Atticus’ poetry

Two of the surprises for this year’s birthday were a fun contrast: the first one was a Pocketbook (I have officially joined the e-readers) and the other was two incredible poetry books that captivated me both in content and in polygraphy.

If I were to describe Atticus’ style (which, like Banksy, expresses themselves solely through their art, without sharing their identity), perhaps “modern haiku” would come very close to my sensations, though not all of the poems are short. As for the books – this is how I imagine books must look today in order to want to own them on paper in this digital age: a masterly piece of work, with attention to detail, varied and original design, flawless quality and so tactile I wish to go through their pages again and again. In short – inspiration!You can follow Atticus on Instagram. And here some of the poems that touched me:

“Break my heart
and you will find yourself inside.”

“Do not fall in love with me
for I will break your heart
long before you realize
you were going to break mine.”It’s not the fear of losing them 
that scares us,
it’s that we have given them
so many of our pieces
that we fear losing
ourselves
when they are gone.

“When I saw you first, it took
every ounce of me not to kiss you.
When I saw you laugh, it took
every ounce of me not to love you.
And when I saw your soul, it took every ounce of me.”

“Does the sun promise to shine?
No, but it will – 
even behind the darkest clouds,
and no promise
will make it shine longer or brighter
for that is its fate,
to burn until it can burn no more.
To love you is not my promise
but my fate –
to burn for you
until I can burn no more.”

“The hardest step
we all must take
is to blindly trust
in who we are.”

“True art
comes
from flying
with the madness
so close
you burn
your eyelashes.”

“What of the firefly,
the one I love to chase?
The old man smiled
Love her
he said
but leave her wild,
and the old oak tree I love to climb?
Love her, he said, but leave her wild
the bird that sings that song I love?
Love her, he said, but leave her wild
and the wolf that cries to the old joke moon?
Love her, he said, but leave her wild
and the horse that loves to run wit storms?
Love her, he said, but leave her wild.
And what of 
her,
the one I love most?
and the old man smiled.
Yes, he said,
you must love her too
but love her wild
and she’ll love you.”