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Palma's write-up on Poetry.
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WHAT IS POETRY
by Luciana De Palma
I write poems since I was fifteen
years old, although a few time ago I have found again some verses written
when I was eleven years old. It seems to me to have written poems for
a long time and in all this time I’ve never asked myself what the poetry is:
it’s been a natural and spontaneous thing, like to breath. But from when
I’ve had some poetry meetings with school students or when I’ve organized
some public poetry readings or when I’ve received some prizes for them, the
question that often I’ve heard addressed from people to me is: what’s poetry
for you? I have to confess that every time I’ve felt in difficulty: how to
explain the natural impulse of the writing, the continuous flux of thoughts
and images, the feverish flame of the soul that all the nights and in every
moment of the day burn always intense?
So, what is the poetry?
It is like a priest that trust in God and has to give the reason.
Or it is like asking to flower why its petals are yellow or red.
I hate to give definitions, these are the worse way to explore the infinite
universe inside the human beings and I, that write poems, love the synthesis
only after having fathomed a layer to make a solid level to fathom deeper. I
live every moment “the poetry”: when I wake up in the morning, when I speak,
when I dream, when I see the world. Poetry is a way to live and even if some
greater Italian poets have said that the poetry is the most useless thing,
they have continued to write and to be poets.
What is very clear is that today “to live” the poetry is difficult: it seems
to the world that a poet lives on the clouds, far from the “real life”.
But how it needs to be in silence, to look over every border, to feel that
deep and one truth, that truth inside of the human nature.
Who writes poems know how every line is born after many suffering moments:
to go down the soul, even where the dark is darker, to come up taking a
weight too much, to choose the right word and to say what has been found “as
honestly as it can”, like a good friend of mine has written.
Poetry is honesty, is suffering, is a war that the poet fights inside and
the world often doesn’t know nothing about.
When I organized a poetry meeting in my town, a boy, before unknown, told me
that I was “brave” to read my poems in public because, he said, “the poetry
is tiresome”: but I assure that when I finished to read he was still there,
he listened every poem I read.
The poetry makes indicate the poet as “a different”: and sure there is a
The difference is in all the reality that a poet sees, not wanting to hide
the face under the earth.
The poetry is a window and every time we see trough it we see a different
landscape, but each of these landscapes are a little part of the great truth
and reading poems means just this: see and make larger the own soul.
THE POETRY AND THE DAYS
by Luciana De Palma
Everybody who tried sometime to put down few verses to compose a poem, in that
moment has certainly felt the sensation of estrangement of themselves from the
world and of the world from themselves, to return then to the world and go on
with usual and necessary businesses.
But what has changed “after” those verses?
What happened going by the white paper to those ink traces on the same paper?
As between two banks, still on a cambered bridge, the poet has been hanging in
the middle: that day has been divided in two parts, before and after the poem,
the day of creation, the day the poet has given birth to him/herself again.
One comes back to life each time a poetry is read or written, one fords the
river and for a long time the damp remains still stuck to the pegs.
“That” day becomes “the” day of our creation, our passage, our discover.
It’s like to have been pushed in the uterus of life and then to be surfaced
again to the light, to the world; it’s like to have seen through some lines the
whole universe in our mind and then to have left that silent, muffled place,
taking back with us something we cannot explain.
Can poetry change a life? Maybe not, but the days, which a life is made of, are
the privileged place where poetry plunges its roots, the days are the sky where
poetry makes its foliage spreads, the days are as the branches on which poetry
makes new buds open.
Someway poems we learnt at school time resist in our soul, someway suggestions
and images return, someway ancient words make old desires rear up.
Poetry shakes, empties and fill up, poetry lifts up and throw on the ground and
sure the soul doesn’t remain immune.
The true poetry has the “human being” inside: it contains men, women, their
days, their life.
The poetry kneads itself to the days as the wind to the sand of the desert and
in those long silences the dunes move, the horizons change, the landscapes
If in our daily life happens to meet poetry (a rustle among the leaves, a leaf
falling to our feet, a perfume reminding something passed, a fortuitous and
predicting love meeting), let’s allow to ourselves a divine act, let’s allow to
make eternal that instant bridling it in sublime verses, in deep words: poetry
makes we take possession again of those archetypical suggestions that are ours
from time immemorial, that belong to us, that our soul keeps as incautious
winds, as whipping gales, blowing and hissing: … life!
