Daniel Brick

Gold Star - 80,932 Points [none] (June 10,1947 / St. Paul MN)

Daniel Brick Poems

521. The Fall 12/7/2016
522. Eleanor And The Golden Bird 12/9/2016
523. An Epiphany 2/11/2017
524. The Key 10/25/2016
525. An Incident In Early Spring On The Highway Of Pilgrims 2/27/2018
526. Last Moments 12/4/2017
527. Two Watchers 5/30/2017
528. Twilight Reverie 7/2/2017
529. Eight Lines 3/11/2017
530. What We Need 7/27/2017
531. Two Poets In A Garden 12/27/2017
532. Family Life 4/21/2018
533. Time Master 5/7/2016
534. Ode To A Cottonwood Stump 9/14/2014
535. September Comes 1/6/2014
536. Himself A Poetsittng 1/26/2015
537. They Were Very Happy 5/31/2016
538. The New Masters 3/19/2016
539. Who Said This? 1/17/2016
540. A Man Alone 1/26/2016
541. What Is Gained Through Loss 11/25/2016
542. An Analysis Of Modern Marriage 9/6/2017
543. An Unexpected Meeting Framed By Two Solitudes 11/3/2014
544. The One True Dream 5/13/2014
545. Between Stone And Stars 1/9/2014
546. Repose And Aggression 10/28/2014
547. Between Them 11/24/2016
548. A Lunar New Year Poem For Cigeng 2016 2/8/2016
549. Hidden In Possibility 4/6/2016
550. I Knew A Woman Once... 4/25/2016
551. Rejoice With Me! 2/23/2017
552. Wintering 1/3/2018
553. Daedalus In The Labyrinth 1/6/2014
554. Two Letter Poems In Spring 3/16/2014
555. The Final Premonitions 11/11/2014
556. Still I Slept 3/25/2014
557. A Few Second Thoughts 9/5/2016
558. The Crossing Part One 6/8/2017
559. Moving Into The House Late Winter,1985 2/7/2015
560. Winter Becoming Spring For Fabrizio Marc 2016 3/30/2016

Comments about Daniel Brick

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/31/2014 7:18:00 AM)

    About your poem BETWEEN STONE AND STARS

    lovely verses:

    And this old man will know
    from years of quiet prayer
    how it hurts is how it heals

    BETWEEN STONE AND STARS... è un titolo assolutamente azzeccato! ***absolutely nailed it! *** :)

    Io sono agnostico, ma amo l'atmosfera mistica (intimistica e assoluta) che si respira nelle antiche chiese romaniche, nei monasteri medioevali, nelle pievi di campagna dell'alto Medio Evo - c. VIII-XI secolo - (il termine PIEVE deriva dalla parola latina PLEBS [: gente -la plebe/ la gente semplice, di campagna-]; la Toscana ne è piena) ..
    Mi piace passare del tempo lì, immerso nel loro profondo silenzio.. ad ascoltare quel suono silenzioso che è la voce della pietra.. e, insieme, le voci nascoste delle moltitudini di persone che hanno attraversato i secoli.. quel profondo silenzio che rappresenta la voce nascosta dell'universo che è dentro ciascuno di noi..

    I'm agnostic, but I love the mystical atmosphere (intimistic and absolute) that reigns in the ancient Romanesque churches, in well preserved medieval monasteries, in those beautiful country churches (PIEVI) of the High Middle Ages - meaning VIII-XI centuries - (*PIEVE* comes from the latin word PLEBS [=people]; Italy, and Tuscany in particular, is full of them)
    I love spending some time there, nestled in their deep silence.. listening to that hushed sound that is the stone's voice.. and -in the same time- the hidden voices of the multitudes of people who have crossed the centuries.. that deep silence that stands for the voice of the Universe that is hidden inside each of us..

    Fabrizio

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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/31/2014 7:12:00 AM)

    about your poem STILL I SLEPT

    Daniel, you say: this poem is an exercise in creating imagery and using figures of speech.

    Well, it is a very good exercise, indeed: you are a skilled, excellent craftsman, which can create different & contrasting reality with the language of Poetry.

    The last stanza:

    ******

    [Unexpectedly two great eyelids closed.
    No promises were kept, no expectations,
    met. Hope stopped, love never began.
    I awoke.]

    ******

    is particularly intriguing, so much that I could not resist the temptation to translate it..

    Well, I post here an Italian version of your own stanza (changing it a little, even the punctuation) , picturing it as a poem in its own right, with its own title... Hope you can accept it as a friendly tribute to your creativity.


    *************************************


    Awakening [* IL RISVEGLIO *]


    Inaspettatamente, due immense palpebre si sono chiuse.

    Nessuna promessa è stata mantenuta. Nessuna aspettativa
    soddisfatta. Nessun amore è sbocciato; svanita ogni speranza.

    Alla fine, mi sono risvegliato.


    *************************************


    You know, translating your lines, I've thought and thought about how to give in my language the meaning of your last 2 words: I awoke.
    You can use, generally speaking, *finalmente* or *alla fine*, or *infine*, *da ultimo*, ...

