till he turns up,
just let him show his face.
Will he ever get a lesson
on what not to do to a cat.
Sidle toward him
as if unwilling
and ever so slow
on visibly offended paws,
and no leaps or squeals at least to start.

-- Wislawa Szymborska

I really love cats, so this poem talk directly to my heart.
Also I think is a very good interpretation of our sometimes childlike pride, that most of us will never lose despite the age.

Work Camp.

I remember the first, and last time I saw a picture of you.

I remember the room, and the soft light.

I remember i told my father:

"Oh my God, I'm shocked"

looking at the picture.

"she seems to have an empty soul,

what have they done her?"

He did not answered.

I remember i stood to stand near

your eyes just for a while, i was scared.

Horrified.

I remember you were a Jew, sat on the Birkenau railroad, waiting for the oven.

You seemed to be just a body, your soul had flown

away a long time before.

I remember all these things because i can't forget

how i felt standing near your picture,

knowing that millions of you are blowing in the wind.

I remember all these things because I'm

still wondering:

"WHY?"

ITHACA

As you set out for Ithaca

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon - don't be afraid of them:

you' ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon - you won't encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbours you're seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind -

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you're destined for.

But don't hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you're old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you've gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Kostantine Kavafis

this is one of my favorite poems. This  is the one I have dedicate to my exchange experience, and however to all my life.

I think that everyone who knows something about Omero and his old poems will love how Kavavis have used his work adapting it to our lives.