Moreno Tonioni
Happiness, in its best form, is nothing more than an intimate inner condition ... Intimate, personal and independent of others.
Contributions: Editing - Critical Comment
The Arcobaleno del Nero is certainly not a novel, nor a documentary about Milan, nor a treatise on esotericism.
The Arcobaleno del Nero "is as brilliant as ineffable fantasy history, capable of mixing in perfect alchemy, the legends gravitating on ancient Milanese remains, with the atavistic human need to interpret the arcane.
The story unfolds starting from a reformed genesis, which matures in the guest that different consciousness which will become revealing of the inexplicable.
The narrative flows impetuously between the vestiges of an unimaginated Milan, in which the various characters alternate and intersect, orient the gestures of the protagonist.
This story, thanks to the originality of the narrative and the immediacy of the dialogues, would certainly be the perfect plot of a highly successful film. Recommended for those who get up in the morning and do not refuse to ask questions and get involved, with a curious gaze and an open mind to the beyond. Moreno Tonioni (never-more)
RIP Oriella
Contributions: Editing - Cover graphics - Printing
An unexpected encounter, a music that melts the strings of the soul and the desire to believe in it again, to tell someone about one's past, to finally leave it behind, with all its beauty, with all its pain. And it will be an incredible adventure to follow Eva in her native Gallipoli, and then find her in Bologna, a "biscuit maker" in a small shop that seems to come out of a fairy tale. And then meet extraordinary characters, such as grandmother Brina, so small and strong as a rock, Maria Lucrezia, relentless and terrible, Fausto and Giustina, an elderly couple who wrapped Eva in true, unconditional love, and then Emilia, Emanuele,
Mara and Alberto. A journey of more than twenty years, a story that will leave its mark, until the epilogue, unexpected and that bath, in the clear waters of Gallipoli, in the rain ... where the "wisdom of the wave" will lay the truth on its lap that he had waited so long.
(Preface on the back cover)
Contributions: Critical comment
The author of this "volume", who has come beyond the ridge that marks the transition to the mature poet, finds himself, in addition to husband and father, grandfather.
He, happily wrapped in this circular embrace, collects the word from thought, creating the outline that I am going to illustrate.
The Pettineo sits his thoughts and opens himself to introspection and blissfully places himself towards the rare and precious gift that invests him, weaving precious verses of love with the word.
Grateful to life for the gift received, he pays homage to his beloved companion, wife and mother of his children.
A man and a woman who once met will influence each other until they penetrate, becoming part of the same breath.
As they refine, they will walk the same path of life side by side, sharing the joys, cohesive and confident, but also the pains and difficulties that living imposes.
"Parallel lines" is also the incipit and title of the first poetics belonging to this kind of silloge, suggesting to the reader what he will read.
Carl Gustav Jung said that the meeting of two personalities is like the contact between two chemical substances: if there is any reaction both of them will be transformed, changing into a single, albeit split, identity.
Always Jung, said that these individuals, capable of an alchemical union, generating new life, therefore children, will be projected unconsciously into a deeper understanding of the marriage relationship, strengthening their union in the loving kindness they will project on their descendants, and further strengthening in it.
Parallel lines is an exquisite love gift, woven with free verses of fine workmanship.
The dynamic of the word flows fluidly, unraveling that enlightened metaphor which, welcoming, invites to a subsequent rereading.
The Pettineo, thanks to the skillful use of language, generates a plot of rare beauty, surprisingly usable thanks to the immediacy with which it falls and smiles at the soul of the reader. Moreno Tonioni (never-more)
Contributions: Cover graphics - Editing - Printing
Collection of texts and images (photos, stories and poems) participating in the third edition of the "Mani in Volo" Poetry Competition
Contributions: Cover graphics
Silloge of Poetry
Curator: I. Sparagna
Publisher: Stravagario
Year of edition: 2016
Pages: 62 p., Softcover
EAN: 9788896349168
Contributions: Preface
Writing and editing the preface of a book, when it comes to fiction, is a fairly simple task: the scenarios are outlined and their progressive scrolling highlighting the peculiarities and the technique of the writer. Quite different is the approach that the "editor" must have towards a collection of poems. Since it is not prose, in order to better fulfill its task, the latter must penetrate and violate the intimate of the poet by insinuating violently and violently his own soul.
"Ithaca, my father's house" is the eloquent title of this diary.
