World Poetry Day
World Poetry Day
21 March 2012 12:00AM
There is a day for everything now isn’t there and I didn’t even now there was a World Poetry Day until I stumbled upon it by accident. Believed to have its origin in the 1930s, World Poetry Day is now celebrated in hundreds of countries around the world. So let us think about how we should approach a poem. I have never been into poetry myself until a visit to the Bologna Book Fair at exactly this time last year, when I found myself sitting in the sunshine writing one.
Now for the test! You might think that it’s rubbish, and that’s fine by me if you do, because I never professed to be a poet, however it does sum up – in rhyme – the ambience of my Bologna experience that day. So, taking the following points into consideration please read my poem and message me via the website if you like it. Why not first skim quickly through the poem and write down your comments. What words and images stand out for you? What is your emotional reaction to the poem? Did you learn anything? Then re-read it, this time more slowly and carefully, taking note of any figurative language. What are the messages in the poem, sometimes subtle and hidden, or quite clearly obvious. What do you imagine is the most perfect way to read it and remember poetry is meant to be read out loud. Of course no-one reads it like the writer who knows exactly where the emphasis on words should be!
Actually, my poem paints a lovely memorable picture of that day in Bologna for me. It reminds me of the ‘Song of Solomon,’, if you ever read the Bible –which quite frankly I find is a fascinating book with a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. I digress… this was not planned by the way, but was purely coincidental as the similarities of the woman who searches for her lover in the crowd and my poem are clearly to be seen. Eventually she did of course find him. Oh how we all love a happy ending.
So have a happy day
Luv & Stuff
Anna
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Bologna. Oh Bologna!
Bologna. Oh Bologna! This city so diverse and full of love.
My heart assures me, that somewhere, my lover is hidden among the crowds.
The odours from the cooking, and the taste of the excellent red wine.
Delightful to my senses, and as I feel the gentle breeze, I brush away the kiss curl from my eye.
My lungs breathe in the atmosphere.
My heart soaks up the Italian passion.
For this city so full of exuberance, will forever stay in my mind.
…….
The oldest university in Europe, I’m told.
The students so care free.
The many bicycles they pass me by.
A force to be reckoned with, by each taxi.
Meandering across the road. Oh heavens above! The tram I nearly did not see.
Oh where is my lover? I walk. I glance. I wonder. Where can he be?
Why don’t I see him? Why doesn’t he come to me?
For sure he’s there, hidden amongst the crowds.
……….
The buildings are authentic, medieval and so divine.
A photo please Sir? I ask the passer by.
A memory to keep, to be mine.
A cappuccino is the next thing, at my preferred café bar.
The waiter is rather handsome. Italiano. Need I say more!
Is there anyone to compare?
Then the open top turi-bus, slowly passes by.
And a man on the higher deck gives me an uncomfortable stare.
Do you think that perhaps, it is my long blonde hair.
…………….
I soak up the ambience, in this oh so elegant square.
Peace and tranquillity transcend upon me.
A man sits beside me.
The type of which, I most certainly will not embrace.
And then a whistle in the distance could be my saving grace
As a TV crew they catch his eye.
With interest he watches their escapades.
…………….
Mama Mia. Mama Mia. Is my lover, my rescuer out there somewhere?
Oh. What a happy day!
…………….
Then a pigeon on my table lands, most welcome to the crumbs.
But the cheek of it, the olives and the canapés he also tries to take.
I turn and sigh and look around.
Thank goodness, the man I didn’t like beside me, has evidently gone.
In his place a little dog with his mistress standing by.
A pink coat he wears. I laugh out loud. Oops!
The punters turn to find out why.
For sure the little fella must be warm, I very politely say.
But secretly I think he looks ridiculous anyway.
…………………………….
An artist sets up his easel, and begins to sketch.
The pan-pipes make pleasant music, the officer looks on feeling very suspect.
Do they need a licence or do they do it anyway?
Then, a wheel chair and a carer, followed by fifty school children, slowly passes by.
I know, for I counted see, to satisfy my curiosity.
The teachers looking anxious, two heads they had obviously mis-placed.
Agh! To the water fountain, they had raced.
For sure they’ll be in trouble.
To the frightened teacher, their behaviour is really quite a disgrace.
…………………………….
I too decide to head that way for a sip of fresh water is my desire.
But blast the mis-direction, the water goes in my eye.
I stumble over the tourist with his camera and tripod. Blinking pest.
A tissue to wipe away the smudged mascara
I smile. For as I raise my head.
I see him coming towards me
I know he will love me even with black eyes.
Striding through the crowds.
Yellow roses in his hand
There he is. My lover.
Mama Mia. My rescuer at his best!
…………
Now I live a country girl in a palace.
A rose of Sharon by my side.
You found me oh my lover. You found me in the crowd
You found me in Bologna on that oh so special day.
I’ll never let you leave me. For sure that’s one thing I will pray.
Anna McKann
March 2011 at the Bologna Book Fair.
