Archives for posts with tag: Venice

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VENETIAN WONDER
by Massimo Soranzio

Standing here by the Canal,
Dull and greyish, more than grand,
I am waiting for winter
To come on the vaporìn,
But I know well it won’t come,
Nor will it come tomorrow,
To purge this long summer’s sins.

I am waiting for Venice
To be the new Atlantis,
As for the Tower of Pisa
To give in, at last, and fall.

I am waiting to see who
Will win the race to submerge
The glorious stones of Venice:
This ever changing climate,
Or corrupt men and their greed?
I am waiting to see if
Venice can resist once more.

But in the meantime, my dear,
I am waiting for you here,
Waiting for you to appear:
Let’s meet at Santa Lucia.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Coming from a family that, through centuries of alternate fortunes and even modifications in its name, has retained a certain pride in its ancient Venetian origins, I have always followed Venice’s glorious decline, caused by nature following its course, as well as by an inadequate class of politicians, with a certain interest and apprehension. “Vaporìn” is what Venetians call the steamboats serving as city buses. Santa Lucia is both the name of Venice’s railway station, and the day of St. Lucy, December 12, popularly (though not astronomically) known as the shortest day of the year, and “the beginning of the end” of winter, a season that seems to be quite late this year in this part of the world.

IMAGE: “Nocturne in Blue and Silver, The Lagoon, Venice” by James McNeill Whistler (1879).

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Massimo Soranzio writes on the northern Adriatic coast of Italy, about 20 miles from Trieste. He teaches English as a foreign language and English literature in a high school, and has been a journalist, a translator, and a freelance lecturer on Modernist literature and literary translation. He posts some of his found and constraint-based poetry on his blog, massimosoranzio.tumblr.com.

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VENETIAN BLINDS
by Fred Zirm

Slats of shadow, slots of sunlight –
angling between the nearly
invisible and the almost opaque.
What do they have to do
with Venice?
Were they invented there
to cut down on the glare
from the Grand Canal?
Or were they hung in the back
of gondolas so romantic couples
could open them to see the sights
or close them for a moment
of private passion while
the gondolier improvises
an aria to impress
the tourists?
 
I could probably Google the answer,
but speculation can be so much more
fun than knowledge, like seeing vague
silhouettes behind the blinds
beneath a Venetian moon. 

Credit: Poetry 181, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Photo: “Moon Over Venice,” found here.