Poesie sulla 1° e 2^ guerra mondiale scritte da Antonio

 Le poesie di Antonio Scappaticci

 

Rombo dei cannoni e fiore di pace

 

cannone.jpg

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­LA ­TRINCEA

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ora­ siam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­qui ­ad

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­aspettar

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­uno­ scavo,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­a ­far ­uscir

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­piombo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dalle ­canne

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­stanche

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ sparar

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­a­ bersagli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­vivi­:

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non­ un

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­gioco,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma­ una

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­guerra­!

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­FILO­ SPINATO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Siam ­pronti.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ora ­saltiam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sotto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­il ­fuoco

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nemico.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Noi­ siam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morti!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Siam…

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­GUERRA ­NEL­ CARSO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­S’è ­alzato,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­voleva­ farsi

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ sigaretta,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­morto!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­E’­caduto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­con­ le ­mani

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­alla ­nuca,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­i­ suoi­ figli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non ­rivedr….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

E’­FINITA

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­E’ ­finita,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ce­ l’ho ­fatta!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­son­ vivo,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non ­son ­morto,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma­ gli ­altri….

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­L’Europa

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­veste

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­un­ manto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nero.

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­BUM!BUM!

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Bum!Bum!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ notte ­ci

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­svegliam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­con ­un ­bum!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­odiam­ il

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tedesco ­alto ­e­ biondo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­spara ­col

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­fucile

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­coi ­cannoni

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­coi ­mitra.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­La ­mattina

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­c’è ­gente

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­non ­si

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sveglia

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­forse

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­domani

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ci ­sarò ­anch’io

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­dormirò

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­eternamente.

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­IN­ GUERRA

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Combattono

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­morti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­sangue

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tristezza

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­HA ­PREFERITO ­MORIRE

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­S’è ­fatto­ ammazzare

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per ­una­ patria

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per ­un­ mondo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­migliore

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per­ il­ futuro

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dei­ suoi­ figli.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­AMATEVI

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­State­ sempre

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­uniti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non­ litigate

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­pace­ e­ in­ amore

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­state

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­e­ vedrete

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ tutto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­meglio­ sarà.

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

MORTO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Oh,­coloro

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ son

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­caduti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in­ guerra

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ora ­riposan

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­pace

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nel ­ciel.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­NAZISKIN

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ha­ urlato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ha­ gridato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’han ­lasciato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morire

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nessuno

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’ha­ aiutato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per­ forza….

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­COLPITO!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­…Oh!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­L’han ­preso

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­il ­piombo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’ha ­toccato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­vivrà…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morirà…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­un ­mistero

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sarà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma ­per

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­alcuni

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ realtà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­stata ­già.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­HIROSHIMA

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Oh­ la ­guerra!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­infame

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ orrori

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­paura

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­sangue.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Madri

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dolenti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ lutti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­inutili,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­figli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ crescon

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­morti ­e ­feriti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­fra­ sangue

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­versato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­inutilmente.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Questa

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­la­ realtà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­non­ conoscono

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­quelle­ stupide

Canaglie.

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­infelicit…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­meglio

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­essere ­morti.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­HA ­PREFERITO ­MORIRE

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­S’è ­fatto­ ammazzare

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per ­una­ patria

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per ­un­ mondo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­migliore

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per­ il­ futuro

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dei­ suoi­ figli.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­AMATEVI

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­State­ sempre

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­uniti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non­ litigate

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­pace­ e­ in­ amore

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­state

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­e­ vedrete

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ tutto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­meglio­ sarà.

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

MORTO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Oh,­coloro

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ son

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­caduti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in­ guerra

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ora ­riposan

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­pace

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nel ­ciel.

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­NAZISKIN

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ha­ urlato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ha­ gridato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’han ­lasciato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morire

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nessuno

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’ha­ aiutato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­per­ forza….

 

 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­COLPITO!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­…Oh!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­L’han ­preso

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­il ­piombo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­l’ha ­toccato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­vivrà…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morirà…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­un ­mistero

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sarà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma ­per

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­alcuni

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ realtà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­stata ­già.



 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­HIROSHIMA

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Oh­ la ­guerra!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­infame

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ orrori

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­paura

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­sangue.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Madri

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dolenti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ lutti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­inutili,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­figli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che­ crescon

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­morti ­e ­feriti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­fra­ sangue

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­versato

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­inutilmente.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Questa

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­la­ realtà

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­non­ conoscono

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­quelle­ stupide

Canaglie.



BUM!BUM!

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Bum!Bum!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ notte ­ci

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­svegliam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­con ­un ­bum!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­odiam­ il

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tedesco ­alto ­e­ biondo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­spara ­col

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­fucile

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­coi ­cannoni

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­coi ­mitra.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­La ­mattina

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­c’è ­gente

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­non ­si

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sveglia

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­forse

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­domani

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ci ­sarò ­anch’io

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­che ­dormirò

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­eternamente.


 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­IN­ GUERRA

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Combattono

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­morti

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tra ­sangue

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­tristezza

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­infelicit…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­meglio

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­essere ­morti.


 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­LA ­TRINCEA

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ora­ siam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­qui ­ad

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­aspettar

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­in ­uno­ scavo,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­a ­far ­uscir

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­piombo

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­dalle ­canne

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­stanche

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di­ sparar

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­a­ bersagli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­vivi­:

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non­ un

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­gioco,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma­ una

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­guerra­!


 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­FILO­ SPINATO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Siam ­pronti.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ora ­saltiam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­sotto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­il ­fuoco

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nemico.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Noi­ siam

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­morti!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Siam…



 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­GUERRA ­NEL­ CARSO

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­S’è ­alzato,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­voleva­ farsi

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­una­ sigaretta,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­è ­morto!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­E’­caduto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­con­ le­ mani

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­alla ­nuca,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­i­ suoi­ figli

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non ­rivedr….


 

 

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

E’­FINITA

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­E’ ­finita,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ce­ l’ho ­fatta!

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­son­ vivo,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­non ­son ­morto,

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ma­ gli ­altri….

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­L’Europa

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­veste

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­di ­un­ manto

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­nero.


 

 

 

 

colomba.jpg

 

 

 

 

Canto di pace

La gente

che spara

dobbiamo

fermare

e al posto

di cantare

col fucile

col fiato

dobbiamo

gridare

Pace!

Pace!

Pace!


Sì alla Pace

Ora basta

Troppo sangue

si vede

versare

la dobbiam

finire

di sparare

 

L’ ulivo e la colomba

I due

simboli

di pace

dobbiam

dare

colombe

far volare

ulivi

piantare

e la pace

far tornare

 

Colomba

La colomba

tarda ad

arrivare

sento

e vedo

sparare

il sangue

versare

l’ ulivo

nel becco

sta per portare

e quando

arriverà

tardi

non sarà

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fiore di pace

L’ ulivo

dobbiam

dare

invece

il piombo

dobbiamo

sotterrare

 

 

Antonio Scappaticci

 

 

Poesie sulla 1° e 2^ guerra mondiale scritte da Antonioultima modifica: 2010-02-11T18:32:00+01:00da flosm5
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