WRITERS&POETRY

5 June 2015

I’ve visited today the great Sebastião Salgado photo exhibition – Genesis, and my poem inspired by the magnificent photos

Genesis
Admirable photos from untouched nature,
the last eden on earth, the raw uncut
unadulterated,  original birth,
creation of earth, lost civilization,
reminding genesis, virgin lands,
life in the margin, beyond imagination.
Black and white, shades of grey,
Salgado, the human and social artist,
turning to nature.
From Madagascar, a tropical forest
surviving species sing in chorus,
the big eyes of the lemur in awe.
A floating piece of island with  baobab trees,
as a space ship, a secret in the breeze,
a light in the horizon, a long trip.
From Patagonia,  iceberg sculptures bending,
across Siberia and Alaska, native cultures,
extensions of neverending ice,
long story unfolding, a fifth dimension.
Amazonia recovering forest,
Terra foundation, Salgado contribution,
ode to nature,
legacy for future generations.
Primitive tribes, indian rituals,
how to describe?
Bosquimanes in Africa,
natives in Papua New Guinea,
creative stone instruments.
Body painting, scarification,
embossed scars for beauty,
virilization,
extravagant wigs and masks,
bones trespassing ears and noses.
From Galapagos, an iguana hand,
like armoured knight, in a desert land,
confirming Darwin species theory,
the same origin cell to begin.
Waving desert dunes
extending to the horizon,
suprematism art of clear lines,
sharp cut of sun and shadow.
Thirty years of travel art,
exhibition for posterity.

Poster com poema

Poem to Sebastião Salgado photos

Genesis 2

Wim Wenders together with Salgado made the documentary «Salt of Earth»

3 June 2015

This is the 8th and last week of the course and among farewells, another interesting link was shared: The Californian Journal of Poetics, and a collaboration between two writers and artists is described. One of themis a printmaker, who has produced woodcuts for the poems of the other:

Kim Addonizio is an acclaimed poet, novelist and short story writer.

Charles Jones is an artist/musician living and working in Nacogdoches, Texas where he designs, prints and binds Fine Press and Artist’s books, and original prints in a variety of media.

Here are some exemples:

Poem_Black_Snake_Blues_woodcut Poem_Harmonica_woodcut Poem_When_Joe_Filisko_plays_the_blues_woodcut

1 June 2015

I’ve enrolled in another Poetry MOOC starting next September from the Univ. Penn/Coursera. This a blog from the Kelly Writers House – https://jacket2.org/podcasts/i-hieroglyph-poemtalk-84

An email account was opened for people to continue interacting after this course – iowa.poetry.group@gmail.com.

Pablo Neruda’s Ode to Silence in Brain Pickings Blog

31 May 2015

Some peers shared their blogs/websites with poetry:

http://www.augustinesconfessions.blogspot.pt/ / http://www.nonnieaugustine.com/#

http://angelina-bong.blogspot.pt/

Other poets and poems mentioned:

Gil Scott-Heron, a black poet and musician, with social and political intervention: Lyrics – Whitey on the Moon

Shane Mccrae – Children

Beatris Fernandez – poems on ecological concerns.

30 May 2015

More poems on «persona» and «mask» shared in the discussion lines of this MOOC:

We Wear the Mask, by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
       We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
       We wear the mask!
http---www.pixteller.com-pdata-t-l-138900
Mad Farmer, by Wendell Berry
I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.
I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,
and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,
and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven’s favor,
in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught
so often laughing at funerals, that was because
I knew the dead were already slipping away,
preparing a comeback, and can I help it?
And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed
my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom
had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not
be resurrected by a piece of cake. ‘Dance,’ they told me,
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
‘Pray,’ they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth’s brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said, ‘I know my Redeemer liveth,’
I told them, ‘He’s dead.’ And when they told me
‘God is dead,’ I answered, ‘He goes fishing ever day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.’
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn’t,
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. ‘Well, then,’ they said
‘go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries,’ and I said, ‘Did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?’ So be it.
Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don’t know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.
29 May 2015

This week was dedicated to the theme of PERSONA

persona_glossary_the_poetry_archive

(in http://www.poetryarchive.org/glossary/persona)

Writing Persona Poems«Persona poems are poems written from a perspective other than your own. You use your imagination to enter the world of another character. You can write a persona poem from the perspective of a friend, an enemy, a relative, a pet, a celebrity, a historical figure, a character from literature or you can make up a character of your own.»

Why we wear Masks – «The persona was the mask worn by an actor in Greek drama. In a literary context, the persona is the character of the first-person narrator in verse or prose narratives, and the speaker in lyric poetry.»

I had to work and share Fernando Pessoa’s heteronyms and personas, so I made this interactive image with links for poems and analysis of his poems – https://www.thinglink.com/scene/661218686270439424

fernando_pessoa_heteronimos

28 May 2015

A short break away from home, delayed my posts.

My poem for this week on «persona», resulted from my participation in an european meeting on e-accessibility

e-Accessibility

I’m in Riga. We discuss e-accessibility for years,
and many to come.
Sterility of efforts?
Until it turns mainstream and universal.
Daydream?
One more contribution, future plans.
Joint resolution?
More recommendations for inclusiveness,
universal design for learning, education openness.
Discrimination. Who is disabled?
Attitudes. We all have limitations…
Or will, ageing. Break solitude.
Too many reports, action and practice failure.
Ups and downs. Beliefs and disbeliefs.
Change delays…

25 May 2015

I found these clickable poems – http://www.clickablepoems.com/#

An article about a teacher forced to resign for showing a video with Allen Ginsberg reading one of his poems.

A great song and lyrics by Johnny Cash – https://youtu.be/ZCqpPj87ekE 

A peer shared this indian poem which is very powerful – Namdeo Dhasal “Cruelty”.

He was a Dalit Activist and poet, wrote in Marathi. This is an excerpt. It talks amongst many things, of the cruelty of being labeled as pariah the moment of one’s birth, by the traditional caste system in India. He deliberately used swear words, and ”lowly language” as he represented those who were considered ‘lowly’ in the birth hierarchy. Some people consider him the most influential poet of post independent India.

“I am a venereal sore in the private part of language.
The living spirit looking out
of hundreds of thousands of sad, pitiful eyes
Has shaken me.
I am broken by the revolt exploding inside me.
There’s no moonlight anywhere;
There’s no water anywhere.
A rabid fox is tearing off my flesh with its teeth;
And a terrible venom-like cruelty
Spreads out from my monkey-bone.

Release me from my infernal identity.
Let me fall in love with these stars.
A flowering violet has begun to crawl towards horizons.
An oasis is welling up on a cracked face.
A cyclone is swirling in irreducible vulvas.
A cat has commenced combing the hairs of agony.
The night has created space for my rage.
A stray dog has started dancing in the window’s eye.
The beak of an ostrich has begun to break open junk.
An Egyptian carrot is starting to savour physical reality.
A poem is arousing a corpse from its grave.
The doors of the self are being swiftly slammed shut.
There’s a current of blood flowing through all pronouns now.
My day is rising beyond the wall of grammar.
God’s shit falls on the bed of creation.
Pain and roti are being roasted in the same tandoor’s fire.
The flame of the clothless dwells in mythologies and folklore.
The rock of whoring is meeting live roots;
A sigh is standing up on lame legs;
Satan has started drumming the long hollowness.
A young green leaf is beginning to swing at the door of desire.
Frustration’s corpse is being sewn up.
A psychopathic muse is giving a shove to the statue of eternity.
Dust begins to peel armour.
The turban of darkness is coming off.
You, open your eyes: all these are old words.
The creek is getting filled with a rising tide;
Breakers are touching the shoreline.
Yet, a venom-like cruelty spreads out from my monkey-bone.
It’s clear and limpid: like the waters of the Narmada river.”

23 May 2015

Poems of protest, war and conflict:

Dunya Mikhail – The War works hard  (about Iraq war)

Nazim Hikmet’s – Letters from a man in solitary (turkish poet convicted to 28 years in 1938, liberated in 1950 after international pressure)

Mahmoud Darwish – I come from there (palestinian poet)

Other poems in – https://20thcenturyprotestpoetry.wordpress.com/ 

22 May 2015

My political poem for this week, villanelle format:

An alter World

An alter world, another democracy,
Swing the forces, banks exposure,
Equity for people, rights equality.

Fair trade sources, a sober economy,
Disarm markets, tax havens closure,
An alter world, another democracy.

Save the earth to a better destiny,
Climate justice, time is over.
Equity for people, rights equality.

