poetry
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Luke Whitington: an Australian poet with an Italian heart
Luke Whitington lives in Sydney, but twenty years of his life were spent in Italy. Those years have left an indelible longing in his life which has been expressed in his extraordinary poetry which returns again and again to his experience of Italy. As a young man he chose a path less travelled: leaving a career in the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade to undertake language studies at the University of Perugia in Umbria. His adventure continued to unfold as he became a successful entrepreneur. Working with Italian partners he restored heritage buildings in the countryside of Umbria. His journey was to take him to Ireland (where he began…
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We will decide who comes here …
We will decide who comes here, Who crosses our golden shore. We will decide who comes here … we said And from our fair southland, Our words went forth, And in a far aged white continent, Our words were heard. Our words weren’t done yet. After long years, The echoes return, Return from faraway. We will decide who comes here … From “Mare Nostrum” the echo returns. Our waves – Our sea. We in possessive. Did you know, That we can paint Lines above the waves And build from them a wall? And are the children still flung overboard? Red meat for that loyal hound which still Waits, waits for…
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Isabella’s Castle Prison and Her Poetic Escape
Isabella di Morra looked out from a height. Below, in a deep chasm, flowed a river. Her river, the Sinni. Isabella turned her eyes to the sea, searching the horizon for a ship. It was the ship that would carry her free from her prison, her own family’s castle. D'un alto monte, onde si scorge il mare,miro sovente io, tua figlia Isabella,s'alcun legno spalmato in quello appare,che di te, padre, e mi doni novella, ...From a high mountain, where sea is seen,Often I gaze, Isabella, your daughter,For the gleam of any glistening beam,Which of you, father, brings news across water ...Ch’io non veggo nel mar remo né vela (così deserto…
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Laura Terracina: For Who is Enemy to Woman
“How dare you raise hand, against so young and beautiful a vision?” With such words does Laura Terracina (1519 – 1577) defend her sex. Born in Naples, she was the most published poet of Italy’s sixteenth century and a feminist before the word “femminista” existed. She was part of a movement of italian Renaissance women writers whose existence is often overlooked in the historical record. So much were women absent from tellings of the Renaissance and so mixed their lived experience, that it caused Joan Kelly to famously ask “Did women have a Renaissance?” While the answer is complex, the Renaissance saw for the first time in Europe, substantial publication…
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Who Am I to Speak to You of Italy?
Who am I to speak to you of Italy? Who, for more than 50 years have lived in silence, far beyond her shores. Yet, such words do not belong to me alone. “Italian Americans are invisible people.” Fred Gardaphé writes, “Not because people refuse to see them, but because, for the most part, they refuse to be seen.” Even here, across an ocean, truth resonates in his words. And as he knows, being forgotten has a price. A price paid with the coins of self-forgetting. “I am Italian.” “I am Australian,”, here statements irredeemably, eternally both true and false. Words which mock reason and defy solution. Yet in their mischievous…
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Dante’s New Love Life: the Vita Nuova
The love poets of Dante’s day told everyone they were in love: but always kept the name of their beloved secret. Dante however, names Beatrice as his love. In telling us of her, he has made her immortal. Gemma di Manetto Donati, Dante’s actual wife, he never once mentions and she is virtually unknown. Before we jump to conclusions about what this might mean let us learn more about Dante’s love life. Vita Nuova Dante’s Vita Nuova (“New Life”), which is Dante’s best known work as an early poet, is all about “love”. Dante recounts for us a love story and he is the lover and Beatrice the beloved. Some…
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Maria Famà – “I will not check the box for white on any form”
Maria Famà’s poem “I Am Not White” lives in the folded places between two worlds. Through her Italian-American eyes we see her lived experience of America’s hyper-racialised culture. The central dynamic of the poem is a box on a form. A box which, in truth, demands a lie. For her stories do not belong. The convenience which in America goes with the claim is too uncomfortable. The price is too high for Maria Famà. “I will not check the box for white on any form.” Her reflections go further for her words reminds us that the Mediterranean, where Sicily (and Italy) is found, is not only a European sea. Its…
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Martha Root — An Astonishing Life
Today I am at a Baha’i meeting, and I want to say thank you for the blessing of having such times in my life. To each and every soul who helps to make so many of those gatherings a veritable corner of paradise — thank you. This morning we are reflecting on the life of Martha Root, a woman whose life was inspired and transformed by Bahá’u’lláh. We will be reading about her life as introduced on the website bahaiteachings.org. I hope you can join us in spirit and read along. In one of his earlier works, the Hidden Words, Bahá’u’lláh observes that “words are the property of all alike” and that “guidance hath ever been given…
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Peace Bell
In Cowra, the Peace Bell tolls a warning, And magpies caw their raucous and wry chorus in reply. Their voices reach a quiet graveyard, An unusual place, Here Japanese mothers and children sleep. So far from home – they are not forgotten. ANZACS sleep nearby -almost – almost – beside them. They too attract the living – not forgotten. How strange, the earth’s embrace draws them so close. The Peace Bell tolls a warning. Keep them out the shrill galah shrieks And fearful faces turn to listen, hatred rising in their eyes. Across the plain a musty folk museum lies, Its most sacred relic, a roll-up flag. Turn them out the galah…