    I had first translated them with *FINALMENTE, mi sono risvegliato*, where *finalmente* had sort of a positive meaning: sort of a relief... in my opinion it welcomes the occurrence of something awaited..

    But then I opted for *Alla fine, mi sono risvegliato.* because *alla fine* is more neutral - aseptic, I'd say :)
    Tale traduzione è più congeniale alla mia indole.. Such a translation is more congenial to my disposition.. :)

    Fabrizio

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/28/2014 3:12:00 PM)

    Thank you, Daniel.

    I've read and read again your comments. And the two poems (the new ones) of yours - And your bio, too!

    I have to say that, reading all your words, I could not help but think of a great poet of the XX century, Ezra Pound.. You are generous and sensitive, caring and compelling. And a very good poet. Really.

    Answering your message:

    About CHINESE GARDENS: yes, I wrote a number of poems in English -not my mother language, you know. I decided to write them in your language ab initio, originally, so they are not a work of translation. I am not good in translating my Italian poems into English, but maybe the ones I have written in English are not so bad, if your comments are so good! :)
    All the 5 English poems I've posted here (at PoemHunter) are from CHINESE GARDENS.
    You have already read 4 of them (BEYOND, TENDERNESS, YOU & I, GREEN FRIED SPINACH) .
    The 5th is SESQUIPEDALIA VERBA. All of them have got an Italian version, as you've surely noted.
    Than, at PH, there are 3 more poems (COMA is one of the 3) which I wrote in Italian... About them, giving an English version is really hard fo me (read more below) .

    About your note on my poem COMA:

    1. William Wordsworth, yes, a GREAT POET indeed. The Lyrical Ballads are so beautiful.. But I have to say that I prefer John Keats. When you think that Keats was only 25 when he died in 1821 (1 year earlier than Shelley, who was only 30 when he died) and that he had published only three works.. well.. Wordsworth had a very long life (80 years) to devote to poetry; Keats just a few years, but his verses are heavenly ones..

    2. About the translation of my poem COMA into English: it's not an easy task for me. You know, I've written about 30 poems in English, but I wrote them ORIGINALLY in English. In such a case it is not difficult for me to give the Italian version. But it is different for verses which were born ITALIAN, originally. They are mine, yes - of course :) - but the intimate fabric of the poem is so deeply rooted in my mother tongue that it is not so easy to give the exact meaning when I try to translate it.. It is my fault, I know.. I'm not good as a translator!

    Thanks again - from the very deep of my heart- for your beautiful [astonishingly beautiful! ] comments.

    Fabrizio

  • Sandra Feldman (12/13/2014 12:54:00 AM)

    Those who love poetry today are so hard to find.
    Daniel Brick, an outstanding poet himself has developed a deep comprehension and love for the poetic world so close to his heart that I think he can even feel and hear Poetry live and palpitate.

  • Frank Avon (10/27/2014 2:10:00 PM)

    Just to add to my comment below: I have now read several more of Daniel Brick's work. They are consistently of high quality, reminding me of my favorite living poet, Wendell Berry - simple yet elegant, accessible yet eloquent.

    By the way, what a great name for a poet: Daniel Brick. It must be a pseudonym - chosen perfectly. To be born with such a name would be a blessing indeed. Maybe I'll do one of my found poems sooner or later, using names of some of my favorite poets from PH.

  • Abekah Emmanuel Abekah Emmanuel (9/4/2014 12:44:00 AM)

    Hello Daniel,
    Let me seize the day and pour my few words on your page. I have keenly been following your poems and your comments about others too. There is simply no denying the fact that you are a star. Your pen brings joy and ignites passion in all your readers. You are doing a good job. Keep it up! Let me also invite you to my page while you glance through my works.Thank you great poet.

  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/7/2014 6:54:00 AM)

    nice poems. you are great in showing feels.that shows a good improvement. i invite you to read my poems at my poets page. that is a friendly invitation

  • Nika Mcguin Nika Mcguin (3/24/2014 5:04:00 PM)

    The angelic poet himself! ~ There is such great variety in his work that I could hardly catalog it all. His great insight about art, angels, existence, etc can all be found in his poetry. Also I've never seen a poet more well rounded in appreciation for other artists and poets(famous or not.) Also I'd like to give thanks for always commenting on my poems and being one of my best PH friends. Though there's no way I could bottle up all of my gratitude in one comment, this is my clumsy attempt lol.

    ~Nika

Best Poem of Daniel Brick

After The Poet's Death

His poems refuse
to mourn his passing, they
detach themselves from
books, magazines, wall hangings
and float freely
in the fair summer air.

Their refusal to mourn is
steadfast. 'He's just changed
his address, ' one of his
first poems says to the new
lyrics. 'He's done this before,
searching for a better place to live.'

'And we always go with him, '
pipes a small poem, barely
audible, maybe not
completed, hardly a poem
at all. 'We are all of us
pieces of his soul, ' booms

the lordly Epic Poem
of 24 cantos. 'We must
catch ...

Read the full of After The Poet's Death

September Comes

In summer, you were stunned
by green things blooming, bronzed
by heat released from every inch
of sky, carried across blue thresholds
by random winds. Oh, how you felt
this is the season of Forever!

'Come hither, ' urged bright morning
and you complied without a care.

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