Oscans, Ligures and the Apuli as known
Ancient Greek, Samnitics, Sicanis and Celt
Indigenous tribes, one people with love grown
Capodanno Fiorentino o'er lands dwelt
Wine appellation of Sangiovese as shown
Wreaths and lanterns over folklores shine not welt
Carrara marbles as buttress of stronghold
With arts and culture, graced with norms of the bold
Unblemished in a seamlessly soft,
Carrara marble, all young and proud,
Standing in the moment of pure delight,
With nobody else around,
Your soft kitten paw covered in cloth,
Both puppies forever unclothed,
Your figure is perfect in every which way,
Your truth is fully exposed,
The truth of your thoughts of intimately free,
Thoughts in your secretive dance,
Thoughts of the seductive play in your mind,
Of a musically youthful romance,
My beautiful Venus standing with flowers,
You’re my flower with a beautiful voice,
Singing the song of beauty and love,
Forever singing without making a noise.
My profound admiration for Michelangelo goes
beyond the Renaissance genius that he was;
humanness on humble faces out of norm,
seeking their Creator with a human form!
I envision him on his back painting nudity
on the high ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as hot sweat
dripped from his forehead...did he anticipate any threat
in exposing the beauty of the human sexuality?
Out of Carrara white marble, he carved those life-like sculptures:
David with his muscular was one of his best creation! Amid
war and bloodshed, his spirit shone while his hand chiseled and painted;
wealthy popes and kings hired him to embellish their palaces and churches!
What driving force made him accomplish such masterpieces
so timeless and beautiful? Was his faith, passion or events that inspired
him? I'm astonished by them and lose myself in them as many have for ages...
taking a journey to an era when literature and art flourished!
.
The Roundel
From the top of the staircase
the sun shines through
an oval stained-glass window,
spreading slow, blush-rose
over footworn, blue-veined Carrara.
Set high in the wall a white star
against a blood-red sea
and through the red panes,
and rippling as though dipped
in blood itself,
a glimpse of church tower
shimmering with the sound
of drowning bells:
Malta in a roundel.
Margaret Clerici
from "Glass: Glimpses of Malta"
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