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Pozzi's biography also superficially resembles that of another athletic, fair-skinned 20th-century female poet whose life ended prematurely in suicide and whose papers were heavily bowdlerized by her family after death: the American Sylvia Plath. The fraught father-daughter relationship and death-by-suicide also bring to mind the South African poet Ingrid Jonker. The poems in this collection tend to blend into one another, as they are all rather similar, even though their dates of composition are spread out across a nine-year timespan.

These poems are written in free verse and employ scenery-pieces from Pozzi's northern Italian landscape snow-covered mountains, blue alpine lakes, stone houses, trees, birds, horses, etc.

The Moon in Your Breath

The language is stripped-down, haiku-like in its economy. The abrupt juxtaposition of disparate images is also haiku-like: e. All these poems have the same speaker, which seems to be Pozzi herself. They read a bit like diary entries. In most of these poems, there are no "what if"s, no counterfactual suppositions, no complex imaginary constructs.

A Note on Poetry, Breath, Lines and Punctuation – Life of Breath

Nowhere in these poems does Pozzi analyze why she feels the way she feels, verbalize an opinion or an ethical stance, assert a generalization, synthesize disparate components into a theory, enunciate a philosophy. There is no cerebration here, no analytical commentary on life's flux of events, just a dance of perception and emotion: quite lovely, but ultimately for this one reader rather unfulfilling. Ariel Francisco rated it liked it Jul 23, Hadley rated it it was amazing Jul 18, Julia rated it liked it Nov 04, Flavia rated it it was amazing May 11, Maris rated it it was amazing Aug 20, C rated it liked it Feb 19, Stacy rated it liked it Nov 20, Emmy rated it it was amazing May 19, Elizabeth rated it it was amazing Jan 05, Daria rated it it was amazing Oct 08, Gabriela rated it it was amazing Dec 03, Elissia rated it really liked it Mar 12, Hannah Jackson rated it really liked it Jun 30, Edith Zdunich rated it really liked it Feb 16, Edith Zdunich rated it really liked it May 15, Mary Wise rated it really liked it Apr 24, Kyle Lindenberger rated it really liked it May 15, Mary Dalton rated it really liked it Dec 15, Alli rated it liked it Nov 10, Wikimedia Italia added it Dec 31, Kate marked it as to-read Feb 17, Catherine Limbsombe marked it as to-read Feb 26, Mpho3 marked it as to-read Jul 20, Alli marked it as to-read May 17, Elise Noire marked it as to-read Jun 18, Amanda marked it as to-read Jun 23, Tess added it Jan 23, Peter marked it as to-read Mar 17, Sonia marked it as to-read May 23, Stefano Selenic marked it as to-read Jun 24, Nate marked it as to-read Apr 01, Erasmus added it Jun 14, Debbie Robson marked it as to-read Jul 31, Enid marked it as to-read Aug 01, Jacob Lenz-Avila marked it as to-read Aug 25, Linda marked it as to-read Sep 01, Richard Semus marked it as to-read Dec 25, Kate marked it as to-read Dec 25, Erin Chaballa marked it as to-read Dec 26, Bekki marked it as to-read Dec 29, Yulia marked it as to-read Dec 30, Grace marked it as to-read Dec 31, Look, almost nothing left, Better take a breather, Hope it will last..

Ask yourself what's the difference between either and neither? Better not to choose, Waste your time, it's the breath you'll lose. But, a 'mountain high' can be found; Upward, one may look at a mountain around, But it is here under your feet, the highest earthly ground. Wrap me in What there is to see.

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Dream out ten thousand flowers, A dream of you and me. What's left to say But that "I love you. Fabiana May Charley Dzienis Dec At the funeral.


  • Post navigation;
  • A Note on Poetry, Breath, Lines and Punctuation.
  • Breath Of Life.
  • Breath: Poems and Letters by Antonia Pozzi.
  • Il était une fois Dublin (French Edition).
  • Gesänge und Inschriften (German Edition)?

A child cries over a hard candy fallen from his mouth, little black suit, a heads length over his chair. Why should he? The world is chaos. Carter Ginter Jun Comfortable in Coffee Shops.

O Breath - Poem by Elizabeth Bishop

White steam from green tea Old school rap echoing across the walls I ordered my own food and drink What I wanted instead of a rushed decision I feel free Starting conversations with strangers Holding good ones with my partner's partner Raising my hand in class and Actually sharing my opinion Without the fear of judgement Holding me back at all.

If love is like breathing Would it feel like I'm dreaming? Misplaced And Misled Aug Breathing You In. You were the crisp fresh air I breathed in Awakening my soul Clean and bearing no weight I effortlessly inhaled you Taking you in Embracing you and everything about you Chilled by your presence Sending goosebumps down my spine You were the opening of my eyes But at the same time You were the foggy air I breathed in Suppressing my soul Foul with a hefty weight Choking as i tried to force you out Slowly extinguishing me Avoiding you and everything about you Sickened by your presence Forcing me to stop breathing You are the sludge coating my lungs Making me want to never breathe again.

A huge weight pushes me down to the ground. A huge burden chained me around the wrist. I torture with every inhale, It's harder and harder to breathe with every exhale. Nylee Oct 3. Breathing Problem. Whilst the world wilts, Sunshine dims, River stills in between, Winds are hurrying The seasons are changing.

And we throw another plastic bag We suffocate our lifestyle Killing our species in style Make it harder to breathe. MJL Mar 7.

Breath Poems

I love the quiet coffee time early, before the day begins. Either alone with with my love, just a pause before the new day begins.

Time for introspection. Short breathes, forced. Laboring my breathing has taken up my mind, waking its once sleeping state.


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  • Breath Poems - The Allen Ginsberg Project.
  • More by Amy King.
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I open up my lungs only to get hit with regret as soon as they open. Fighting a battle with myself is hard, Especially when you are losing. O terrible world, why am i being punished? Val Vik Nov Ujjayi Breathing. When I close my eyes, I'm in my own space. My breath Seanathon Sep Breathing, Swimming, Being. There is more to living Than just a breath Or a heartbeat being Just as there is more to swimming Than the ocean Freshwater streams And the pools filled with meaning Simply put There is always more To be Than being.

I love it when my mind turns off. When my thoughts are no longer thinking and I can finally find myself, simply being, in the words. You know? That peaceful rest where your eyes are full and your mind is quiet with thought?