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In the act of writing March 2011


Eiffel tower wheels ©copyright2013owpp

Eiffel tower wheels
©copyright2013owpp

This essay was one of my assignments and was written in a tongue-in-cheek manner,
I do not take myself that seriously 🙂 It was about describing oneself in the act
of writing, which I called just that…

In the act of writing
—————–

I usually prepare an assignment long in advance.
Plotting, collecting information, mincing, digesting the style that is about to be born.
Yet, today, I come as ludicrously bare as can be.
I stare at a white immaculate sheet of paper and ponder at the outrageous idea of writing, as a working exercise, as opposed to a burst of fervid passion.
Or, to the growth of my imagination spilling forth in an overflow.
I am surrounded by dictionaries and thesauruses of all kind that, I trust, will unravel the mysteries of words and impel me to the creation of a literary magnificence.
Gilded rays of a timid autumn sun pierce through the remote glass window door, of the balcony, maintaining this room in perpetual darkness, keeping its occupants in sempiternal slumber throughout the seasons of the years.
Nevertheless, I find my mind juggling with phraseology, feeling like a choreographer bearing the conception of a chef-d’oeuvre.
I amalgate ideas, terms, observations and philosophies, in anticipation of a new era…
The creation of my magnum opus.
Hours slide by, in the stimulating atmosphere of reflection and contemplation and I see, merging from the profundity and intricacies of my brain, the outlines of what seems the sketches of an essay.
The gratification of my labor.
I hold dearly unto my chain of thoughts hushing anyone daring any resemblance of vicinity.
I toil away, inching my way through the haze and vasty of language, aware of a day coming to its end, as the sun retrieves its warmth, preparing itself to enlighten another part of the planet’s obscurities.
I close the chapter at its culmination, satisfied by the denouement, at peace by its genesis and in synchronization with the heartbeats of the universe.
I look around and become aware, au fait of stepping out of a different dimension.

All is still.

Everyone having left me to my occupations and busy with theirs, outdoors.
I am surprised to observe the constant rebirth of my soul at the completion of what I fantasize, is

the emergence of my prodigy 🙂

Burano 2013 ( French Poem with English translation )


©copyright2013owpp

©copyright2013owpp

Carlo Memo ©copyright2013owpp

Carlo Memo
©copyright2013owpp

This poem is the result of having the privilege to meet this amazing talent and renowned
Painter Carlo Memo while visiting his small village in Burano.

Burano
——–

Burano
Small village
Miniature
Of laces
And fishermen
Of bright sun
And vibrant colors

You locked away
Your best
Hidden secret
Your painter
Your genius
His talent
——-

Our visit
This new acquaintance
This world
Barely scratched
The flash of a passion
For art
In its pure and raw state

Burano, village
Miniature
Of giant talent
Your secret
Is hidden
No more

_________

Burano
——

Burano
Petit village
Miniature
De dentelles
Et pêcheurs
De soleil vif
Et couleurs éclatantes

Tu enfermes
Ton meilleur
Secret caché
Ton peintre
Ton génie
Son talent
——

Notre visite
Cette nouvelle connaissance
Ce monde
A peine effleuré
L’éclair d’une passion
Pour l’art
A l’état pur et brut

Burano, village
Miniature
Au talent gigantesque
Ton secret
N’est plus
Caché

Venice 2013 ( French poem with English translation ) Inauguration of year 2013!


©copyright2013owpp

©copyright2013owpp

©copyright2013owpp

©copyright2013owpp

This poem was created soon after the count down hence the ” opening of… ” title
and is a result of a few summer days in a world full of dream and fantasy.
We had an amazing apartment-guide service from someone called Massimo Levis,
His references are,
massimolevis@gmail.com

Happy, healthy and serene new year!

Venice
———

Venice the beautiful
You sell dream by the load

The world envies you
Their imitation such pale
Reproduction!

The language that sings
“ Permesso “ in a quivering note

The Tabacchi, the stamps,
The postcards, sent hastily
To share, those seconds

Counted, this marvel.
This town so beautiful

That sells dream,
By the load

___________

Venise
——–

Venise la belle
Tu vends du rêve à la pelle

Le monde te jalouse
Leurs imitations si pâle
Reproduction !

La langue qui chante
« Permesso « en note frémissante

Les Tabacchi , les timbres,
Les cartes postales, envoyé à la hâte
Pour partager, ces secondes

Compté, cette merveille.
Cette ville si belle

Qui vend du rêve,
A la pelle