HERON’S FORMULA ON THE LITERARY PORTAL

HERON’S FORMULA ON THE LITERARY PORTAL

Heron’s Formula on Mari’s Manual literary portal.

I have in my heart three feelings with which one can never be bored: sadness, love and gratitude.
Alexandre Dumas

I sincerely thank Mari’s Manual for welcoming me on their literary portal.

Now Heron’s Formula is also here, as well as part of the Book Fair Gallery.

 

I can only say that I am extremely honored and I steal the words from the song: I think I feel CONFUSED AND HAPPY 🎶

In case you are not yet familiar with Mari’s Manual, you find the essence in the slogan: Poetry and Literature in the Seas of the Web.

I find the seas of the web to be a beautiful definition: aren’t we all virtual sailors?

Indeed, I would say better virtual sailors and dreamers.

Traveling the length and breadth of the world I have met magnificent dreamers, men and women who stubbornly believe in dreams. They keep them, cultivate them, share them, multiply them. I humbly, in my own way, did the same.
Luis Sepúlveda

So Heron’s Formula on Mari’s Handbook literary portal for me is first and foremost a dream, but I hope it can also be a journey that will lead me to the possibility of learning, discovering and sharing.

BETWEEN THE FINGERS OF DREAMS

BETWEEN THE FINGERS OF DREAMS

Between the Fingers of Dreams is the gift I received from Anna Calisti thanks to Manual of Mari

The cover of the book shows a red rose and Rosa Rossa is the pseudonym of the author who literally put her heart into this book.

And with my heart I thank her.

Anna’s poems paint Love in all its forms, in all its facets, even the painful ones, each just like a rose petal: delicate, fragrant, colorful and velvety.

Some petals are personal dedications, other petals are reflections, and there is also some poetry in French because life led Anna to move with her family to Luxembourg.

Anna was born the same year as my mom, but before I discovered this I was already caring for her.

In this comment she told me about how her mother used to make coffee on the wood stove,  you can imagine me, reading with heart eyes, can’t you?!

Anna’s poem I prefer is in fact Memories: it conveyed to me the full force of her roots which I cherish.

The world in a square, life flowing, a journey through time.

Between the fingers of dreams a title that allows to thnik to dreams in a tangible way, in some way allows to be able to touch them.

We are approaching the magical season of Christmas: is there a dream that you wish you could touch?

Speaking of dreams, understood not as wishes but precisely as sleep-related psychic phenomenon, for me they always represent an intense desire to be able to find any messages they contain.

What do you think about this?

Do you think there is a definite reason behind what our R.E.M. phase shows us?

Can you understand your dreams?

MARTA’S BROLO

MARTA’S BROLO

I sincerely thank Beatrice Tognarelli and Mari’s Manual for the opportunity to read Marta’s Brolo

I admit that when I first read the title of this book, I wondered what a brolo was.

Do you know?

Around here, we don’t call it brolo, we just say vegetable garden, or in slang “vineyard” even though there isn’t any vine plant.

So: at the first step of Marta,s Brolo I learned something new.

But the most beautiful surprise was this wonderful dedication.

And I listened to the author’s heart and I sensed a deep love for roots, with reference to both the land and family, and this as you know is something that I cherish.

Are you fortunate enough to have a vegetable garden?

My father has always tended vegetable gardens: at our house we only had a strip of land, but he also helped elsewhere, allowing us to eat fresh, wholesome vegetables.

This, on the other hand, is the mini garden that my father-in-law gave us for the kitchen, although in the house unfortunately the plants suffer.

Speaking of cooking, I enjoyed the recipes that Marta’s Brolo encompasses.

So did the particular “introductions” to each chapter.

I was also pleased to find several references to coffee, including this one

The smell of coffee intoxicated the room, she poured it into the cup, and stood at the window to taste it, closed her eyes as the rustle of vegetation came to her, suave sound of the countryside.

What sound comes from your window as you drink coffee?

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