this cool march morning
mid week on a stone mountain top
high up and off the beaten route to anywhere
with one way in, and one way out
pass under the arch
to enter the town
then on three sides
it’s a straight drop down
pretty as it could be and so very old
we drove there for another look
at the bohemian artsy haven of Calcata
prices there are high to live and buy
and there are few stores,
what you find for sale are
hand-made craft items for tourists,
locals seeking necessities must drive a ways
the village we saw was the real one,
out of season, worn grey, cold stone dead,
lonely, cool and needing
then this and every weekend
the curious will come
some other day, another season
even we may return
with the reason of showing friends
what ancient, remote, quaint
and wonderful can look like
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
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3 comments:
I like the way you start the poem, the first two stanzas. The sound and rhythm are great, and your word choice is unexpected.
I love all of your poems, but certain ones just jump out and shake me by the shoulders.
These lines are excellent:
"the village we saw was the real one,
out of season, worn grey, cold stone dead,
lonely, cool and needing"
The real village is rarely the one the tourists see. How well you portray that. I love the words "cool and needing." Your ending is also very powerful.
Thank you Annie and thank you, Julie.
In twenty years we have been to a hundred isolated stone villages in Italy. Although discovery often sounds the death knell for such a lovely spot, Calcata has preserved it's ancient oddity and refreshing singularity. It's the type of place the movie industry like to recreate.
Calcata deserves a poem. It is a reflection of the strength of impact I felt that the words about the village came out as a tribute.
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