Diary, yes, because the author, caught by the tsunami imposed on him by life, verges, day after day, the succession of emotions that overwhelm her.
I do not hide from you that many times the emotion has caught me during my journey.
At the opening, immediately after the title, a clear reference to the immutable, the inevitable that appears in the guise of the most horrid of the Fates is striking:
“Atropos will come
with its shears
knocking on the door
my father's".
Already this only ignites my thirst to know what the author intends to externalize, prompting me to read hastily and avidly the progress of verses that from one poem fall into the other revealing the guiding thread of this travel diary, of life , of memories. I reread, now more calmly, emphasizing the words, the verses, the emotions.
“Gypsy return of feelings
and fragile with places ”.
The pouring of De Stefano envelops me with grace. The metaphor, the obligatory vehicle of the best poet, is refined, elegant, simple to understand but never banal. The verses are fluid and joyful as if they wanted to escape the yearning of the suffering narrated. The mastery of the word, the skilful choice of cadences harmonize, generating a succession of preciously made lyrics.
It is not Ulysses who returns, there is no Penelope waiting for him and there is no Odyssey behind him. There is a woman, a mother, a daughter who, having returned to her native country to assist her sick father, finds herself having to face the "unsolved" who at a young age took her elsewhere.
“I wish I still had the time
to be able to talk to you
of what made us distant
in our living "
If in opening this book, you thought you were reading one of the many "collections" of lyrics, you would be mistaken. "Ithaca, my father's house" is much more than a simple poetic outline. It is an abacus, an account table where unfinished deeds and unspoken words collide the memories of the past with a reality amplified by events. The poems of this collection will draw you, in color, the old peeling walls, the rough hands of the fishermen intent on repairing the nets, those sunsets that never cease to enchant. The places described take shape to the point that not only will you feel you are experiencing them, but you will also feel their aromas and scents.
If places are the masters in this lyrical narrative, it is in the figures of mom and dad the key to understanding the whole.
“I became a woman
in the shade absent
my mother's"
I don't want to go further in this mine. I stop to not deprive the reader of the surprise, enchantment and poignant beauty of this "opera novel". I also stop out of modesty, because if in the narrative it is the fantasy that masters, in poetry it is the intimate of the author who tells his story in the articulation of events.
I invite those who read to do it with the same touch, knowing as of now that they have certainty of emotions that he himself has probably experienced.
After all, what else is poetry if not "a dress in elastic and snug fabric, capable of wearing any size, any soul, any joy or pain".
I close this by wishing my friend Nadia all the good I can imagine, and why not, wishing that the past has to dress with the colors of a sweet memory. Moreno Tonioni (never-more)
Contributions: Biographical notes of the author.
Rita Cottone was born in Tripoli of Libya in December 1964.
Married and proud mother of two beautiful girls and proud daughter of exemplary parents, she lives in Naples where she professionally teaches motor sciences in a scientifically oriented institute.
Cottone says of herself, "" I don't feel I am a poet, I think I am simply a woman who expresses the most hidden emotions of the soul with the word "". And this is actually what the attentive reader will have as a gift from reading the production of this sunny and kind author.
Reading the poetry of Rita leads to know the character exquisiteness of a poet capable of sublimating with the word those feelings that commonly mortify and pain the soul, a mourning, an abandonment or a burning disappointment.
His texts are born from skilful intertwining of metaphors of simplicity and beauty, sometimes disarming in their ability to soften the suffering narrated to the point of turning them into joyful visions.
If we wanted to recognize a planet in a poet, well it would be the sun with its heat and its light to represent it. If we wanted to compare his poetry in one element, this would be water that nourishes and quenches thirst, purging the spirit of the filth that afflicts every man or woman indiscriminately.
Cardarelli affirmed that poetry is born of despair and dies in pain ... well the word of Cottone comes from the need to stem despair and develops in the circumstances of that soulfulness capable of changing suffering into a sweet elegy, phoenix of a renewed joy of life.
Rita Cottone publishes her poems on a web portal on the page www.ritacottone.scrivere.info and her works have won acclaim in various literary events, receiving an honorable mention among them with the elaborate "Between silences and lies" all eighth poetry contest "Castello di Sopramonte", held in Prato Sesia on September 23, 2012 as well as a prestigious first prize with the opera "The child of war" at the competition "Writing Poetry 2011", celebrated in July 2011 in the capital.
Moreno Tonioni (never-more).
