ARNO’S FIRE

ARNO’S FIRE

Dante_and_beatrice

. ..

The swollen Arno overflows, only the wicked river knows

A trail of umber sediment, borrowed nuggets of rose-gold

Beneath the merchants tables, its soft, princely belly gored

The flower of the Medici on laden, merchant-vessels moored

A tale told, a crucible of fire, bonfire of vanities, lust and desire 

Firenze sleeps, artisans, courtesans both, purple, plush & bored

A cradle for a renaissance and Arno’s sacred arthouse store

. ..

sto3

 

writtenbyedenbray10.03.2015

 

GLOSSARY – savonarolA – Piero and the exile of the Medici: 1492-1494 – bonfire of vanities tuscany

Read more:http://www.historyworld.net/wrldhis/PlainTextHistories.asp?historyid=aa69#ixzz3TzqJ9YuP

#NOTE – I have never been what you might call a rhyming poet or written what you might call poems of form or open to exegetic or critical poetic analysis (No negative judgement on poems like these intended or implied). I have always tried to write in a more open, Kerouac-style of prose for want of a better explanation. Perhaps like the Beat-style poets of the 60’s/70’s, where feeling and emotion are more important than form.

I have suffered the occasional criticism for this and in a somewhat futile attempt to silence the inner demons who taunt, I entered a poetry society and whilst there, I entered this poem in a competition. It brought me some rave reviews from a few notable American poets who commented that it was ‘the real thing’ and also some criticisms – such is life but I actually like it because it seems to me, to meet the criteria of the competition and describe the history of one of the world’s ‘great’ art cities – Florence.

What do you think? 

~ edenbray22.10.2017  

 

 

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GLASGEE

glasgee

102818-glasgow-under-blanket-of-snow

finally we come to the city of Glasgow,

served by the fresh waters of the Trossachs,

nestled at the base of the verdant west

and the wild plains of the east,

It is the driving wheel

of those two hubs of commerce

that prompt the nation

from the central seam of the nations belly,

a joint cerebral stimuli,

sitting north of the industrial heartland

leaning heavily on the soft underbelly

and beauty of the lowlands

. ..

WRITTENBYEDENBRAY06.03.2015

BORROWED FROM ‘A SASSANACH’S GUIDE TO SCOTTUSH FITBA, WUMEN N’WHUSKEY – LINK >>>

THE BAIRD, THE BARD and the BOARD

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FEEL

GetOutOfJail

. ..

feel

 

. ..

When you can’t see you long to look

through wooden blinds, an open book

When you can’t hear you yearn to listen

waiting for falling snow to glisten

When you can’t speak you want to shout

tell Monsignor the hellhound’s out

When you can’t touch you need to feel

decide yourself whether love is real

. ..

writtenbyedenbray03.03.2015

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EDINBVRGH ~ YOU ARE A ROCK TO ME …

 

ξdinbvrgh

you are a rock to me

…   …   …

 …  I will return to remind thee, you are still as my elder sister …

. ..

Ρretty thee and charming, your smile disarming

ξÐÎΝβνΓςΗ, handsome as a gypsy’s Queen and

greener than a summer salad set with radishes

and drizzled with italian oil.

You slake my thirst, feed my emptied, hungry soul 

and take my calloused hands in yourn so sweetly.

I have sworn to stand by your ancient turrets

to always give a good, stern report ~ fly the ensign

 buried deep upon your sunnied granite face and

set hard again those chill ΓÛššÎΔΝ winds

that strike September so keenly

or bite the night when swifts still fly.

I am loving thee my royal princess

in tattered shawl your breast just showing.

Your breath fresh as apple cider

your smile birthed in trial you have worn as lovers clothes,

taken his saturday joys, his monday flowers

now so tired and bruised.

Keep my stained memoirs, faded diaries,

grained pencil sketches,

they are not all I have of you,

I kiss your swollen lips

embrace your embroidered hips,

nuzzle the warmth of your velvet bosom

ξdinbvrgh you are as a rock to me aNd I will return

to remind thee you are still as my elder sister,

the staunchest ally, a warrior friend

… then we will sit and talk halfway through the night

as lovers always should do …

.. .

                                                                                                      edenbraytoday

28.09.11

                                                                                                  edited04.07.13

.. .

Jessica Phirri comments on 01/10/2011

love the song. love the poem. as always, you wow me with the visuals.

” your breath fresh as apple cider

your smile birthed in trial that you have worn as lovers clothes,

taken his saturday joys, his monday flowers now so tired and bruised.”

like watching a battered woman make her bed and lie in it and still want to comfort her…… I don’t know. this poem is hitting me at a rough time. america is like an old dog laying on her side breathing rather slow and heavy. so to read this, makes me wish I had real roots.

. ..

On this day 04th July, 2013  –  I dedicate this poem to Jessica Phirri my most trusted critic, literary advisor and a friend

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