Le poesie di Antonio Scappaticci   Rombo dei cannoni e fiore di pace           ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­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. … Continua a leggere→