LA TERZA EDIZIONE 2004
I risultati
Partecipanti: 327 (un solo elaborato per ogni partecipante).
Composizione della Giuria: Giuseppe Vetromile, presidente ed organizzatore del concorso; Ciro Carfora, poeta; Enzo Rega, poeta e critico letterario; Gerardo Santella, critico letterario; Ilaria Padulano, assessore alla cultura del Comune di Sant’Anastasia.
Sez. A – tema libero
1° premio: Armando Saveriano, Avellino. 2° premio: Giovanni Caso, Mercato S. Severino. 3° premio: Daniela Raimondi, Londra.
Menzioni di merito a: Gino Rago, Gerardo Pepe, Fabio Franzin, Benito Galilea, Carmen De Mola, Antonio Spagnuolo, Giovanni Vesta, Fabio Pelosi, Domenico Luiso, Umberto Vicaretti.
Segnalati i poeti: Giovanni Bottaro, Loriana Capecchi, Nino Falato, Franco Fiorini, Minos Gori, Giancarlo Interlandi, Gianni Rescigno, Adriana Scarpa, Antonietta Tafuri, Nino Vicidomini.
Sez. B – Il Vesuvio e il Monte Somma nella storia e nel folklore
1° premio: Salvatore Cangiani. 2° premio: Adolfo Silveto.
Segnalati i poeti: Vincenzo Cerasuolo, Massenzio Caravita, Carolina Martire Tomei.
Premio
Special Jury Prize awarded to students of the third C and D third, and their teacher Carol La Gatta of the Comprehensive De Rosa Elementary School of St. Anastasia, for the construction of the book "Reading Magic", a tasty and skillful work of artistic creativity and education in poetry.
The awards ceremony was held on November 4, 2004 at the Biblioteca Comunale of St. Anastasia, located in Piazza Madonna Arch. The winning poems
Dar-al-Harb
(car bomb)
How hedonism in death
doubtful blood do not dare to hope
Yet the faith of the idea ferments crystal
Rain in Etrat yesterday yesterday yesterday breaking
Fantastic fantasy of Monet and the soil of Paris is seen as an à la Galerie Vivienne
then the woman selling flowers tie the scarf
: Ramallah instead is an old chewing a signal
contrition a grain of heat breath of wind to sour on the firing of Al Ayyam
ember of words and ash
Sons of rubble (boys uvapassita) will contend the same kefya
(ports): the mouths are the agony of nonsense mounted
(entries): the voices of wasp wings buzz cross
Before tomorrow I'll know I'll not call me "shahid"
:
break this pod too sweet and a welcome sex (code-named Amira) swollen temporal
already writhing bodies of the 72 voluptuous virgins
you push her breasts shining Jarar oil spill my throat waiting for you whispering
certainly some prayer (also a gift) some certain
explodes as a body?
A language of pigments that will be so out of my skull smashes
yes and here is the squid ink: joins him at other times these moments
bindweed will cancel all of the memories all
found a grain of salt Jarar told me / I some would say and smile in through the eye (you Jarar think the people at the project)
: Erik Satie and listen to The 'West has you intoxicated It' s time is now
(A sense of shame there I Jarar revenant from Sabra, from Chatila17settembre1982
to betray my people, comrades to linger at the Grand Café fugitive Colbert)
God is not the word peace is not peace and salvation
here: here you press the foot down: here points to the next target: the debauched youth table at Ben Yehuda?
(It rolls up in the morning spagine irrepressible inconsolable)
Found
Sottopelle jerky burns rice rumpled crazy and dumb
a grain of salt
: Tighten the steering wheel and smile inside "Shahid"
: steer now through with the eye
not beget children (these deaths)
Three hundred names will bite one candle
Close your eyes is treason?
Armando Xavier, Avellino
1st prize section. A
Motivation of the Jury:
Daring still entertain trade with the experimentation, the author seems to arise at the confluence of the experience of the last things, for what concerns the twist of writing and multilingualism, and the group "Workshop ", as regards the commitment of the content. Thus, the digging in the language and its rhythms, highlighted graphically, not simply a mere self-dissolution, as the last things, but serves to explore and pursue the monstrous reality of the present to make a wise and nice dictated that, while its high literary rate, known to be close to things and bodies, and their massacre.
