In the story "One afternoon in London with Eliot and Montale" inspired by the meeting Moravia writes: "What distinguishes the poet from other mortals is the demon of poetry, at times creative, stands beside him. How to write to say that in two verses are: the poet and his demon. It is therefore for this reason that, in normal life, the poet who runs all alone, without his demon, can seem a little piercing eye a man like everyone else. "According to her, in daily life, the poet is a man like all the others?
Just like everyone else. But it would be appropriate to make a distinction between poet and poet as between human beings and human beings. In our world there are billions of human beings, with very different levels of awareness. I speak of the poet who is aware of their spirituality and expresses it in an ordinary way but vital and intense. Then there are poets who play with words and get lost in their feelings without having control, but the poetry remains the sole source for all.
In the poem "The devil behind the door," writes a devastating impact / impregnates earth-womb / melting the frost gradually. / ... The poetry is born from a devastating impact, Whose son is he in your opinion?
I think is a child of our deep level of awareness that often not even perceive. I believe in the cosmos there is a harmonic vibrational wave from which we have all been adopted, sensitive people, the capture and convert it into words, taking the constant vibration intact, in a sense make music.
was November 1971 when, walking home from school, after reading some verses that Dante Alighieri had dedicated to his Beatrice, tried to emulate him: he was living at the end of his first story of platonic love! (From his preface) ...
Yes, it was my first approach to the world feeling, the music of Dante's verse, I did discover the innate musicality and from there out of love I wrote the first verse, they were astonished and even more watching friends and relatives who were even older than me. But the feeling did not last long, my search for meaning in life and my thoughts since then have converged to an existentialism fought and intense. What better medium for the need to entrench the verses?
She writes a jet or resumed after a few breaks?
cast. Typically, the logic is completely excluded, of course I have an inkling in me of what I mean, and the need to express my leads to the right words that slip from my mind seems empty until the fingers pressing the keys on the computer.
how you felt when her poems were published?
Very well, I saw my self-esteem often fluctuating, rapidly fermented. But generally they are not prey to emotional changes in this direction. When the public feel that my work is over and I'm ready for more. A collection is like a child once an adult is on its way and should be let go.
Symbolically, enter through a door, it means new opportunities. In his poem "The door is closed": is not scary, he writes at one point, the demon that lurks on the other side with me and squeezes the handle. Outside the closed door there may be anti-social tendencies, you can exclude ...
This point is very thin and can easily be misunderstood, there is a time when the door must remain closed and I mean the time when the training of our psyche has to rediscover his rhythm and his essence, then once the door open you are ready to build the social and the other path to follow, there is the lonely, if anything, a hiding, we are all interconnected whether we like it or not. When the time of closed door must be open ended forever. In this context, I refer to poetry, the gate is the border between my personality built with the constraints from birth and the profound spiritual nature that is the demon, something that is scary because it is the authentic self that makes us realize that the habits and desires and dreams not to mention the attachments of this world are nothing. At the bottom of this side of the door you feel a demon, in fact we are there as we really are.
In "Euthanasia", states: "It 's time of euthanasia hidden / but as precise sharp blades. / Surprised no surprises in their sleep / and never the same way / open the window in the morning /. Anticipates a time?
Yes, the invitation to enter the time of life, killing habits, beliefs, way of perceiving things and avoid the recurrence of events, but invented from moment to moment. Life is just this, we move easily to the memories and dreams always suspended between past and future running away from this. But life is now not before and not after. Everyone has to find its way sweet and painless it is capable of killing that is not life.
one time, he writes, the words made sense / hour flow like rivers to the seas confused / low land now supports them / do you ... what happened to the words?
The items are no longer what we are, are just sounds that we use for convenience and to extricate us from everyday problems, all words are often pleasant, reasonable, but then everything falls in the facts. I always believe that poetry is an example of how human beings should speak, expressing only the summary and the time needed.
you recognize yourself in this time?
admit to playing with words in everyday life, but did not play because I feel I am in my time, do not recognize myself in a world where you believe what you see and hear and not what you feel deeply. Empathy, dowry at the bottom showed me the poem, leads me to immerse myself in the next and so eventually I lost in the maze of words and play, but when I write it's just me and I leave everything behind.
Palazzolo (Brescia) that your relationship with his city and his land?
good, although I kind of feel good everywhere, for the same argument made in the previous answer "empathy" after a few days every place becomes my place. Palazzolo is obviously the place where I was more than ever in my life and where I live still, I love the river, and every single meter of stone and asphalt this little town of Brescia, I love the destiny that led me to create a home for poets just thirty yards from where I was born, and special people that I attend. But then back to the authentic, does not actually belong to no land, I feel I belong to everything in heaven and on earth that lives and breathes or stand still to enrich the set of his presence.
Fulvio Fapanni was born in Palazzolo (Brescia) in September 1957 and written poetry since 1971. In 1982 he founded the Group literary Meteora. In 1985 he wrote the poem "Neither man nor puppet" version of "Pinocchio" in esoteric, then used to work theater (Company "The Bunch", directed by Gian Bianchetti). In 1999 he published "glow in the shadows Songs in the light". In 2006 he participated in the first issue's editorial "Animus et Anima" with the collection "Erihanna the final redemption." A amateur has made the film "Lucid Dream" in 1999 and is now under construction the second film, "Messengers". From 1982 to 1985 was devoted to ceramic sculpture, preferring ancestral figures of imaginary worlds. After twenty-five years is still returned to sculpture to create new forms and imaginary worlds .
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