Poems by Greta Bellamacina PLUS “London at Night” EOF Exclusive Poem!

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The last time we spoke with the gorgeous and talented Greta Bellamacina she was getting for a poetry read in Paris, the city of lights, and we were lucky enough to read an original poem written for The Eye of Faith on the banks of the Mississippi River.

Now she is back, with another exclusive poem, and a new book of poetry hand-picked by the divine poet laureate herself, as well some gorgeous black and white portraits that portray the artist in the most gorgeously mysterious manner. . .

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Even as she works hard on a commission by the Royal Academy for their annual summer show, she still has time to be one of the world’s most intriguing style stunners, most especially at the release of POEMS which was featured on the VOGUE UK blog!

 

 

 

London at night 

 

the unbearable night

the night building which washes water 

the night wind which sounds like trapped radiator spirits

the night red light mill

the night full of ship tears

the night window that pains

the mystery that calls you old-fashioned

the night meadow of drafts

the water you would plant under the ground

to save a generation. 

The night walls that shudder flowers

the night woman who is bare 

the equal distances from arms and closed eyes

and gardens that makes a city wide. 

The great face of street kingdoms

the letting of strangers

with metal coloured necks and the sex of swans.

The night cars that are already knocked at doors

the eyes of god lamps 

the night love of dead trees

the five stoned fat of sunlight behind the night

the nights spangle of solace

the park firing of birds

the parks angels

the denial of kneeing

the fear of the colour grey 

the night that is your collar bones

the night which is a wife

the nights common breath

the night watching over the year

and requiting the vertical fires of land

with sea-sore heads.

The unforgiving night

the polite notion of restarting and the barking of roses.

The night skin of summer

the eight ways you became bother and sister

for the sake of rainwater

freely whiter than burnt wood. 

 

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G.Bellamacina

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Until next time,
{theEye}
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