Public debt raising, an hypocrisy,
Finance pyramid, corporation rover.
An alter world, another democracy.

Virtual money lent, an opportunity?
No real correspondence, overexposure
Equity for people, rights equality.

We can change this unjust reality,
‘Podemos’, occupy, come closer.
An alter world, another democracy,
Equity for people, rights equality.

An alter World

Other classic famous villanelles

21 May 2015

More eco-social-political poems shared:

Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones) was well known for his strident social criticism, often writing in an incendiary style that made it difficult for some audiences and critics to respond with objectivity to his works. He died last year and this interview is from 2012 – https://youtu.be/SHG60P2ECNk 

«Perhaps the most influential African American poet of the last half of the twentieth century, Amiri Baraka helped define the Beat generation and served as a guide for the Black Arts movement of the 1960’s. Baraka’s work is simultaneously introspective and public; his combination of unrhymed open forms, African American vernacular speech, and allusions to American popular culture produces poems that express Baraka’s personal background while addressing political issues. Baraka’s poetry draws upon the poetic techniques of William Carlos Williams and Charles Olson, and upon traditional oratory, ranging from the African American church to streetcorner rapping.» (article)

Poems online

Somebody blew up America

Other videos with his public readings: Why is We Americans – DopeWailers – Why’s/Wise – Un poco Loco

Homework, by Allen Ginsberg

If I were doing my Laundry I’d wash my dirty Iran
I’d throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
the jungle,
I’d wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I’d throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
Aeon till it came out clean

Hold it Down, by Gina Myers (a very updated poem)

Under the influence of World War I Ella Wheeler Wilcox wrote this poem:

PROTEST

To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance, and lust,
The inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills;
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and childbearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.

Therefore I do protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link.
Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the mother bears no burden, save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.

Poems by James Wright

Oodgeroo Noonuccal, an australian poet, activist of Aborigenous rights – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oodgeroo_Noonuccal :

She wrote many books, beginning with We Are Going (1964), the first book to be published by an Aboriginal woman.The title poem concludes:

The scrubs are gone, the hunting and the laughter.
The eagle is gone, the emu and the kangaroo are gone from this place.
The bora ring is gone.
The corroboree is gone.
And we are going.

Watch the video – https://youtu.be/oF5PxEnkgiI</

20 May 2015

More (political) poems have been shared by peers:

Derek Walcott – A Far Cry from Africa

Sir Walter Raleigh – The Lie

Anne Carson – The Glass EssayAnn Carson reading

19 May 2015

All the names of poets and writers referred in this week’s vídeo are new to me.

The first guest, Kasim Ali,  spoke of feminist poets women, activist and linked to LGBT and left movements.

I started by exploring  about Pat Parker and read about her in Wikipedia and it was interesting to know that she took part in the Black Panther movement and LGBT rights.

It seems she was victim of domestic violence and her sister was murdered for the same reasons. The outrageous one year sentence, led her to present the case to the International Tribunal on Crimes against Women. The tragic event insprired her poem  – Womenslaughter.

His reference book «JonestownOther Madness» is based on a long poem about Jonestown massacre, a massive religious suicide of 900 americans in Guiana.

I suppose that life endurance, namely for those who have to struggle hard, like she did, explain such anger and poignant political statements in her poetry.

I was listening to a great  recording of her  in Youtube – Where will you be – while I read the poem – http://webpages.scu.edu/ftp/lgarber/courses/eng67F10texts/ParkerWhereWillYouBe.pdf

What I admire most is the passion of her beliefs and strong words.

Other poets mentioned in the video:

Audrey Lord – also a feminist and civil rights fighter, of Caribbean origin – Coal

Adrienne Rich was a feminist, anti-Vietnam war and civil rights defender, who died in 2012 and Democracy Now pays homage and passes her reading her poem «What kind of times are these»

Mari Evans – an african american poet – 4 poems

Sonia Sanchez – public reading of Poem for some women

Judy Grahn – The common women poems – Ella, in a square apron, along Highway 80

Carolyn Forché, a younger poet who coined the term «poetry of witness» – Reunion

Other poets are mentioned suche as: Jane Cooper – The faithful ; Lucille Clifton brothers

The second speaker in this week’s video is venezuelan Natasha Tiniacos who addresses the craft of poetry and embodiment. She focus on the digital era and new forms of communication in social media and how these reflect in poetry.

While navigating the Web I found this  great protest poem about a concioustious objector:

i sing of Olaf glad and big
by e. e. cummings

i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or

his wellbelovéd colonel (trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but-though an host of overjoyed
noncoms (first knocking on the head
him) do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments-
Olaf (being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds, without getting annoyed
“I will not kiss your fucking flag”

straightaway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)

but-though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation’s blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skillfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat-
Olaf (upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
“there is some shit I will not eat”

our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died

Christ (of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too

preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.

18 May 2015

The trigger for this poem was the reading of the article «A Desirable Future Haiku»

Desirable Futures

Desirable futures with technology evolution,
delightful utopia, fair distribution,
or horrible dystopia, doomed to endure?
Disruptive technology, constructive scenarios,
Tomorrow’s positive vision, seductive promise,
Timeless sci-fi dream anthology.
What seems plausible in 100 years?
Threads of future massive, real time connection,
Internet traffic of everything?
Crowdsource tsunami of solutions?
Genetic control of disease, population increase?
Cities boom, people’s world seize mobility.
Robot replacement, human fragility.
Warmer climate change? Hopes for new energy source.
Range of affordable and clean alternatives,
a driving force,
no more fossil fuel pollution,
a new narrative.
Natural resources exhaustion, habitat irrational dead end?
Suspend blindness, extend imagination.
Spread education, universal and creative endeavor,
lifelong for the finest, forever.
Visualize a cohesive, sensible future,
Solar power thesis,
solar-hydrogen vehicles, electric cars producers.
Aquaponic tower farms, healthy food,
GMOs harm.
Clean and safe streets, urban wealthy.
Global fiscal policy harmony,
Income prosperity to jobless and poor,
democratic solidarity grander.
Civil rights and citizenship upheaval.
Reveal and remove oligarchies from our sight.
End conflicts and arms deals,
Save the ocean, the coral reef, the rainforest,
Save the Earth, there’s hope for an utopian
and ubiquitous chorus existence.

Desirable Futures

15 May 2015

My tribute to B.B.King

King of the Blues

“When I sing, I play in my mind”,
said the king of the blues,
89 years in the pure way, remind,
in relentless passion, all the way,
on the road to light one’s kind.
Born on a plantation,
playing for dimes,
breaking free from damnation.
Changing times, with his mistress guitar
Lucille, that all of us heal.
World music turn,
inspiration for musicians,
blues, swing, jazz, listen.
Big concert halls
light the fire of joy,
somebody’s crying, somebody calls
the king of the blues, forever Memphis boy!

King of the Blues

One more video intervention about the «turn» by another guest (Sara Martin). I collected some of her ideas around the «turn» concept in this image:

TURN

An interesting blog on the book Structure & Surprise: Engaging Poetic Turns – https://structureandsurprise.wordpress.com/home/

Another interesting blog on Poetry . http://voltagepoetry.com/, and a citation:

«A turn is, as our name Voltage Poetry suggests, a measure of energy.   In any good poem there are various kinds of energies at work. Syntax. Rhetoric. Reversals and juxtapositions. Verdurous glooms and viewless wings. Sylvia Plath’s cold planetary light of the mind and Dean Young’s engine inside an elk’s skull on a pole, assembled and requiring only a newt’s heart and one more lightning bolt until it opens its mouth and crushes us with awe or admiration.  The leap from one synapse to another, one thought to a further thought, one level of understanding or questioning to being in the presence of the mystery.»

14 May 2015

My attempt of a sonnet with an «ironic turn» and a variant with the last line of the first version starting the second version:

1st poem – rhyme scheme: abab-abab-cdc-cdc

Walk down the docks, early in the morning,
a sunny day promise, quiet and enjoyable.
The boats line in the marina, floating,
trees growing , timid shadows agreeable.

Reconverted warehouses aligning,
host tech companies, sizable,
facing the river, night clubs glittering
architecture and design likeable.

A short promenade ends abruptly.
Crossing a heavy traffic avenue,
noisy train and cars driving, randomly.

Office buildings parade, ugly,
one more day in a journey, undue,
a civil servant’s life, in delay.

2nd poem, variant, rhyme scheme: abba-abba-cde-cde

A civil servant’s life, in delay,
one more day of a masquerade.
Park the car, walk the crusade,
a few moments of a pleasant play.

