Castel Sant’Angelo (or Mole Adrianorum or Castellum Crescentii in the 10th-12th century), also known as the mausoleum of Hadrian, is a monument in Rome, located on the right bank of the Tiber in front of the pons Aelius (now the Sant’Angelo bridge), not far from the Vatican, between the districts of Borgo and Prati. it is connected to the Vatican State through the fortified corridor of the “passetto”. The castle was radically modified several times in medieval and Renaissance times.
It is here that Luciano Finocchioli, author of the book of poems “Storie di Vita”, lived.
Castel Sant’Angelo has inspired personalities, directors and songwriters throughout history. Its terrace is the point from which Tosca throws herself into the third act of Puccini’s famous opera.
So the author was inspired for his “songs”.
Luciano Finocchioli’s poetry immediately presents itself to the world (and to the reader) as a challenge, reflecting the cultural climate of a time that is still ours,
and by becoming the spokesman for a new intellectual personality who does not care about pleasing others or giving in to easy homologation.
The author claims the fact that he writes poetry even though the world does not need his poems: he writes poetry to be, to exist.
Reasoning, like all logical reasoning, goes from the general to the particular in an ineffable way.
Even if there seems to be no room in the world for poetry (and for poets), poetry – in spite of everything – exists and claims itself even in a society where superficiality is taking over interiority.
The world does not need poets, but fortunately poets exist and poetry is immortal because it is born with man himself and develops with his desire to understand, understand and interpret reality. One thing is now evident, that a lot of poetry is written, it is analyzed, for example the supplements, paper newspaper books write about it like never before.
As if we had realized that writing poetry is liberating; Because readers, in spite of everything, think that spending money on poetry books is useless.
In this collection there are all the themes dearest to the writer and also the kaleidoscope of feelings that he knew how to accompany them.
Luciano Finocchioli’s poetry is profound, melancholic. To read his verses is to stop time to meditate on the condition of a true humanity, like admiring the paintings of a painter by observing the characters who appear in them and discovering their state of mind; Like looking out of a window, spectators of what happens in the streets of a working-class neighborhood, or sitting on the top step of an entrance staircase in absorbed contemplation of each of the small events that occurs before your eyes and everything that happens in a more or less confined space in a more or less short time.
Reading Finocchioli’s poems is, again, like focusing one’s attention on that great multitude of minute events that often go unnoticed, especially on those that move within squares of flat everyday life, of simple things, of elementary gestures.
The author manages to amaze us with his confidential verse and heartfelt confession that tends towards writing in prose.
His is a poetry that knows how to ‘tell’ in an unequivocal, direct way, so clear and explicit as to arouse deep reflections, in moments of melancholic solitude or bewildered, thoughtful reasoning.
The message contained in his verses is filtered through a bare and essential literary style: for most, especially for the man in the street. Those who read the writer’s work approach, certainly not without painful reflection, the awareness that behind every human existence there are very often the pain of living and anguish, the same that the poet describes.