Luciana De Palma
Rama Krishna Perugu
21 August 2007
Poetry is the language of nature,reality,truth,and
Poetry is impassioned ex-pression,which is in the countence of all science...
Poetry is nothing but he thought and words in which emotion spontaniously
Poetry is the most vital and lasting achievement of man...
Poetry is not ideas ,it is made with thing s and words that signify things...
Poetry is special use of languag ,but the value of any use of languagies to say
it is medium of communication,between two humanbeings...
Poetry is the fine particle with us which expands rarifies,
raises, our whole being without it mans like as poor as beasts man is poetical
A poem should not mean but be....
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Fri, 24 Feb 2006
For me, poetry is not arrangement of words in stanzas. Rather , poem is person's
alter ego. Its incarnation of inner feelings, emotions and a deep
commitment to the world outside. poetry enlivens the inner spirit , provides and
opportunity to share the inner sense of beauty, happiness and
I write poems in Marathi, Hindi and English. Thereby, I live in three cultures.
then my joy is three fold. i don't let others and myself to build narrow
domestic walls around me. A poem is like a mother which nourishes us during our
constructive days and enable us to become a mother too.
Thu, 9 Feb 2006
I am Sony Dalia, from India.Here are my views on poetry:
Poetry is a divine a way of communication. It surmounts barriers, defies
linguistic explanations, demolishes destructive demonic dictatorships. Poetry is
a pleasant way of greeting and interacting with people - known and unknown.
There is poetry in a glance, a smile, a syllable and a blossom. The rainbow
delights and radiates nuances of poetic expression. So does a poet, without
anticipating any thing in return.
Rhyme , no doubt, makes a poem eminently readable. Rhythm lends grace to the
movement of the narration. But, these are not of paramount significance.
Attitude plays a vital role in composing and appreciating a poem. we can say
that a poem is highly personal at one level and equally universal at another
level. If more than one person relates a poem to his/her own experiences , the
poet can be crowned with success.
Poetry is not dated. It remains eternally relevant , reverential and
referential. Ability to relate and reflect enable the audience enjoy poetry
exquisitely. Poetry has no set situations nor constraints to convey a poet's
view point. Universe nay, muleteers its domain. Desire to communicate poet's)
and a wish to exchange ideas reader's) render the art of composing a poem
challenging, exciting, exhilarating. I am deliberately employing the term'
composing' here. Fusion of divergent elements and creativity result in a
melodious song/tune. In poetry too.! Cheers !
Date :2 Oct 2005
Though Ms De Palma tells us that she's been writing poetry since she was either
11 or 15 years old, she doesn't tell us how long that's been. Poetic license?
On a more serious note, though, her remarks are, perhaps, a bit elliptical.
Could that be because she says she hates definitions? In that case, it might
have been more useful to those of us who think more abstractly if she had
included a couple of sample poems -- or portions of them -- by way of examples
of her characterizations. Concreteness, clear and fetching and novel imagery,
aurally appealing language: aren't these the conditions of poetic craft?
Anyway, I think I recognize a successful poem when I am able to hear,
conceptualize and feel its meaning (almost) simultaneously. Ms De Palma's
descriptions of what poetry is may fall short of her own talent, in this
accounting; but we cannot know unless we are given her poetry to enjoy.
Thank you for the chance to respond.
Manoj Thakur (India)
Date: Mon, 30 May 2005
What’s poetry? - What qualifies few simple, plain words to be a poem? Is it the
common thread that binds them together? Or it’s the duality of the words to
describe one thing and try to prove something else at the same time?
Is poetry a way to reach the place, to touch the emotion, to churn the thought,
to describe the situation, to serve the social concern that is impossible
otherwise? Or it’s the way of presenting the omnipresent things in a different
Is it the medium of sharing the impression that an individual called poet have,
in his ever enduring quest for unknown? Or it’s the art of imposing your own
individual way of thinking on others, using subtle words?
Is it food for thought for the masses? Or it’s the wine to be relish only by its
What poetry really is?