Observing the boats, marina prey,
floating, behind the palisade.
Beginning of a joyful sunny day,
soon to fade away.

Turning the corner,
to the noisy traffic avenue,
ugly office buildings parade.

Sailing the bureaucratic border,
perceived job with no value.
Journey vain-spent, surveyed.

13 May 2015

About the «turn»=«volta» in poetry the Wikipedia article defines the concept and tipifyes the «turn»:

«Volta: The “turning” point of a Petrarchan sonnet, usually occurring between the octave and the sestet. »

«A metaphor is a comparison between two things that replaces the word or name for one object with that of another.» – Examples of metaphors in poetry

An interesting post by Bruce Bond about a Poem’s Turn and analysis of «Dulce et Decorum Est»
by Wilfred Owen:

«To “turn” is to “turn away,” to release, to renew, to refuse, the way all acts of choice must refuse.  But we first need a thing to turn.   We need a continuity, a momentum, a body that “turns,” perhaps, into a new body, a moth or laurel tree, bearing the memory of the old in the mythic body of the whole.  The very metaphor of the poetic turn thus asks us to imagine two natures whose friction and dependence give a poem its transformative power.  It asks us to honor a poem’s structure and its process.  But then, we find the dissonant counterpoint of these elements in every line of a good poem.  More specifically, “the turn” suggests the heated moment of the process, the place of greatest liberty and risk, the pivot where the structural elements grow most supple as the poem turns its head to look, to flood the eye with a new direction.»

12 May 2015

The 5th week introduced a new theme «the turn of the poem». Two guests have spoken in this week’s video – Forrest Gander about the «turn» and Dora Maleck about the «meaning» of the poem:

  • the argumental turn, namely in sonnet (Petrarch and Shakespeare’s «If the dull substance»)
  • turn at the end of the line break, seen in a Marianne Moore poem «No Swan so fine»
  • perceptual turn which combines the previous – the linear, the line break turn and the conceptual – giving as exemple a poem by George Oppen «Psalm»

Regarding the meaning «what is this poem about?»,  Dora Malech refers that the poems which usually excite us are those where there’s na element «of inconsistancy, of change, of going back on one’s words».

She gives as an example of emotions inconstancy: John Donne’s poem «A Woman’s Constancy».

In Yeats poem «Sailing to Byzantium», there’s a sense of rhetorical change/inconstancy, metrical change/inconstancy and the very nature of the metaphor is a kind of inconstancy, subversion of the truth.

Other examples of inconstancy can be observed in André Breton «L’Union Libre» and Yusef Komunyakaa «Facing it», a poem of multiple truths.

Dora Malech ends her intervention as follows:

«So I would say while in our daily life we try and often fail to stand by our word, to be faithful, to be men and women of our bond, to be dutiful, to do the right thing, poetry gives us space to inhabit many words, to explore the human condition in our own lives and sensibilities, without judgment of ourselves or others. So I would encourage you to give me, your reader, not only your word, singular, but the thrilling plurality of your words, your negative capability. In a poem, you can look forward and look back. You can show the reader that they’re not alone in their stumbling, in their stuttering, in their confusion, in their uncertainty. So in your poems, go back on your words and go forth on your words and happy writing!»

Some questions were raised in the fórum of discussion regarding Yeats poem Sailing to Byzantium about the turns and transformations that occur:

I

That is no country for old men.  The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

II

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

III

O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

IV

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Sailing to Byzantium is one of the greatest poems written by Yeats in 1926 and it’s about the agony of old age, an escape to a distant, imaginary land where the poet achieves mystical union with beautiful. The poet travels to Byzantium – a flourishing civilization in the 6th century, full of treasures, ‘holy’ for it is the center of spiritual and intellectual activity -, in the poem an imaginary place of the poet’s mind. He takes a spiritual journey to the ideal world of Byzantium.

In the first stanza there are transformations in meaning, opposites of «old» and »young», of what is «alive» and «dies».

In the second stanza alterations introduced by «nor»…«but»…«and therefore» as in the forth stanza «But»…«or»…«or».

In the third stanza there’s a call for holy fire to consume the poet’s heart and soul to transform him into «artifice of eternity», in some kind of purification,

This purity of perfection suggested by the repetition of words «gold», «golden», goldsmith» continues in the forth stanza, which raises the dialectic between body/nature, renouncing earthly body and physical incarnation to become something eternal and imperishable, a mystic condition of becoming past, present and future.

«The poem’s major theme is the transformative power of art; the ability of art to express the ineffable and to step outside the boundaries of self. Some concrete details of the poem might be read autobiographically, such as the speaker’s desire to leave his country, references to himself as an old man, “a tattered coat upon a stick”, and having a heart “sick with desire. The speaker feels the desire to sail to Byzantium and metaphorically to transcend the sensual music of Ireland. He wants to transform his own consciousness and find mystical union with the golden mosaics of a medieval empire.» (analysis)

“Sailing to Byzantium” consists of four eight-line stanzas, using an iambic pentameter, with a scheme rhyme ABABABCC, two trios of alternating rhyme followed by a couplet.

11 May 2015

I’m feeding my e-book with my own poems – http://edualter.pressbooks.com/

10 May 2015

I’ve started to design a kind of scratchbook with my poems.

9 May 2015

Slam/Performance Poetry in  http://indiefeedpp.libsyn.com/

“Three Haiku” by Helen Buckingham

Pantoum poems:

September Elegies – http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/september-elegies

Parent’s Pantoum- http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/parents-pantoum

Donald Justice’s pantoum (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/250278

A Villanelle by Robert Frost «Acquainted with the night»

A.E. Stallings and it’s called “Another Lullaby for Insomniacs.” 

The ghazal is a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets and a refrain, with each line sharing the same meter. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain. The form is ancient, originating in ancient Arabic poem in Arabia long before the birth of Islam. The term Ghazal is of North African and Middle Eastern origin. Its root term in Arabic is ” gh-zl ” and is derived from the Arabian panegyric qasida.

 It is with words as it is with people, by Anthony Madrid

It is with words as it is with people: Actual beauty is rare.
We call things beautiful, not as such, but because of what they mean.

Because we commonly attribute beauty to whatever does us a favor,
We are reduced to puzzled despair whenever actual beauty says no.

Indeed, our calling a thing beautiful almost means it is not.
For how can we know it is beautiful until it betrays us?

A sage once said “The trouble with these great philosophers
Is their only way of doing honor to an idea is to say the idea is true.”

It is the same with words as it is with people: Actual beauty is rare.
Humiliated, we are no longer willing to call the beautiful beautiful . . .

Madrid is reading his poetry to a roomful of unearthed cultural relics.
He compares the white hair on their heads | to the flag that signals surrender.

 “Late Ghazal” by Adrienne Rich (analysis)

Top 10 ghazals of all times – http://indiaopines.com/top-10-ghazals-time/

Billy Collins «Sonnet»

Translation of russian poets Kharms and Khlebnikov:

Kharms http://www.stihi.ru/avtor/izvaryag&book=29#29

Khlebnikov http://www.stihi.ru/avtor/izvaryag&book=27#27

8 May 2015

This poem borrowed the rhyme scheme of Whitman’s «O Captain! My Captain» – AABCDEFE – GGHIJEKE – LLMNOEPE

POETS

Poets remain alive in our hearts and feelings,
Castles of dreams, colourful rainbow meanings,
Starved souls of poignant vision,
Compose secret harmonies of sounds and images,
Surprise with sonnets, villanelles, lyrics.
Music and rhythm flood imagination,
Sometimes rawness and insolence happens,
Genuine poetry, through the ages, in celebration.

Like the polar star, poetry guides our lives
Conveys passion, leads to joy and strives,
Glory or doom, pleasure or gloom,
Senses dance in gentle echoes,
Rough verse, torrent yell,
Swirl of feelings, anguish sensation.
Words don’t come easy, move slow.
Disclosure of a flash of inspiration.

Choice of style, scheme of rhyme
Responds to soul mood, rolling time,
Messages of neutral or social concern,
Free to spin truth and lies,
Poets mix art and craft,
Evoke fictions, without restriction,
Sweet and sour potions conceal,
Words, words, words of pure creation.

