Pier Giorgio Di Cicco is by far my favourite poet, here's one of his best pieces of work:
The Exile
It is the place I return to.
Lying awake nights I imagine
the wind just back from the cypress trees
brushing me lightly as I
step from the house;
in the garden the leaves are speaking of
roads that empty into stillness.
July; each star wants us to see through it
& find the universe.
I will walk up the road behind the house
& think of a young boy running in & out
through the doors of darkness, calling his
friends by name; his friends call back, leaping
into the tall grass to meet him.
I return to the house. From a window, a woman
shouts for the boy to come in.
I feel sorry for her
like the fool that I am,
like the man I will never be.
Dylan Thomas is my second favourite poet, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night was my personal favourite poem for a good part of my adolescence.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be ***,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
|