Daniel Pantano

Langenthal, BE, Switzerland

I express myself throughout the medium of writing. It's my way of dealing with life, my way of sharing my thoughts and visions with the universe and the spirits beyond human consciousness. Let me tell you something about poetry: "Real Poetry" doesn't say anything. It needs the reader's personal view in order to give it true and important meaning. "Real Poetry" is open for everything, open for everybody - no good or bad poetry, no boundaries, no restrictions - because the "Final Statement" will not change. "United we are in the faith of the falling ball, Bouncing around within heaven's hall."

Neptune's Funeral

In those ancient underwater gardens,
Deep below human mind's fantasies,
My body is floating down that sparkle fog,
My eye touches the beauty of a thousand- princesses,
Hazardous reflections dipped in everlasting harmony,
The gentle flood brings me further down,
Until I touch that undulating surface,
Driftwood is flying across the blue colored sky,
It is further but more visible than before,
The sea is a fierce power --- careless,
Now they become silent, those gossipers,
Now that I am here, far away and deep below,
Sitting on my bed of pain with that cureless body,
I see myself sick, pale and empty,
"Deliver me," I cry, "let me sleep forever, slow and deep."

Picturesque

Let's say, you are a pitcher
on a plane - winter desert -
One stop away from you, there
is a pond - bloody surface -
The young primrose behind you
is throwing out a bitter flavor -
While the lazy leaf uses the wind
to cross the horizon...

The Roman Emperor on his
brown horse
picks you up
later --
throws you down
just like an ancient cadaver

Burst!

He just killed you,
on a pure, rural day.
-a poetic death sentence.

Holy Vision

I sneak through the ancient graveyard - barefooted,
With my friends beside me, laughing and whispering,
The thick and invisible silence affects us all equally,
While we are trying to hide our fear of unsettled spirits,
I bend my knees at a mother's tombstone -written in 1885,
And imagine her soul's rebirth beyond the horizon,
As the eggshell brakes and the earth under my knees moves,
I see two angels making love in the living grass...