Poets

Another poem produced with the rhyme scheme: AABA-BBCB-CCDC-DDDD

YOUTH

Seeking for a job? Unemployed.
Generation lost, null and void,
Prisoners’ damnation, dark sensation.
Sea of weariness, hope mutilation.
Days go by, growing hesitation,
Months go by, no expectations,
Silent generation, texting in mobiles,
Disposable, wasted youth nation.
Precariat existence, unfit profile,
Suspended lives, going global,
Entrenched economy, entrapped future.
No available jobs, labour immobile.
Success prophecies’s producers,
Dream illusions, for sale creatures,
Coming destiny adventures,
Grim featured, postponed future.

YOUTH

CAN SLAM POETRY MATTER?

American Poetry Museum – http://americanpoetrymuseum.org/beatstotherhyme/

Performing the academy – slam poetry

Some poems shared by peers:

Alfred, Lord Tennyson crossing the bar – https://youtu.be/-kHKn2GsMJU

Annabel lee, by Edgar Allen Poe – https://youtu.be/0voJDAxPeLI

A propósito de slogans com impacto na publicidade:

Anúncios portugueses antigos –https://youtu.be/dv6gzb6pJN8?list=PL15666AABADCF9BE1

 7 May 2015

Magazine 291 was an arts and literary magazine that was published from 1915 to 1916 in New York City. It was created and published by a group of four individuals: photographer/modern art promoter Alfred Stieglitz, artist Marius de Zayas, art collector/socialite/poet Agnes Ernest Meyer and photographer/critic/arts patron Paul Haviland.

The magazine published original art work, essays, poems and commentaries by Francis Picabia, John Marin, Max Jacob, Georges Ribemont-Dessaignes, de Zayas, Stieglitz and other avant-garde artists and writers of the time, and it is credited with being the publication that introduced visual poetry to the United States. (Wikipedia)

These examples still feel avant-garde:

marius zayas_femme

marius zayas_poem

Graphic art of Kenneth Patchen, the controversial 20th century poet-painter who pioneered the anti-novel, concrete poetry, poetry-jazz, and picture-poems – http://www.rochester.edu/news/photos/patchen/

kenneth patchen art-poem

Brazilian Concrete Poetry – http://www.antoniomiranda.com.br/poesia_visual/pilot_plan_for_concrete_poetry.HTML

Décio Pignatari

decio pignatari femme

Klaus Peter Dencker Art Poetry

klaus peter dencker art poetry

6 May 2015

Wikipedia article on Poetry forms is quite comprehensive.

Some common metrical patterns, with notable examples of poets and poems who use them, include:

The most common metrical feet in English are:

  • iamb – one unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable (e.g. describe, Include, retract)
  • trochee – one stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable (e.g. picture, flower)
  • dactyl – one stressed syllable followed by two unstressed syllables (e.g.annotate an-no-tate)
  • anapest – two unstressed syllables followed by one stressed syllable (e.g. comprehend com-pre-hend)
  • spondee – two stressed syllables together (e.g. enough)
  • pyrrhic – two unstressed syllables together (rare, usually used to end dactylic hexameter)

A TED ED lesson about Shakespeare pentameter:

Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening, by  Robert Frost (1874–1963)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost reads his poem – https://youtu.be/hfOxdZfo0gs
In the same meter is written the famous poem of William Blake «The Tyger» – analysis
william Blake The_Tyger_BM_a_1794

A peer shared a video with Prof. David Crystal highlighting the diferences of 16th century english pronunciation in Shakespeare’s plays –https://youtu.be/gPlpphT7n9s

A beautiful poem «SONNET» by Elizabeth Bishop, shared by another peer:

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.

Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody;
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep

To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

«Vilanelle», with a good example of the beautiful poem by Dylan Thomas, found in Wikipedia:

«The villanelle consists of five stanzas of three lines (tercets) followed by a single stanza of four lines (a quatrain) for a total of nineteen lines. It is structured by two repeating rhymes and two refrains: the first line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the second and fourth stanzas, and the third line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the third and fifth stanzas. The rhyme-and-refrain pattern of the villanelle can be schematized as A1bA2 abA1 abA2 abA1 abA2 abA1A2 where letters (“a” and “b”) indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a refrain (“A”), and superscript numerals (1 and 2) indicate Refrain 1 and Refrain 2.

The pattern is below set against “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas:

Do not go gentle into that good night, Refrain 1 (A1)
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Line 2 (b)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Refrain 2 (A2)
Because their words had forked no lightning they Line 4 (a)
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Line 5 (b)
Do not go gentle into that good night. Refrain 1 (A1)
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Line 7 (a)
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Line 8 (b)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Refrain 2 (A2)
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, Line 10 (a)
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Line 11 (b)
Do not go gentle into that good night. Refrain 1 (A1)
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Line 13 (a)
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Line 14 (b)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Refrain 2 (A2)
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Line 16 (a)
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Line 17 (b)
Do not go gentle into that good night. Refrain 1 (A1)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Refrain 2 (A2)

The villanelle has no established meter, although most 19th-century villanelles have used trimeter or tetrameter and most 20th-century villanelles have used pentameter. Slight alteration of the refrain line is 3permissible.»

5 May 2015

Week 4 is dedicated to Form and Meter and the three guests of the vídeo spoke about «pantoum», «generative distraction» and «meter».

Three poems were produced to experiment «pantoum» and «sonnet»

ABUSE

(Pantoum)

1Violence against women, abuse
2One in three across Europe,
3Physical, sexual, psychological, you choose
4Intimate partner, emotional scope.

2One in three across Europe,
5Women’s experiences of abuse,
4Intimate partner, emotional scope
6Sexual violence since youth.

5Women’s experiences of abuse,
7One in twenty raped,
6Sexual violence since youth,
8Human rights violated.

7One in twenty raped,
9It’s no excuse, it’s no excuse,
8Human rights violated,
1Violence against women, abuse.

Villanelle

Violence against women, abuse
Physical, sexual, psychological, you choose
Wolves, beasts, monsters, pushers,

Purple bruises, no makeup covers,
Fear, forgiveness, victim lovers,
Violence against women, abuse
Under pressure, under shame,
Who’s to blame? It’s a wild game.
Wolves, beasts, monsters, pushers,

Hover on shrivels of pain, under fire
Used objects, in chain, of lust and desire,
Violence against women, abuse
Tough and strong hurt anyone,
Women, children, wife and son,
Wolves, beasts, monsters, pushers,

Pray and feast on sorrow unleashed,
Violence against women, abuse
Wolves, beasts, monsters, pushers.

Children Poverty
(Sonnet)

Children experience poverty
with their hands, minds and hearts,
all their suffering everlasts,
adverse destiny, life robbery.
What chances to thrive? Lottery?
Missing existence, cruel darts,
Calling for persistence, change starts,
poorness cycle, again, misery.
Children, excluded and vulnerable,
Subdued by Illiteracy and inequality
Listen, barriers are not invincible!
Wellbeing pursued, aiming durable
No more children reduced to poverty,
Hope and promises made possible.

Variant

Children experience poverty
with their hands, minds and hearts,
all their suffering everlasts,
adverse destiny, life robbery.

What chances to survive and thrive?
Global transformation and assistance,
missing existence, calling for persistence,
strongly believe and stay alive.

Children living in poverty,
excluded and vulnerable,
poorness cycle is no novelty.

Children wellbeing pursued,
Human capability approach,
Hope and promises renewed.

Seasons from my balcony

(Sonnet)

From my balcony I see the sea,
in Winter, trees undress,
my chest and heart caress,
a clear view, branches free.
From my balcony I see the trees,
in Spring, green leaves appear,
another season, adieu, rolling year,
thoughts, phantasy weaves.
From my balcony I see the ocean,
in Summer, the beach sands shine,
the crowd finds it divine, a wild commotion.
From my balcony I see the whirlwind leaves,
In autumn, they fall yellow on the green grass,
Blackbirds the ground peck for worms, as thieves.

4 May 2015

One more visual poem of mine

drean_poem

A blog of a visual poet who works with newspapers – http://newspaperblackout.com/about and its author, Austin Kleon, explaining his writing process – https://youtu.be/ipAXNboiwC4

austin kleon visual poem out of newspaper

Another visual poem composed in PixTeller

Light visual poem

A poem shared by a peer, with a resonance to the late Baltimore riots, and about the destiny of black children – http://www.consequencemagazine.org/poetry-contest/birthmark/

Archibald Macleish, na american poet mentioned by one peer, searching a few poems:

Ars Poetica

Invocation to the Social Muse

Definition of Frontiers

E.E. Cummings poems in – http://hellopoetry.com/e-e-cummings/

 I carry your heart, read by E.E.Cummings

About Concrete Poetry – http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/brief-guide-concrete-poetry

David Wagoner – A Girl playing in a Sandbox

3 May 2015

One more visual poem composed by me

bloodshed_poem

Revista de literatura – O Poema em Prosa (UA, 2005) – http://www2.dlc.ua.pt/classicos/formabreve02.pdf
Links shared by a peer on contemporary prose poems:

A Prezi shared by a peer on «Graphical Elements of Poetry».

