Writing Poetry


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  • Bronze Star - 5,720 Points Fabrizio Frosini (1/26/2015 7:50:00 AM) Post reply
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    QUESTION: HOW DOES POETRY COME TO YOU..?

    I'd answer.. I don't know.. :)

    I can only tell you about how it happened that a.. 'piece of poetry'.. came to me..
    It was a cool, clear October night, in Hungary. Year 1983: more than 32 years ago…

    - - '’WATER MUSIC, I.' ___ [in Italian: 'Musiche sull'Acqua'.1] (*)
    - - http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/water-music-i-musiche-sull-acqua-1/


    - (*) after Georg Friedrich Händel's ‘WATER MUSIC'.

    It is the first in a collection of 10 lyrics. I wrote them in Pécs, Hungary, a long time ago (Autumn 1983) .

    ***

    It was a cool, clear October night, in Hungary. Year 1983: more than 32 years ago…

    BACKGROUND STORY:
    I was in Hungary on an invitation and grant from The Hungarian Academy of Science. According to the fellowship, I had to spend 6 months in Budapest, at the National Institute of Neurosurgery, working on a research under one of the best neurosurgeons in all East Europe (the late prof. Pasztor, then head of the Institute) .
    But destiny's will was different: the communist bureaucratic direction of the Academy, in Budapest, decided that I had to spend the first 3 months in Pécs (south-west of Hungary) and only the last 3 in Budapest.. Pure madness, of course.. but so things were.

    Yet, when in Pécs (a pretty town, by the way) , just on my first few days there, it happened to me to meet a beautiful, bright, lovely young girl..
    I wrote the 10 poems of my ‘'Water Music' there (the last one, the 10th of that collection, although I started it in Pécs, was finished in Italy) , for/on her and on my absurd situation.. as I was far from home, from my work, in a foreign country.
    I went there supposing to work on a research.. but I found myself facing a paradox.. stuck in the middle of nowhere.. because at the Neurosurgical Dpt in Pécs I couldn't work on anything.. and my days there were simply void of meaning..

    I usually spent every morning at the hospital (Mon-Sat,07.00-14.00) , then a light lunch at a restaurant (the hospital cafeteria was so bad that, after the second experience there, my stomach refused to eat their food) . After lunch, I used to spend my time walking in the town centre or reading; then having an high tea at 5 PM at a beautiful café house..
    I still have vividly, before my eyes, the images of that 'café', where a wonderful tiled oven dating back to the 18th century made a show of itself in a romantic corner of the main room..
    And that was where I met Csìlla.. She was 17 that time: a student and a ‘ballerina' - she wanted to become a ballet dancer..
    She loved music, too.. Händel's 'Water Music' was sort of ‘our music'..
    Now you can begin to understand.. can't you?

    - It was a night (almost Dawn) , when I wrote this poem.
    I was in my room, staring at the clear sky through the window.. The moon, so pale and magic.. drawing my imagination to 'Her'.. In my ears Händel's music was still playing softly..
    We had known each other for c.1 week. That evening she had invited me to a rehearsal for a ballet they would have performed on the next Saturday..

    - The quotation [‘gazing at the stars'] refers both to the night's heavenly vault and to the girl's name: ‘Csilla' relies to Hungarian ‘csillag', meaning ‘star'.

    - Then, here you have: 1. A night sky.. with stars and the pale orb of the moon..; 2. A ‘Csìlla/csillag' girl with her ballerina' legs.. like a fairy..

    - 'Legs so pure' want to express the sense of beauty, whiteness (from her complexion, but also a reference to her ballerina suit) and also purity (her young age; her innocence, moral integrity..) .
    Someone could think: 'legs that make you dream'.. but in my poem, such a sexual attribute goes together with an intellectual and (sort of) ethical judgment..
    For all the reasons above I have made it with 'legs so pure'.

    - 'Your eyes -Ethereal / Like butterfly wings'
    Her eyes, when she looked at me, and

    - ‘'ETHEREAL' (eyes) because: - 1. they were light blue eyes..; - 2. and, somehow, they had sort of a 'spiritual' feature.. By such a word I wanted to recall to memory a character made 'divine' by Dante's genius.. I refer to Dante's Beatrice..

    - ‘'Like butterfly wings' relates to the delicate, translucent, diaphanous features of the butterfly wings, applied to her eyes looking at me; but it wants to recall to mind also the movements of her body, when dancing.. Where ‘wings' are both her legs and arms..

    - 'SUSPENDED ON YOUR HEART': beside her I did feel myself like being in a suspended state.. without any distress, in peace with myself.. sort of being suspended in zero gravity.. out & above the day-by-day life.. Sort of escaping the deadly cycle of the existence..

    - ‘Pulse of life' is referred to Her People and Culture (Hungarian) .. as I was in a foreign country, and through Csìlla I had the chance to understand a different Culture.. to get to her heart and, through her, to the heart of her Country.. (‘THY PEOPLE' = Csìlla's Country/People) .

