Notte Bianca

Notte Bianca

A Poem by Tania

Dear Notte bianca, 

Ten months ago 
here I settled. 
The same way as I am today 
as I was yesterday 
as I will be tomorrow 
aside me lay books 
and blank pages 
awaiting to be read 
awaiting to be used. 

Notte bianca 
my white night . 
A white summery night. 
The smell of my presence in this room 
seems to never escape . 
Always here I will stay 
too many memories that can't be erased.

Page by page 
Song by song 
Image by image 
stand still.

I hear the music 
song by song 
but it sounds differently. 
I have my books 
page by page 
but they mean differently. 
I see my pictures
image by image  
but they have paused 
in their intimate moment.
Differently.

Seems like time has drifted me apart.
I feel  as my body has elaborated its age 
and embarked to its journey without notice. 

I acknowledge my depart 
as it slowly arrives 
,unexpectedly,
visiting my thoughts 
exclaiming the end
of my breathing soul. 


Is my return my end? 
As I have seen 
the way one leaves  
and I have felt
the travel of my strange existence 
into a  dream .
Estranged 
Alienated .

Notte bianca , 
so beautiful 
and pale. 
Black and white. 
You are the truth 
and my lie. 
My white epiphany 
into a dark pause.

Notte Bianca, 
my night is my reminder 
that the end 
has a soul 
in its arms 
like the night sky 
and its stars. 
Thus , 
I will always remain alive.
Somewhere. 
Somehow.
In your thoughts? 
In my room ? 
In my travels? 


I fear a life 
without a notte bianca 
no night without light 
no night without thoughts 
no night without memories 
no night without return.

Here is to a world with many realities 
two 
in  which I live in 
the Notte and the Bianca. 

to you, 

my white night.





 

















© 2017 Tania



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Reviews

First, how many people, chosen at random do you think will know what a white night is, or even know that's what the words mean? Never having been that far north I only knew because I saw Smiles of a Summer Night (actually Sondheim’s version, A Little Night Music). And I wasn’t aware of the usage to describe a sleepless night till I looked it up.

• Ten months ago
here I settled.
The same way as I am today
as I was yesterday
as I will be tomorrow

Given that, why should I read on? You’ve just told me there is no story, just a single note held endlessly. Not what you intended, but it is what you said. And in reality, as I progressed through it, it’s pretty much what you repeated.

As a minor point, if you’re going to punctuate then do it. The last two lines either need periods or commas.

• The smell of my presence in this room
seems to never escape .

Perhaps were you to bathe? I know you have intent for how this line is to be taken, but only you know that because intent doesn’t make it past the keyboard. The reader takes meaning as their background and experience suggests, not as you intend.

In the first stanza you said that life is boring. With the next you drove your point home. With the next you hammered it to the dirt. With the next you smashed it to powder. With the next… ;-)

One of the things I love about poetry is that it says so much with so little, and does it beautifully.

You have a point to make. So do it in a way that makes the reader wish they could do it as well. Then step back and take your bow.

Posted 5 Months Ago


we are changing all the time keeping in step with time maybe its growth maybe we have to change. an interesting piece to ponder on.

Posted 5 Months Ago



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2 Reviews
Added on June 2, 2017
Last Updated on June 3, 2017

Author

Tania
Tania

Menton, Beirut, France



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Hello, Writing is a beautiful enigmatic human creation that I can deeply connect with. I am truly enchanted by the beauty that lies within the simplicity of expression and in its distinctive way .. more..

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