The breeze came down from the topmost spire and wrapped its arms around her, sweeping her along and up the stairs. There on the topmost step, with the great bronze angel looming up on high, she stood and looked at the figures carved in white marble. And then she wasn’t sure whether they came downContinue reading “Story of the Copper Haired Girl Part II”
Tag Archives: poem
Story for a Copper Haired Little Girl
Part I: In the middle of the ocean in the middle of the sea in the middle of the plain a great rock rises up. Cliffs, smooth walls, there’s only one way in. One road you have to find as you wend your way along amidst the boulders and the cracks. Up high there’s aContinue reading “Story for a Copper Haired Little Girl “
August’s Heat: Part II
Even though the weather report says otherwise, the heat doesn’t show signs of abating. An early morning walk is still quite tolerable, perhaps to pick up a few groceries, go to the pharmacy or the bank. Otherwise, I stay home, where I realize it is time to get my next post in. In a senseContinue reading “August’s Heat: Part II”
August’s Heat
Because it’s August and because it’s hot Inspiration doesn’t seem to like the heat. Or maybe that I’ve been writing my blog since 2019. And sometimes I feel I don’t have anything new to say. Yes, it’s hot. But it was also hot when I was a child. Probably not quite as hot but thenContinue reading “August’s Heat”
A Bouquet of Summer
Someone left a bouquet of field flowers by my door. Flowers picked along a country lane. Years ago, my granddaughter picked a fistful of English daisies that insisted on growing on the lawn. They were not weeds for me, and for a day they smiled at me from the glass where I had put them.Continue reading “A Bouquet of Summer”
A Poet
One who seeks an answer to the eternal why of life. One who loves words and the sound of words, the meaning and the structure, the way in which they inter-relate, attempting with words to build something finite where nothing can be added and nothing can be subtracted. But what then are words? They areContinue reading “A Poet”
Final
A photo. One of many in my computer files. Past, present and future. Like all photos but some more than others. Two people, friends, in front of a house. The house is gone but while the friends have aged, they and their scarfs are still around. It’s Christmas. There’s a wreath on the door. TheContinue reading “Final”
Second Thoughts on Starting Anew
Once upon a time, say 20 years ago. When did it all begin? –and I don’t mean the eclipse. I mean when your life turns from being only what you plan and starts to include a dependence on what others think you should or shouldn’t do. Yesterday it was you who was boss, now graduallyContinue reading “Second Thoughts on Starting Anew”
Arches
Once upon a time there were small towns where the buildings, the people, communicated with each other. But this is after all Italy where even now one lives surrounded by the past. Stairs used to be outside – now they are almost all inside. Houses still touch each other as they march along the street,Continue reading “Arches”
Doors — Who Knows
You never know what lies behind a door. That’s the point. A door may conceal what was never meant to be seen. The odds and ends, the remnants, of some magnum opus. The mundane residue of what once was grand. An open door may suddenly reveal three levels of brick arches, piggyback one on theContinue reading “Doors — Who Knows”
The Last Rose
It was the last rose. The deep red blossom had not opened all the way or perhaps had no intention of opening. Still I found it beautiful. That was weeks ago. Even now the rose sits there in its vase. The petals brown and withered. Yet even so I find it beautiful. Not simply theContinue reading “The Last Rose”
Yellow
Shades of yellow Hues of yellow Lemon amber chrome gold Burnt umber, bronze A yellow butterfly Escaping from the ghetto A patch of yellow wall in Vermeers View of Delft Proust Van Gogh Rembrandt The Jewish Bride Slashes of yellow satin sleeves The little prince Daffodils and sunflowers A host of golden daffodils Your hairContinue reading “Yellow”
Coffee
It’s a hot hot summer day. You find that even thinking takes it out of you. And then you see a stand selling granita di caffe. Coffee, frozen and crushed to a mush and with a cap of whipped cream on top. Does that count as coffee? I suppose it does for it brings youContinue reading “Coffee”
Erika Bizzarri 