An interesting cross art -poetry intersection proposal for students «Found Art Poetry»

How to make a visual poem, a video of Getty Museum – https://youtu.be/wWpMB6gmBYA

A good idea for an art journal – https://youtu.be/aoP59XlQ4nE

This week-end challenge to read poetry. I selected the following poems, the frst one, by Auden, a lament for the dead, tragedy of human life, a classic elegy with informal everyday life language:

Funeral Blues, by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

And another poem, by Poe, about departure of a lover, where the juxtaposed scenes contrast in a number of ways, as the poem moves from a calm, though solemn, farewell to a more passionate second half. Whereas the first stanza features a thoughtful agreement, the seashore scene contains expletives such as “O God!” and anguished exclamations along with despairing rhetorical questions to reflect the torment in the narrator’s soul. (analysis)

A Dream Within A Dream, by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow–
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A ballad with three quatrains, by Byron, reflecting on the restlessness of youth and excesses of a merry lifestyle and the need to move to a quiter one. (analysis)

We’ll Go No More A-Roving, by Lord Byron

So, we’ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

One stanza with eleven lines, by Whitman, singing the working class and its crafts, with the musicallity and rythm of free verse. The tone of the poem is joyful, whimsical, and hopeful. Whitman celebrates in the common American worker. (analysis)

I Hear America Singing, by Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe
and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off
work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand
singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as
he stands,

The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning,
or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or
of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young
fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

1 May 2015

Once more, I reckon that the original versions are much better than the translations. I found this website with the original poem of Pablo Neruda and respective translation and a video with poem «Ausencia», beautifully sung by a folk music group – http://www.links2love.com/poetry_40.htm

Latin american spanish is much smoother than standard spanish, which makes the poems even more musical.

Neruda reading his poem «Poesia» – https://youtu.be/AL6Xkv0GhRg

One of the most famous love poems is Poem 20 – Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche – and there are inumerous versions in Youtube – https://youtu.be/eTlrnE-oh4c . An english version – https://youtu.be/9wDOioi5Jt8

An another beautiful poem, alternating english and spanish – Me gustas quando callas – https://youtu.be/UxoOWmjPLXk

Victor Jara sings «Me gustas quando callas» – https://youtu.be/3XxtNFZDhN4

Ute Lemper sings Neruda – https://youtu.be/vfeZ0LqkV_Y

A reading-performance by Steve McCafferry

Gertrude Stein was an american avant-garde artist and maintained her Paris salon with weekly gatherings of modern intellectuals and painters of the beginning of 20th century.

«The gatherings in the Stein home “brought together confluences of talent and thinking that would help define modernism in literature and art”. Dedicated attendees included Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis, Ezra Pound, Gavin Williamson, Thornton Wilder, Sherwood Anderson, Francis Cyril Rose, René Crevel, Élisabeth de Gramont, Francis Picabia, Claribel Cone, Mildred Aldrich, Carl Van Vechten and Henri Matisse.» (Wikipedia)

Some of her Tender Buttons Poems are «prose poems»:

A CHAIR.

A widow in a wise veil and more garments shows that shadows are even. It addresses no more, it shadows the stage and learning. A regular arrangement, the severest and the most preserved is that which has the arrangement not more than always authorised.

A suitable establishment, well housed, practical, patient and staring, a suitable bedding, very suitable and not more particularly than complaining, anything suitable is so necessary.

A fact is that when the direction is just like that, no more, longer, sudden and at the same time not any sofa, the main action is that without a blaming there is no custody.

Practice measurement, practice the sign that means that really means a necessary betrayal, in showing that there is wearing.

Hope, what is a spectacle, a spectacle is the resemblance between the circular side place and nothing else, nothing else.

To choose it is ended, it is actual and more than that it has it certainly has the same treat, and a seat all that is practiced and more easily much more easily ordinarily.

Pick a barn, a whole barn, and bend more slender accents than have ever been necessary, shine in the darkness necessarily. Actually not aching, actually not aching, a stubborn bloom is so artificial and even more than that, it is a spectacle, it is a binding accident, it is animosity and accentuation.

If the chance to dirty diminishing is necessary, if it is why is there no complexion, why is there no rubbing, why is there no special protection.

From Tender Buttons (1914) by Gertrude Stein.

«These stream-of-consciousness experiments, rhythmical essays or “portraits”, were designed to evoke “the excitingness of pure being” and can be seen as literature’s answer to Cubism, plasticity, and collage. Many of the experimental works such as Tender Buttons have since been interpreted by critics as a feminist reworking of patriarchal language. These works were well received by avant-garde critics but did not initially achieve mainstream success. Despite Stein’s work on automatic writing with William James, she did not see her work as automatic, but as an ‘excess of consciousness’.» (Wikipedia)

30 April 2015

Poem «Crushed», evoking the tragedy of Nepal quake

CRUSHED

Heartbreaking desperate desolation,
thousands of deaths in vain, millions affected,
poor nation neglected,
crying souls in much pain.
Earthquake  unexpected,
historic monuments shattered,
landslide scale of devastation again.
People trapped, debris all over,
rescue children and men and women,
get relief from this wreckage,
remove barriers,  pass on the message,
help is needed, restore the heritage!

2nd variant (no lines)

CRUSHED by nature, waiting for salvation. What we see is total annihilation. Poor nation in pain, destroyed, crying souls, raising begging bowls. Heritage shattered, monuments in debris. I wonder how to control damages of such degree? Hold on determination to gather efforts and rescue people of this annihilation. A chain of solidarity to raise, relief to praise.

Prose poems of french pioneers:

Baudelaire l'etranger

Mallarme la pipe

Mallarmé

Rimbaud (poem excerpt)

Rimbaud nuit en enfer

Use of page to display the poems:

e.e.cummings poem

29 April 2015

Publicação da Universidade de Aveiro sobre o poema em prosa – http://www2.dlc.ua.pt/classicos/formabreve02.pdf

A poem was submitted for Week 3 assignment, two versions: one with lines and another with no lines.

 Macau remembrance
Do you remember the shining shop neon signs,
the colourful spirals hanging over hairdressers’ doors,
the pawn shops bat signs?

Do you remember the streets fuss and noise,
the crazy traffic the town pours,
crowded with people, all day long?

Do you remember the street names signs,
both in portuguese and chinese language,
tradition kept, over time vanquished?

Do you remember the Pearl River delta
brown water smooth lines
Junk boats sailing in shelter?

Do you remember the hot wet weather,
the sound of mahjong tiles,
wander about the streets and alleys?

Do you remember the Taoist temples,
the burning incense sticks for blessings,
A-Ma guarded by stone lions,
roof ridges with green glazed tiles,
the sound of cymbals,
the far away bridges?

Do you remember St. Paul’s ruins,
an ancient façade of a church on fire,
Macau acropolis desire?

Do you remember the typhoon warnings,
the dark sky and strong winds surging,
the plastic shoes,
the heavy warm rain coming?

Do you remember Cheoc Van beach
Hac Sa dark sands, hot algae waters
the custard tarts in Coloane,
within silent reach?

Forget the triads, the gambling,
the smuggling and prostitution,
land of casinos and fortune,
this is capitalist evolution!

2nd variant (no lines)

Macau remembrance

Do you remember the shining shop neon signs, the colourful spirals hanging over hairdressers’ doors, the pawn shops bat signs? The streets fuss and noise, the crazy traffic town pours, crowded with people, all day long. The street names signs, both in portuguese and chinese language, tradition kept, over time vanquished. The Pearl River delta with brown water smooth lines, Junk boats sailing in shelter. The sound of mahjong tiles, wandering about the streets and alleys. The Taoist temples, the burning of incense. A-Ma guarded by stone lions, green glazed tiles in roof ridges, the sound of cymbals, the far away bridges. St. Paul’s ruins, an ancient façade of a church on fire, Macau acropolis desire. The typhoon warnings, the dark sky and strong winds surging, the plastic shoes, the heavy warm rain coming. Cheoc Van beach, Hac Sa dark sands, hot algae waters, the custard tarts in Coloane, within silent reach.
Forget the triads, the gambling, the smuggling and prostitution, land of casinos and fortune, this is capitalist evolution!

