Some say ... Bryan Di Rocco Some say that poetry is dead, but I'm confident because his body has not yet been found Poetry is born to never die and who claims otherwise is a crazy.
The first occasion on which man has demonstrated his flair for the lyric goes back to the drawings on cave walls. Through the representation of animals and stylized moments of life, the man responds to that need is communication, initially impossible due to the lack of a true vocal language. Therefore, in the absence of it was developed a method of closely related to the low transmission equipment available and what kind of life that could have a man of the time. The weather was marked by hunting and all simple activities that support the livelihood.
Poetry, therefore, has started the history of man. It marks the beginning of the search for self-dell'esorcizzazione the enemy, the feeling of sharing that special feeling is extended on a universal level. Poetry is nothing but a question that should follow a search. The goal is not the answer, but the journey itself.
Not everyone is suited to undertake this research, because sooner or later the questions that pose the cavemen are intended to evolve, to touch the most dangerous borders. This is where the poem takes their separate ways, each exploiting their skills in different fields of art. There is a breakdown (in painting, sculpture, architecture, music, writing) but it always leads to a single poetic production (understood as an artistic work). This is not a work of the Creator, but belongs to anyone who can perceive the essence. One who perceives the essence is the same person capable of asking questions. However, it does not have the tools that artists have to express his search, then turns his interest to the works of others. The poetry, then, becomes the substance of the people.
reached this step, the poem has become property of the world. The world demand, research, exchanges and deepened. Human experience and the revival of these men who do not know, support the growth of poetry. This may be a book that inspired a generation of young people, who sings a song that inner beauty that not everyone has the courage to express a framework that stimulates interest and tears, because with its chaos of colors can be the chaos that consumes from within.
Today, the poetry, that is the sum of all the different artistic adventures, is Call all'ingrato task of survival to those men who pretend to be dead or who continue to dress in elegant clothes to get away from future artists.
Poetry is not a haughty creature that comes close only to the most fortunate. Certainly requires special treatment, demands the knowledge and willingness to explore, but never refuses when asked to enter the house. Before sitting down to check that there is no dust on the furniture, the floor is clean and the air smells. Then have fun making this place a messed up environment. The dirty, filling it with objects and open all windows so the air currents to mess around every corner. The poem is proposed and once charmed the man brought up his profile, is anxious to unleash with questions and thoughts.
The poem is presented in various ways. There is, as already mentioned, who tells her how it was a moment of boredom and study, while others teach to love it. It happens suddenly and in the most incredible. The first moment you do not know who wrote those lines, the next moment is a world that is revealed before our eyes.
is curious to find out how true lovers of poetry are the very young. The old waste time to weaken it, pretending to kill her with a consumption of it quick and painless, trying to leave the one who will fully benefit from the same, perfectly detached and cold over a period of research. Young people, for their part, the act of generosity for excellence are to present it to friends and family, talk about how fun and funny friend, whose ironic can also illuminate the road when the ' last lamp is turned off.
Unfortunately these young people are bombarded with ideas that the old smell of mothballs, but they have a weapon available. While some peers waste time to follow the advice of the poem wants to die, they use the media to talk not only from friends and relatives, but also to those people who live halfway around the world. It is a continuous proliferation of blogs and sites run by boys who want to tell anyone of the poem and explain how she managed to become independent and free to seek answers to their questions. The meeting also takes place by means of petitions, in which everyone can choose to give their signature to convince a publisher to publish the translation of a book at home, or get a letter with a weepy singer to make a stop in a city nearby. The meeting
that poetry offers do not bring an end to research, but to ensure that it comes across the research of others. Two will be stronger in the face of difficulties and three you begin to feel better. When you are four, five or three thousand, the intersection of the roads with those of others is a guarantee for fun.
suffer and rejoice with different voices, but if I may express a personal opinion, the questions are always the same. In evolution, yes, but fundamentally driven by the usual research that young people in particular need. The methods of mass communication have made sure that the poem became a commodity to be consumed quickly, but also provided an opportunity to spread it. At the time of the serials families if they were sitting around the one able to read, enraptured by his stories, now we meet in or chat via webcam, but the principle of exchange is the same.
The only difficulty is not to be duped by laziness and fear of questions. I freely, I chose to love those questions and I refused to join the chorus of the old owls who are preparing for the funeral of poetry. I went to call her a book, looking at a picture and listening to a song.