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And there was time
footprint , a cry, a sign above the tuff
pace crackling of leaves as
and the words whispered to the sky,
enough to find the heart
in the petals of that time.
Anxiety
flights and blistering nettles close at hand.
It was held the darkness over the threshold
to whip the top and the silence.
Inside the house the wave of his fire. Water
love with pots of geraniums, the song of maidens
Saracen
in spores of years to ancient springs. On the wall of friendship
the black cat
nail the caress of sunset.
It was time to find bread,
time for butterflies around the sun,
time to chase the circle and wind. The rain had
pearls in the yard and every drop in the pale moonlight.
John Case, Mercato San Severino (SA)
2nd prize without. A
Motivation of the Jury:
The author retrieves fragments of memory through signs, objects, gestures of everyday life, which, while maintaining their physical, suggestively refer to a reality "other", built with a language in which hours of images on a canvas you can create a slight bodily hours suggestive metaphors, using notes from dolceamare a nostalgic score.
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Lot's wife
Tonight I released the my horses.
I gave food to the dogs blind
then I came among the mountains to find you.
I walked barefoot, carried in his arms
sunflowers on.
I do not know how I wanted to be. I
only a closed body, the sum of a thousand failures
newspapers.
How could I survive the winter or even ignore the light of your face.
Now I just need the absurd pride of losers:
stop time with the gentle gesture of a hand,
challenge head-on the fury of those who can not bend
nor has it ever been able to read my heart.
Death, you know, I'm not afraid.
Is not that a subtle change in the air, a breath
that just shakes the earth
but then calmed down, without making a sound.
E 'abandonment that most frightens me.
E 'you drop what hurts the most when your eyes
burns and transforms me into salt.
Tell me sentisti my screams and the blood was stone?
've found in me the anger that you nourish your heart?
How can we meet your eyes and do not tremble as
look up to heaven and not be destroyed.
But despite everything I still tended to
your hands as your big hands, your hands
so dreadfully empty.
There will be time now to forget.
an unlimited time, as in childhood.
And then stand still between the ears of corn,
with this useless pride to shine in the eyes, with the ivy
to shake my wrists and my waist.
Daniela Raimondi London
3rd prize section. A
Motivation of the Jury:
is sometimes used to draw ideas and impressions of situations and historical events, from biblical events as in the case of this interesting lyrical, poetic to revise and reconstruct the episode. The operation is not easy and can 'cross over in the simple transcription of a chronicle, which has nothing really poetic. But when the story is only a distant historical reference that is periodically updated, endorsed and then universalized, then we are faced with a great capacity for poetic compendium, and this is the case of "Lot's wife", in which the biblical is employed as a grand metaphor of feminine life, suffered nella quotidianità ripetitiva e demoralizzante, ma riscattata dal desiderio di verità e di amore, seppure a caro prezzo ("E' il tuo abbandono quello che fa più male / mentre il tuo sguardo brucia e mi trasforma in sale").
La lirica è intensa e di sicuro effetto icastico.
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‘A primmavera d’ ‘o Quarantaquatto
Na mamma ‘inta nu scialle
primma ‘e fa’ notte asceva p’ ‘a campagna
‘nfosa ‘e rusata
a scapezza’ cu ‘e mmane annurecate
quacche fronna ‘e cicoria.
Po’ se chiammava ‘e figli
Rummana flaws nun 'ncantate
' to na invoice quanno Ascevi 'to the moon. Every night
na cross
p'attizza '' Zip subt '' a nu Tiano
'and mending attegnecuto
while tarnishing' light 's' lantern
' or we were c'abbruciava dint ll'uocchie. And it seemed
quase 'and feel' 'or heat' el'ommo Sujo
myself parted pe 'gghi' 'a war
quanno arap' or furno and nu perfume
span 'or ppane comm' 'or skied' and Ddio.
Po 'all alone, Stritto' mmiez 'and expedient, if he said
‘o rusario. E dint’ ‘a spiga
s’ammaturava ‘o ggrano,
turnava ‘o llatte ‘mpietto ‘a vaccarella
e ‘ncoppe ‘a vite ‘a primma pigna d’uva.
S’addurmeva ‘o dulore dint’ ‘e surche
d’ ‘a terra, ‘int ‘e fferite
cchiù annascose d’ ‘o core
mentre saglieva ‘o ffuoco ‘int’ ‘o Vesuvio
e primma ancora ca fernesse ‘a guerra
benette l’eruzzione.