Obs: Macau is a small territory located in south east Asia (about 70 Km from Hong Kong), which remained under portuguese administration till 1999, two years after Hong Kong handover to China.

The portuguese landed in  Macau by 1513 and established an agreement with the chinese in 1557 to use the territory as a trade route. Macau is a world center of gambling and Las Vegas promoters in the last decade made it more profitable than ever.

Macau has preserved and invested in the portuguese heritage that makes it so special. Many old buildings, bilingual street signs, portuguese cobblestone paving the streets and squares, catholic churches, fortresses…

Macau tour – https://youtu.be/VcHpih87Aec

My visual poem:

Poem tears

28 April 2015

The 3rd week started anf focus on – The Line and the Page – with three guests who addressed the «prose poem», «poetic line» and «the page».

Mary Hickman speaks of the prose poem and differences with free verse, the parallelism in prose poem and the line brakes taken away, resulting that «the line is no longer the unit of breath». The sentence becomes the unit of breath. «So the line break which creates so much of the tension and drama and pausing… of free verse poem is gone». The prose poem is «highly sound oriented». The prose poem has diction and narrative. The prose poem is not a story or essay, it’s more of a song registration, a «collection of tensions and struggles that happen in the syntax and tone». The stanza is now the sentences, with «different kinds of architectures», mixing «domains of thought, logic, imagination». The prose poem is different from «prose which is often moving on, making connections, smoothly going the course towards a goal.» Prose poem places things alongside each other, creating juxtaposition, compression, «kind of disparate sentences or ideas or sensations that are placed together». There is energy, surprise, interruption, eruption.

Examples of prose poems:

Get Drunk, by Baudelaire

Royalty, by Arthur Rimbaud

The Young Son, by Ashberry

Hysteria, by T. S. Eliot

Ski Sauvage, by Reina Maria Rodriguez (Cuba)

Josely Vianna Baptista (BR)

I love karate, by Nick Twemlow

Gillian Conole speaks about the poem in the page, the way one displays words on the page and its impact. She gives the example of Jack Kerouac typing in a scroll of paper, as a continuum flow of language and imagery, of narrative and sound. The scroll was used in ancient times – parchment scroll, chinese scroll…

The transition from the manipulation and writing on paper to digital, writing on the screen, also impacts on the production of writing.

Charles Olson’s Projective Verse manifesto is mentioned:

«Composition by field opposes the traditional method of poetic composition based on received form and measure. Olson sees the challenge of the transference of poetic energy from source to poem to reader, and the way in which that energy shifts at each juncture, as particularly of concern to poets who engage in composition by field, because the poet is no longer relying on a received structure as a propulsive force.

…Olson argues against a lazy reliance on simile and description, which can drain a poem of energy, and proposes that syntax be shaped by sound rather than sense, with nuances of breath and motion to be conveyed to the reader through typographical means.

In conclusion, Olson suggests a movement he calls “objectism,” which he defines as “the getting rid of the lyrical interference of the individual as ego, of the “subject” and his soul [. . .] For man is himself an object.” »

Example of Olson‘s poem The Kingfishers:

Olson_Kingfishers

Stéphane Mallarmé’s «A Throw of Dice» is given as example of the display of the poem in two pages:

mallarme-coup-de-des

Joanne Kyger reads her «Lunch Poems» – http://www.uctv.tv/shows/Lunch-Poems-Joanne-Kyger-11962

Kyger’s «Destruction»

Kyger_destruction

Kyger’s «To live in this world again»

Kyger_to live in this wrold again

Marvin Bell speaks about the poetic line.

I’ve collected my short poems in an ebook, which I’ll complete along this MOOC

http://edualter.pressbooks.com/

27 April 2015

A contemporary and eccentric NY poet was mentioned – Kenneth Goldsmith

▶ No Such Thing as Writer’s Block – https://youtu.be/9Box0FF9H0Q

 NY School of Poetry – https://youtu.be/UE8BKWRzATo 

A new poem submitted, celebrating the 25 April – Carnation Revolution in Portugal.

Celebration

Celebrate freedom, celebrate democracy,
this is the day of free men, free thinkers,
forty eight years of autocracy and hypocrisy,
a  long time odyssey, a people’s prophesy.

Spring dashing hopes, April doors opened,
a communion spirit spread, participation exploded.
In the first of May a crowd wave the streets invaded.
Utopian dreams people revealed.
Economic prosperity, social welfare, healthcare…
Peace, bread, housing, basic rights rising.

Great expectations, illusive mirage,
unfortunate regression,
hopes and dreams sabotage,
what a great deception!
The poet sang, a beautiful dream ended,
Democracy suspended.
Hold again your hands, stand for your rights!
Forever extended.

Celebration

26 April 2015

Another poetry online course was suggested by a peer – ModPo, promoted by the University of Pennsilvania

5 Poems of William Carlos Williams – https://youtu.be/BpN8YYdTIrw

Early 20th century poetry – https://www.youtube.com/user/PoemsBeingReadALOUD/videos

25 April 2015

Celebration of the Revolution Day in Portugal

Remembering Ary dos Santos and his long, long poem The doors that April opened

24 April 2015

I’ve tried 3 variations of a Poem on PEACE, based on a cloud of words related to peace and war

PEACE

Perpetual war, endless sorrow,
warlords profit,
people bear the thorns.
Call for Peace
to appease the losses.
We deplore this state of war,
we abhore the carnage,
the anguish and bitterness.
Bring on serenity and armistice.

 2nd variant

Warlords hold us hostage
of endless war and carnage,
they receive the profit and rewards,
the victims implore
to end this darkness.
Award us Peace
release us from unrest
cease this perpetual caprice.

3rd variant

Dream for serenity and Peace,
Cease this endless war,
We implore.
Streets on fire, museums destroyed,
Is the world paranoid?
Have these fanatics turned into beasts?
Make this torment and hatred cease.
There must be a final solution for Peace!

 
PEACE_WAR_RHYMES_

PEACE (1)

Peace (2)

The discussion about the distinctions between prose, poem and line a collection of articles on the theme

A Broken Thing: Poets on the Line (selections)

«The Line as Fetish and Fascist Reliquary
Gabriel Gudding

The line is not a feature of poetry.
The line is basically a disciplinary fiction, a fantasy of technique, an imaginary feature upon which to render pronouncements and leverage arbitrary distinctions for the purposes of acquiring or wielding social and disciplinary power.
The history of the line, as something ostensibly worth making distinctions about, is the history of poetry both as a fetishized cultural commodity and, since the modernist moment, as part of a broader system of belief that has helped lead to the disenchantment of everyday cultural life in an advanced, industrial world. This history of the line, then, is, in its latest iteration, in great part a holdover from the history of the right-wing modernist fetish of form, which marked the removal of poetry fully from the office of humility…»

In my search for Poetry Elements I found this satiric view in a Periodic Table of Poetic Elements

periodictableofpoeticelements

A collection of teacher resources on poetry – http://www.pyramidreading.com/unit-9.php

23 April 2015

A useful suggestion made in Piazza forum:

«One thing I noticed when I was browsing through people’s sound clouds is that there was a lot of focus on end rhyme.  I saw quite a bit of gerund rhyming (“ing”–casting, waxing, relaxing, etc.) as well as other rhyming suffixes like “er” (wider, slider, etc.).

My suggestion is to break out of this idea of focusing on the sounds at the ends of words and consider assonance/vowel sounds (i.e. “wonder” –> “underneath” –> “early” –> “curled” –> “skirted”) or alliteration & other consonant sounds (i.e. take –> bike –> licked –> cricket –> create –> protect). This can open up a whole world of words (see what I did there? ;))»

So I tried a variation of «Lisbon poem»Lisbon_rhymes

22 April 2015

A poem about Lisbon and a diagram of words associated

Lisbon

From the window I gaze
the expanding river that my hometown delivers.
The blue water flow amazes,
runs and floods in the ocean breeze.
Along the Marginal and the palm trees,
the stream glows and delays.
In front of the fortress, the surfers,
who await, as lying ducks, for the waves,
watch the big cruises passing by.
Bugio lighthouse signals Lisbon entrance,
Amazing view, witnessed with pleasance.

Lisbon_diagram

Lisbon (1)

21 April 2015

I’ve watched the video for this week with three more guests:

Mary Jo Bang talks about sound and music in poetry and selected Ginsberg’s Howl, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass and a sonnet by Gerard Manley Hopkins (a jesuit priest) to illustrate the music of poems. The expressive weight of sound in Howl, «kind of push of speech of the ongoing sentence», using repetition, internal rhymes, assonance, lots of sounds. The II part of Leaves of Grass uses a kind of oracular voice, trying to include everything in the poem, uses «anaphora, where the beginning of a line repeats either a word or a phrase: «you shall possess…you shall no longer…you shall not look…» like in a prayer, a biblical and preacher sound.

