sonnenbrücke & other fragments (poetry)

Road on the seashore, 1895
Giovanni Fattori


Version for mobile reading:
602 - (sonnenbrücke)

He beckoned the sheep with his
sweetest hand. He climbed the oak,
restored the nest
of a solemn little thing. 

His pulse had the umbra of a mountain.
His wounds produced in him no pain. 
At dawn he hauled the body of his father,
his world spun in the axis of his heart.

He blamed the grass for the coming of the frost. 
His tears were beetles in a drowned world.
The hours were lost. The hours were lost.
The hours were frost in his grassy world.

Slowly, all of his skin was a blind skin. 
He dressed himself like a mossy boulder.
The sheep environed him, his sweetness.
The birds were disfigured, his sulk. 

579 - ()

Ōdī et amō, I grabble the chains. Yesterday
slipped from me, I gnaw. I belong. I hug
the expressions of other. Other too 
am I. My nephew is afraid
of the moon. I too, am other,
and constitute a moonlike thing
and gleam and disappear
in the supreme violence
of my sameness. I will hug you
forever, tiny being, so that you too
can disappear. 

606 - () 

To you, Empedocles, woe was being orphaned
by birth. The warm plumage of nature rejected
the birthed one. Nature affiliated the inert things.

The spacial sounds of veins, oh, the black
     air and black spume of a black sea. Day,
 a hungry apparatus and a tree with
  many mouths. Seaside, a magnificent symphony
wets the bodies of flowers. I listen, I listen,
how am I the orphan, Empedocles?

Its bones gong and daylight shivers, the children
will never know the frailty of their makers, and
each footstep storms in a giant collapse. The sand
ripens like a corpse. I watch, I watch,
how are we the orphaned ones, Empedocles? 

Why do we seek a night
that doesn’t seek us? 


Published by João-Maria

A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

12 thoughts on “sonnenbrücke & other fragments (poetry)

    1. I’m yet to read Tolkien. I didn’t even know he had published poetry, but I suppose that he was heavily influenced by the romantics, which is what that poem attempts to be. It was written after Hölderlin, in fact.
      Thank you so much for coming by, Oloriel. You are always inspiring to me.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Here is just one example, as a part of his books ofcourse; to me, it carries that sense of old, but also sense of timeless:
        “All that is gold does not glitter,
        Not all those who wander are lost;
        The old that is strong does not wither,
        Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
        From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
        A light from the shadows shall spring;
        Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
        The crownless again shall be king.”

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I don’t think I write half as good as that, but I appreciate the comparison nonetheless. Furthermore, I also don’t think the content of my poems is quite as exalted or ambitious as that. Empedocles saw the violence of nature as something wholly divine and thus non-human, but if you look at humanity, Oloriel, is it violence that we lack? Is it divinity? I think we have much too much of both…

        Liked by 1 person

      3. You are right, we do not lack it and have too much of it – but I think that stems from our wrongful quest in achieving both. I do not think, as humanity, discounting for the humble and enlightened individual here and there, we do not have a truthful inkling most often what divinity is or even what is violence (to explain better, I can but use my own examples where the person violent towards me would say they are doing it “because they love me”). That is why, I think, I perhaps see some divinity or some vulnerability , in a fleeting moment, in words such as yours – while in fact perhaps, they were not there. I think that is the true power of the written word, today, to see what we miss or want to see, inside the writing.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. I’m fascinated by your writing…it’s honest and plain-spoken, yet there’s such beauty in it. My own pieces that are honest about pain do not come out as artistically as yours. Bravo! And I’ll keep working on improving mine 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much!
      I’m actually rather surprised because nobody ever said my writing was plain-spoken. I’m so glad it feels that way to you.
      And I do think there’s art in so many different types of expression. I do not think you are less artistic at all, but I’m sure that, as we develop as writers, we become better acquainted with our ability to be just honest enough without losing the beauty of our honesty.

      Liked by 1 person

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