    - But that chance was not fulfilled... - as the 'background story' shows, when I've described my ‘absurd situation' [I found myself facing a paradox..] -..and despite Csilla's presence, I found myself so estranged.. in a state of dejection [reference to Jean Paul Sartre's 'Being and Nothingness', more than to Heidegger's philosophy].

    Yet, such a feeling of strangeness (of extraneousness) never leaves me.. even in Italy.. even among my people..

    - '-Stranger / Always) / As among My.' = MY PEOPLE.. ‘feeling like a foreigner even at home'...

    Fabrizio Frosini


    *************************************************
    'Water Music', I. - from the collection:
    'Water Music' 10 poems by Fabrizio Frosini
    *************************************************

  • Rookie - 91 Points Leylek D. Sovura (1/18/2015 12:55:00 PM) Post reply

    Poetry: What i think is essential:

    I am writing since i was small and there are three big things you absolutley need to pay attention to:

    1. The theme
    2. the words
    3. the sound

    If you read a poem of yours, try reading it out loud. It has to be comfortable to the ears. A nice ring to it, if you want.
    Coherence of the words and a good structure, combined with a well fleshed out underlying theme(s) are a necessity.

    What can be variable though is the length. Sometimes shorter is better.
    Too many words can be very irritating and can even put off possible readers.
    But then again, it's all about the story, the life lesson that you want to tell.

    Also not every poem has to be a masterpiece.

    We write poems, because we want to write down our feelings, our experiences and our nightmares,
    so we can share them, but at the same time try to understand them.

    BUt at the end of the day, the most important thing is to enjoy them ourselves.

  • Rookie - 56 Points Tom Navarro (1/17/2015 1:41:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi Guys! How's it goin'?What's the best theme do you think one should write about in the upcoming love month February?Erotic or Romantic?Feel to reply!

  • Freshman - 1,798 Points Nishi Kumari (1/15/2015 11:49:00 PM) Post reply

    poetry is like best partner who never leaves you alone....at times of happiness, sadness, excitement, experience...whether sharing your dreams or nightmares...it will always be their in the form of whom you can share the secret chamber of your heart..

  • Gold Star - 24,328 Points Gajanan Mishra (1/13/2015 8:33:00 PM) Post reply

    Let all persons here on this earth know again to love all, let us remember each one is god here. Let us see truth everywhere, it is there We are just to discover.Let us tolerate all, there is peace here. Let us try to establish a model society with all out development of human entity. Let us proceed ahead with our own mother and mother-tongue as because here only there is our breath and respiration.

  • Rookie - 441 Points Karan Pratap Singh (1/12/2015 11:46:00 AM) Post reply

    Hey, please go through my poems and make me aware of my flaws. To improve it in the near future.

  • Rookie - 44 Points randy squire (1/12/2015 12:05:00 AM) Post reply

    O sad soul. Tell me why are you so blue?
    Tell me what it takes to uncorrupt you?
    Why do you cry when you feel all alone?
    Is there still cracks, in that big wall of stone?
    Tell me sad soul, why are you so down?
    What would it take to regain your old crown?
    Where would your shoes take me if I walked just a mile,
    and what would it take to see that sweet smile?
    Oh desperate soul, tell me what are your fears?
    What has tormented you thru all of these years?
    Why do you run when your simply afraid?
    What makes you so scared of the bed that you made?
    What is the price to see your enternal bliss?
    How do get back something, that you constantly miss?
    Randy squire

  • Rookie - 441 Points Karan Pratap Singh (1/10/2015 3:43:00 PM) Post reply

    Please read and comment on my poem and let me know how good am I at it. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-beauty-undescribed/

  • Rookie - 147 Points Ritienne Abela (1/10/2015 10:38:00 AM) Post reply

    Creation of a Starfish

    When a soul dreams upon a sleepless star,
    it unfolds through the sea's twinkling of its eye.

    On the night upon the star's last plight,
    its frail old soul morphs into Starfish -
    Amidst sand, shells and violet light.

  • Rookie - 644 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (1/9/2015 11:27:00 AM) Post reply

    Read and comment on my poem on http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sympathy-34/

    Sympathy


    The poor lad in cast-offs scent'd the wafting aroma
    Of the flamboyant pastries so lusciously succulent
    Near to the scrumptious fruit tarts he went
    Drooling at the dainty food with deep desire

    Pulling out the vacant, penniless pockets
    Hoped the boy to find some money to buy
    The noshes so toothsome, he teared his eye
    'It can't be helped' said he with a doleful sigh

    Felt he a mellow, sympathetic pat on the back
    A misty-eyed, benevolent woman was behind
    'You yen for the delicious bakery snacks, I know
    For I can understand your tears and your woe'

    Wiping the boy's tears with a satin napkin
    She bought him the tasteful food he coveted
    The boy's eyes glistened with great glee
    'Thank you ma'am' in a feeble voice said he

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