Carol Light explains how is her process of writing poetry, creating a nest of words – lists that pop up in her mind – and how she tries to associate sound, minding no narrative or story. She plays with the words, creating a cascade of sounds, echoes, rhymes.

Carl Philips chooses Stephanie Marlis «Chinese Bowls» and «Dusting» by Rita Dove. The first poem looks messy, not neat, the lines are all different lines,  moving from domestic scene to memory’s of someone else’s apartment, relating to animals of a zoo, kind of random, trying to find harmony in things that have no harmony. The second poem «Dusting» is a five irregular stanza about a current of blurred  thoughts and memories, with rhymes: day, sight, patient, rage, grain, light, gray, life.

I’ve taken the idea of «cloud of words» of Carol Light and made a diagram of words to convey a message related to the waves of refugees of war from Africa and the Middle-East that keep on dying in the Mediterranean:

sea_of_death__word_diagram

Sea of death

If only Europe could fulfill the dream,
as beam of light and golden syrup,
refugees of war who scream,
drowning in the Mediterranean sea,
in a grave of agony and insanity.

If only Europe wouldn’t be so indifferent,
to the cry of anguish and depths of despair,
and would care, for a destiny less unfair.
More solidarity could ease the pain
and save the most lonesome and solitaire.

Sea of death poster.jpg

20 April 2015

My poem «Accidental Poet» was commented by some peers who suggested some alterations in a positive sense.

The second week of the course started and I’ve submitted another poem

Lunchtime

Red bunker, noisy canteen,
Pensioners flock,
Boring unlikely scene,
People eat and talk.

Outside, spring is bright,
Lunchtime is gone,
Brief moments for a bite,
No time to dream or yawn.

Get back to office,
Register your presence,
Is there any justice
For such an obsolescence?

Lunch

19 April 2015

A new referrence to the website Language is Virus, with an article on «cut-up» technique http://www.languageisavirus.com/cutupmachine.html#.VTOBzRuBH4h

My experience in the «cut-up machine»:

Entering the first lines of the poem «Collage» by Carlos Oliveira (translation)

Words,
could they be only myths
like the myrtle
of the dead?

The result from the «cut-up machine» is a chaotic one:

myths like the myrtle the of myths like be they the only

17 April 2015

A blog of Art Books was shared – http://www.bookartiste.blogspot.pt/?view=classic and I decided to search for more images of craft books

accordion-book book-art-00b427affa837e88 Hellman_USE yvettenewpng

An article «Poetic Technique: Chance Operations» addressing automatic writing, Dada/Surrealism and computer poetry generators

Poem generator – http://thinkzone.wlonk.com/PoemGen/PoemGen.htm

Poetry generator – http://www.languageisavirus.com/automatic_poetry_generator.html

A peer has summarized well the messages that the three guest writers in this week’s video conveyed:

Robert Hass’ lecture:   I think when Haas talks about “objective”, he is trying to inspire us to observe more deeply so we can bring a richness of imagery to our poetry.  He is asking us to open ourselves up and employ all of our senses to observation, doing this will give us a mass of objective details and associations that we can bring them into what we are writing and it will make our writing better.  

Kate Greenstreet’s lecture:

Kate shows us a technique of assembling fragments into a database and using them in our poems. After the class last year, I started accumulating my own Epic fragments and began going to my Epic to find matched fragment pairs for some poems I was writing.  What I discovered by doing this was that it gave my poetry a younger, more contemporary sound that I liked. It also let the spaces between my words speak louder.  I think what Greenstreet means by mining out Epic fragments that “attract” is that she has found another useful device to “tell the truth but tell it slant” (in the words of Emily Dickinson). 

Lia Purpura’s lecture:

I think that the purpose of a daybook is to record the facts of daily living, while a writer’s notebook tells you how you feel today in the presence of the fact that you are alive, it’s subjective, sometimes  associative, and simply a place to collect treasures of thought that come your way during the day.  I keep a notebook where  I muddle facts and fiction together, my notebooks are a place where I collect good sounding words, fragments of conversation that strike my fancy, interesting thoughts, and miscellaneous facts so they can find me when I need them.  When Thoreau wrote Walden, he combined both the facts and how he felt about them in the same book, so it can be done that way and be good writing.     

16 April 2015

A peer shared another app to generate poem lines: https://web.njit.edu/~ronkowit/poetsonline/generator.html

A few more poems I’ve composed:

Accidental poet
I’m an accidental poet,
filtering emotions,
images
and
fragments of dreams.
Digging for the right sound,
the perfect rhythm…
Rambling in my thoughts,
stumbling on punctuation,
is all this void of significance?

Accidental Poet (2)

 

Making sense of life
Trapped in a bored existence?
In a stagnated country,
ambiguous emotions
surround me.
Feeling like a junky?
Keep up the resistance
like waves in oceans
and sound roots of a tree.

Mourn the lost poet
Mourn the lost poet
Respect his memory
For a brief moment
Remind his glory.

Enjoy the great art
Emotional exploration
The craft of the bard
Deep inner vibration.

Fluid attraction of words
Music collage of sounds
Mind no bounds or girds
Breed spring surrounds.

Let your heart tremble
Lead yourself to ecstasy
What do words resemble?
Is it chance or telepathy?

mourn the Poet

Searching for portuguese poems translated into english I found this website – http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/home -, which includes many translations from many countries.

Look for your country – http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/collection/country_submenu

I was very pleased to see that many portuguese great poets were represented in this website:

http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/country/item/11/Portugal

20th century poets:

Eugénio de Andrade – Against Obscurity

Ruy Belo  – On the Hill of this Moment

Mário Cesariny  – Poem

Sophia Mello Breyner  – Transparency

Alexandre O’Neill  – Standing at fearful attention

Fernando Pessoa  – I have in me like a haze

António Ramos Rosa – Trees

Herberto Helder (just died last month) – Fountain

16th century epic poet:

Camões  – My errors, cruel fortune and ardent love

15 April 2015

In the interactions and discussions a link for an article in NYT was shared:

What’s lost when handwritting fades

A new concept was shared: plosives –  a consonant in which the vocal tract is blocked so that all airflow ceases.

HAIKU – very short form of Japanese poetry. The essence of haiku is “cutting” (kiru). This is often represented by the juxtaposition of two images or ideas and a kireji (“cutting word”) between them, a kind of verbal punctuation mark which signals the moment of separation and colors the manner in which the juxtaposed elements are related.(Wikipedia)

The first haiku written in English was by Ezra Pound, published in 1913. During the Imagist period, a big number of mainstream poets, including Pound, wrote what they called hokku, usually in a five-six-four syllable pattern.

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

(Ezra Pound)

And the days are not full enough

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

Other poems by Ezra Pound: A Girl; An Immorality

A traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count. Often focusing on images from nature, haiku emphasizes simplicity, intensity, and directness of expression.

Haiku began in thirteenth-century Japan as the opening phrase of renga, an oral poem, generally 100 stanzas long, which was also composed syllabically. The much shorter haiku broke away from renga in the sixteenth-century, and was mastered a century later by Matsuo Basho, who wrote this classic haiku:

An old pond!
A frog jumps in—
the sound of water.

