Workshop Six

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Colour metaphor poem

Red is a St. Valentine’s Day card
bursting with kisses, hugs and
sweet nothings.
Red is anger
exploding inside your head
spreading out and overwhelming your existence.
Red is the cracking of logs in a sparkling fireplace
in a cabin in the mountains.
Red is the cloak of Little Red Riding Hood
pacing up and down the wood
as if she were an out-of-control dart.
Red is a teacher’s pen
crawling over piles of tests waiting to be checked
yelling and twirling at each red mark left on them.
Red is the blood
gushing out of unhealed wounds
howling at the unquenchable pain of existence.

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Being Young, Being Old

I’m old enough to fart in public without feeling embarrassed.
I’m young enough to sing while taking a shower, sing while cycling to school, hum while cooking, dance while doing the chores.
I’m too young to think about death or worry about choosing my burial place.
I’m too old to drink milk from a bottle or suck a pacifier, thought I wish I could still do both of them.
When I am forty I will throw an unforgettable party.
When I am fifty I will go on holiday more often.
When I am sixty I will retire and spend six months in Canada and six in Italy.
When I am not here anylonger I will be dancing with a semi-god in Heaven.

smallwomen5My Memory Poem

We used to laugh and have fun togehter
but now we live in two different worlds. I’m here among living beings, you are there among only God knows whom.
We used to make crostoli together and sfuff our faces with them
but now we do not have the chence to be physically together.
You used to cook a special rice soup for me whenever I was feeling blue
but now you are far away cooking for somebody I don’t know. 
I’m just left with the memories of your laugher, of your voice, of your smudged lipstick, of your backcombed hair, of your sparkling intelligence, of your biting irony, of your crafty hands, capable of making beautiful fancy dresses.  Once you turned me into a fairy.
Once you turned my into a gypsy.
Once you turned me into an icecream.
Once you turned me into an Indian.
Carnival was longed for, now it is not anylonger.

If love was…

If love was a pair of ice-skates
I would move soflty on frozen lakes.
If love was a sailing boat
I would be crossing the oceans.
If love was a pari of sneakersthing-called-love
I would be fit 24 hours a day.
If love was an Emily Dickinson’s poem
I would never stop reading it.
If love was a bright red Ferrari
I would be fined for speeding every day.
If love was a fridge I would stack it up with sparkling wine.
If love was a book of blank pages
I would fill them in with words of ever tender sweetness.
If love was free merchandise
people would not appreciate it.
If love had no barriers
it would bless our day.

Childhood memories

I remember the sound of your chuckles when bursting out laughing.
I remember the fragrance of daisies dotting the lawn where I crawled in search of LIFE.
I remember the wagging tail of my dong, fanning my face, caressing my cheecks, tickling my nose and making me sneeze.
I remember the tingy taste of frozen ice-cream on my parching tongue.
I remember my spinning top, twirling colours, dashing images, making my head spin along.
I remember feeling part of the cosmos when I ran in open fields.
I remember I felt sad when I was away from my pets.
I remember that I was very sad when my donkey Linda ate a piece of wire hidden in the hay and had to be put to sleep to stop her pain.

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3 risposte a Workshop Six

  1. anonimo scrive:

    BEING YOUNG, BEING OLD

    I am old enough to make my own decision
    I’m young enough to make a fool of myself
    I am too young to live on my own
    I am too old to be irresponsable and act like a baby
    When I am 40 I will be a successfull woman
    When I am 50 I will make a big party
    When I am 60 I will retire and live in a mansion near the beach
    When I’m not here any longer I will be a wonderful angel protecting my love ones.

    A CHILDHOOD MEMORY

    I remember the smell of the airport:
    I’ve been the so many times but that day it was different.
    I remember the sound of the airplane’s engine:that meant we were ready to take off.
    I remember when i saw the clouds: they were white and huge…they seemed cotton candy.
    I remember my then best friend,,, she was so nervous, instead i was really excited.
    I remember the first  night I spent in Dublin: they took us to eat Pizza…it was disgusting.
    I remember feeling independent…there were no parents around.
    I remember I was only 11 when I experienced all these things.
    I remember that i cried so muchon our way back home…

    MY MEMORY POEM

    We used to play together everyday
    but now we can’t anymore: damn school and homeworks!
    We used to think and talk about how we have grown up
    but now here we are thinking about how our childhood was
    You used to be my silly friend
    but now You are my silly Best friend…

    We used to be so close
    but now we nearly ignore each other in class
    We used to be twins
    but now I always think: "Whay are you like this? I don’t understand you anymore"
    We used to share our lives with each other
    but now we live it our own way
    We used to tell each other "we will be best friends forever"
    but know i don’t know if, at the end of the day, i will be there for you
    You used to be funny and you were everything to me
    but now you are bitchy and I’m sorry for you! I’m sorry I can’t stand you any longer!!!
    You used to say friends always come first because love, sooner or later, will end
    but now you have him and he always comes first
    I used to know you
    but now i don’t know who you are
    …You are one of the best friends i have ever had…
    …Please be yourself again…
    …I just want you back…
    …I love you twin… 

    Giovanna

  2. anonimo scrive:

    I am old enough to go to stay up late parties.
    I’m young enough to be irresponsible
    I am to young to go to x factor
    i am too old to watch Tom and jerry cartoons
    When i am 40 I will get married
    Whae I am 50 i will write a book abuot my life
    When I am 60 i will play with my grandchildren
    When I am not here any longer i will travel the world as a ghost

    Veronica

  3. anonimo scrive:

    Childhood memories

    I remember a sweet perfume,
    the bells ringing,
    a park full of flowers,
    a taste of chocolate,
    my beloved…

    I remember a heart, whose pulse was the rythm of love…

    I remember of waiting for an answer,
    then I jumped for the happiness…

    I remember that I loved and was loved…

    I remember you, the most important person in my life.

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