Ma n’angelo vestuto ‘e primmavera
scennette a stuta’ ‘a lava
pe’ nun ferma’ ‘e surdate about turn. She then if renchiette
mom 'or shawl
cu' e sciuri d '' e ca gghianeste
shone 'mmiez' 'black and pprete
comme si tutte' and llacreme chiagnute
fragments were addEvent 'e sole.
Salvatore Cangiani, Sorrento
1st prize section. B
Motivation of the Jury:
bittersweet story told in this wonderful poem with verses from the highly lyrical and melodic rhythm, that denotes a mastery of the vernacular of Naples. Sweet and bitter at the same time, 'cause, in a single frame of genteel poverty ("Every night na cross p'attizza' 'Zip sott''a nu Tian' and mending attegnecuto ... "), a nostalgic hold (" It seemed to her almost 'and feel' 'or heat' and myself parted Ommo Sujo pe 'gghi' 'a war ... ") and hope (" E dint''a ear s'ammaturava 'or ggrano, Turn' milk or 'mpietto' to Vaccarella and 'ncopp''a lives' in Primm cone ... grape "), the author manages to engage the sweetness of this woman who, with her shawl blooming broom, rushes to meet her husband, whose return is made possible by "N'angelo dress 'and primmavera, which fell to cooker or' 'a lava pe' nun stops '' round and about ... surdato
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And we were nuje
... 'Na streppa ‘e sole, n’aria fatta ‘e niente,
tant’è liggera, ‘nu felillo ‘e viento,
‘na chiorma chiara ‘e nuvole ca’ passa,
n’auciello ‘ncopp’ ‘o rammo ca se spassa,
‘nu sorde ‘e luna ‘a sera ‘ncopp’ ‘o monte
ca te cunzola quanno ‘a luna sponta…
E nuje restammo!
E nuje restammo ‘nziem’ ‘o ffuoco muorto
cu ‘e braccia ‘ncroce e ‘o core appiso ‘a ciorta!
E comme ‘e furmechelle sfurtunate
ca portano ‘e mulliche ‘int’ ‘o pertuso,
malericenno ‘o juorno ca’ so’ nate,
forse ‘o sapimmo ca’ muntagna pazza
si po’ se’ scete, a tutte ‘nce scamazza.
Ma nuje restammo!
Mmiez’addore de’ pigne e de’ mimose,
vicino ‘a vocca ardente c’arreposa,
co’ chianto scunsulato de’ chitarre,
ca’ voce senza voce de’ guagliune,
‘ncantate dint’ ‘e suonne ca’ nisciuno
vulesse maje sunna’.
E nuje restammo!
Vicino ‘o ffuoco ca’ ‘nce volle ‘ncuorpo,
piglianne ‘a lava po’ surore ‘e Dio,
restanno 'and children from' melancholy
ca 'fear apt dint' all'uocchie
p'ogne shock ca 'we might' int '' e ddenocchie.
Yes! Nuje we were!
Cercanno 'or feeling' and Chesta history nosta
unnecessarily: 'a head is too tough! And
dint '' e vvene addo 'if' torch 'or sun, and
fragno and mmore comme' an'onn'a mmare,
nuje 'nce criscito' force 'and na' song,
and "dawn win, "na vote again,
pe 'quant'overo exist' or juorno and 'a notte,
arricamammo meglio ‘e Pavarotte!
Adolfo Silveto, Boscotrecase (Na)
2° premio sez. B
Motivazione della Giuria:
Simbiosi di caparbietà e di melodico, nostalgico sentimento di attaccamento alla propria terra, alle proprie origini, questa poesia dai toni vibranti, impreziosita dal vernacolo napoletano che è sinonimo di passione e di forte intensità espressiva, simboleggia l'ormai eterno dissidio tra la necessità di sradicarsi dalle zone pericolose del territorio vesuviano, in vista di un malaugurato ma purtroppo possibile risveglio del nostro antico Vesuvio, e il desiderio forte, innato, di rimanere: "E nuje restammo", nonostante il pericolo, nonostante small earthquakes warning, despite everything, we remain: there is too much the feeling that binds us to this land, the pain is too strong for any necessary detachment.
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