Tag Archives: prose

Homeless by Choice

Gaunt, with a straggly flowing grey beard and hair, he sits huddled in the doorway of the bank at the crossing of two of the main streets in town. Or you may find him on the short street that leads to the market where he is more sheltered from the wind. Wrapped in a blanket,Continue reading “Homeless by Choice”

Encounters

Fleeting encounters I remember, but do they? One never knows what life will hold in store. Throughout the years we cross paths with people of all kinds, for all kinds of reasons. Perhaps I was more likely to have a variety of encounters since I had a shop on the cathedral square, since the localContinue reading “Encounters”

Romanesque Memories

It must have been in the seventies. A friend of ours, one of several Marios around, was teaching a course on Romanesque art in Florence, for which a tour of France, Sardinia and Tuscany  had been organized. First a word about Mario Bucci, a professor we all loved, perhaps because of, or in spite of, hisContinue reading “Romanesque Memories”

Roads not Taken, Lives not Lived

One wonders sometimes what life would have been like had we taken a different road. One can’t help but thinking of Robert Frost and the road not taken. If only … I could have … Why didn’t I? Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone is what one is because of a life that perhapsContinue reading “Roads not Taken, Lives not Lived”

Books once more

By its very nature, the printed word is an incommensurable subject.  Books are a never-ending delight. Well, maybe not all of them. There are certainly some you may wish you’d never encountered, books that haunt you when you would rather sleep. Yet sometimes it is the other way around. Those nagging thoughts of what you didContinue reading “Books once more”

Books I’ll Read Again. 

As a new friend, met as usual at Blue Bar, which is becoming a sort of expat Casablanca, you’ve asked me for suggestions as to what to read. I don’t really know where to start as I now sit here at my computer, having finished lunch and waiting for my “dogwalker” (I can still readContinue reading “Books I’ll Read Again. “

Windows

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. The sun streams in through a window in the wall that overlooks the square. Plants on the windowsill cast shadows on the floor, shifting shadows that change shape as two becomes four.  White curtains hang quietly on either side without a breeze to stir them, kept at bay byContinue reading “Windows”

Looking

Who is looking at whom I suppose that’s a good question. John Berger writes about seeing, and touch as one of our initial contacts with the world around us. We touch, we see, and eventually we will use words in out attempts at communication.  We see, we look at something, historically for various reasons.  But we areContinue reading “Looking”

Friends

Our loving faithful unquestioning friends. You’ve had a dog. You’ve had a cat. Or maybe several. You’ve loved them all and they’ve loved you, each according to his nature. Dogs will welcome you upon your return from town, probably wondering why you hadn’t taken them along. Jumping up and down and wagging their tails, theyContinue reading “Friends”

Montale

Until you try it yourself, you have no idea what’s involved in translating – perhaps the most challenging is poetry. Of course, you have to know both languages but then you realize what’s involved. Meter, rhyme, and all those other things such as enjambment, whether you’re writing a poem from scratch or translating someone else’s.Continue reading “Montale”

A New Poem 2024, An Old Poem 2004

Once the dark of night was dark, a black sky with stars and perhaps a moon. Now, what nature had intended as a time of rest, has been usurped by man-made lights. Those outside my window betray the never-ceasing activity of man. As I lie there on my bed, attempting to shut out the light,Continue reading “A New Poem 2024, An Old Poem 2004”

Story For a Girl with Copper-Colored Hair

Alternative version thinking of Luca Signorelli’s frescoes in the Cathedral. 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 whiteContinue reading “Story For a Girl with Copper-Colored Hair”

Story of the Copper Haired Girl Part II

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”

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”