(in http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetic-form-haiku)

English translation of portuguese poems – http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/collection/poem_submenu_language/Portuguese

Fernando Pessoa example – http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poet/item/7051

An APP to generate text was shared – N+7 Machinehttp://www.spoonbill.org/n+7/

Experimenting this app, here is the result from my input N+O, generating weird combinations:

N+0

destiny of light
motherly dust
extreme dark eyes
delayed shadow
equilibrium of blue mornings
solitary brise
and sunset reflection
bridges meeting water

N+1

destroyer of lighter
motherly dustbin
extremist darkie eyeballs
delayed shaft
equinox of bluebell morons
solitary brise
and sunshade reflector
bridgeheads megalith watercourse

N+2

destruction of lighthouse
motherly dustcart
extremity darkness eyebrows
delayed shag
equipment of blueberry morsels
solitary brise
and sunshine reflex
bridles megalomaniac waterfall

N+3

detachment of lighting
motherly duster
extrovert darkroom eyefuls
delayed shake
equity of bluebird mortals
solitary brise
and suntan reform
briefs megaphone waterfront

N+4

detail of lightning
motherly dustman
extrusion darling eyelashes
delayed shaker
equivalent of bluebottle mortalities
solitary brise
and suntrap reformer
briefcases megaton waterline

N+5

detainee of lightship
motherly dustpan
eye darn eyelets
delayed shake-up
era of blueprint mortars
solitary brise
and sup reformist
briefings melancholic watermark

N+6

detective of lightweight
motherly dustsheet
eyeball dart eyelids
delayed shallot
eraser of bluestocking mortarboards
solitary brise
and superintendent refrain
briers melee watermelon

N+7

detector of light-year
motherly dust-up
eyebrow dartboard eye-openers
delayed shallow
erasure of bluff mortgages
solitary brise
and superior refreshment
brigs melodrama waterproof

N+8

detention of likelihood
motherly duty
eyeful dash eyepieces
delayed sham
erection of blunder morticians
solitary brise
and superlative refrigerator
brigades melody watershed

N+9

detergent of likeness
motherly duvet
eyelash dashboard eyesores
delayed shamble
erosion of blur mortises
solitary brise
and superman refuge
brigadiers melon waterspout

N+10

determinant of lilac
motherly dwarf
eyelet data eyewashes
delayed shame
errand of blush mortuaries
solitary brise
and supermarket refugee
brigands melt waterway

N+11

determination of lilt
motherly dweller
eyelid database eyewitnesses
delayed shampoo
error of bluster mosaics
solitary brise
and superpower refund
brights member waterwheel

N+12

determiner of lily
motherly dwelling
eye-opener date eyries
delayed shamrock
escalator of boa mosques
solitary brise
and superstar refusal
brims membership watt

N+13

deterrent of limb
motherly dye
eyepiece daub fables
delayed shandy
escalope of boar mosquitos
solitary brise
and superstition refuse
brimstones membrane wattage

N+14

detonation of limber
motherly dyer
eyesore daughter fabrics
delayed shank
escapade of board mosses
solitary brise
and superstructure regale
briquettes memento wattle

N+15

detonator of lime
motherly dyke
eyewash daughter-in-law fabrications
delayed shanty
escape of boarder motels
solitary brise
and supervision regard
bristles memo wave

Generated: 2015-04-15 10:43:44 – Dictionary: large – Version: 0.9g (21/10/10)

MY POEMS’ TRIALS

Intimacy of words

Whisper a loud poem
and turn it into a ballad,
as fragments of mind
rescuing thoughts.

There’s an inner voice
(or is it a psyche’s myth?)
that pursues the intimacy of words.

http___www.pixteller.com_pdata_t_l-112044

Subjectivity

No objectivity
in a default subjective poem,
clarity of mind, definitely
in the pursuit of lonesome.

http___www.pixteller.com_pdata_t_l-112054

Lies

No more lies,
stop the delusion,
restore hope.
No more cries,
what’s the scope
of so much exclusion.

http___www.pixteller.com_pdata_t_l-112057

14 April 2015

After some weeks of postponement, the MOOC has started today and will finish by the end of May.

The topics will cover:

Week 1 – Notetaking, Sketching, Drafting

Week 2 – Form and Content

Week 3 – The Line and the Page

Week 4 – Formalism and Meter

Week 5 – The Turn

Week 6 – Poem as essay

Week 7 – Persona and Pleasure

Participapion is expected in discussion forum on peers’ assignments (5 comments in Piazza by Sunday morning), on video topics and writing practices (5 comments in respective folders by sunday morning):

Filling Video Quiz on sunday morning

Submitting a writing assignment every Thursday in Piazza.

http://piazza.com/canvas.net

https://learn.canvas.net/courses/641

8 April 2015

I’ve been working on the Beat Generation writers and poets, exploring the trial version of Scribe Video and making audio compositions with Audacity.

One of the short vídeos is about Allen Ginsberg and his long poem Howl, the other two focus on the fiction of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and William Burroughs’ Naked Lunch

29 March 2015

Recalling Ezra Pound and, in particular,  an excerpt of his poem «Hugh Selwyn Mauberly», in part autobiographic.

«The poem comprises eighteen short poems which are grouped into two sections. The first is a capsule biography of Ezra Pound himself, as indicated by the title of the first poem, which reads “E.P. Ode pour l’élection de son sépulchre” (“Ezra Pound: Ode for the Choice of His Sepulchre”). The second section introduces us to the struggling poet Mauberley’s character, career and fate»  (in http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Selwyn_Mauberley)

For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain “the sublime”
In the old sense. Wrong from the start —

No, hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;
Capaneus; trout for factitious bait:

“Idmen gar toi panth, os eni Troie
Caught in the unstopped ear;
Giving the rocks small lee-way
The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.

His true Penelope was Flaubert,
He fished by obstinate isles;
Observed the elegance of Circe’s hair
Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.

Unaffected by “the march of events”,
He passed from men’s memory in l’an trentiesme
De son eage; the case presents
No adjunct to the Muses’ diadem.

(more in http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hugh-selwyn-mauberly-part-i/)

28 March 2015

A short animation on the elements of poetry

26 March 2015

The start of this course is delayed and an invitation to join a poem competition in Facebook and Twitter was sent to the participants. I love poetry but have no literary talent to write.

International Literary Wrting in Facebook

Twitter

I tried this tribute to Herberto Helder

tribute_to_Herberto_Helder

23 March 2015

One of the greatest contemporary portuguese poets died today. His name was Herberto Helder and he didn’t like to show in public. He refused awards and had a distate for public events.

I read his book of poems «Passos em Volta» at the University, many years ago, and another book of essays and stories «Photomaton &Vox». More recently, some poems, read by himself, were made available in Youtube. A wonderful voice with the music of Rodrigo Leão – a superb production:

FOUNTAIN (poem) – Herberto Helder – Portugal – Poetry International

// // // //

Fonte
II
No sorriso louco das mães batem as leves
gotas de chuva. Nas amadas
caras loucas batem e batem
os dedos amarelos das candeias.
Que balouçam. Que são puras.
Gotas e candeias puras. E as mães
aproximam-se soprando os dedos frios.
Seu corpo move-se pelo meio dos ossos filiais, pelos tendões
e órgãos mergulhados,
e as calmas mães intrínsecas sentam-se
na cabeças filiais.
Sentam-se, e estão ali num silêncio demorado e apressado,
vendo tudo,
e queimando as imagens, alimentando as imagens,
enquanto o amor é cada vez mais forte.
E bate-lhes nas caras, o amor leve.
O amor feroz.
E as mães são cada vez mais belas.
Pensam os filhos que elas levitam.
Flores violentas batem nas suas pálpebras.
Elas respiram ao alto e em baixo. São
silenciosas.
E a sua cara está no meio das gotas particulares
da chuva,
em volta das candeias. No contínuo
escorrer dos filhos.
As mães são as mais altas coisas
que os filhos criam, porque se colocam
na combustão dos filhos, porque
os filhos estão como invasores dentes-de-leão
no terreno das mães.
E as mães são poços de petróleo nas palavras dos filhos,
e atiram-se, através deles, como jactos
para fora da terra.
E os filhos mergulham em escafandros no interior
de muitas águas,
e trazem as mães como polvos embrulhados nas mãos
e na agudeza de toda a sua vida.
E o filho senta-se com a sua mãe à cabeceira da mesa,
e através dele a mãe mexe aqui e ali,
nas chávenas e nos garfos.
E através da mãe o filho pensa
que nenhuma morte é possível e as águas
estão ligadas entre si
por meio da mão dele que toca a cara louca
da mãe que toca a mão pressentida do filho.
E por dentro do amor, até somente ser possível
amar tudo,
e ser possível tudo ser reencontrado por dentro do amor.
Fountain
II
On the mother’s mad smiles the raindrops
patter down. On their beloved
mad faces the lanterns tap
their yellow fingers.
Swaying. Pure.
Pure raindrops and lanterns. And the mothers
draw near, blowing on their cold fingers,
moving their bodies
through filial bones, tendons,
submerged organs.
And the intrinsic mothers calmly sit down
inside filial heads.
They sit there in slow and urgent silence,
seeing everything
and burning the images, fuelling the images,
while love keeps getting stronger.
Showering them in the face. Tender love.
Fierce love.
And the mothers are ever more beautiful.
Think the sons whom the mothers levitate.
Violent flowers strike their eyelids.
Above and below they breathe
in silence,
theirs faces gleaming in the spray
of raindrops,
around the lanterns. In the continuous
pourring down of sons.
Mothers are the loftiest things
created by sons, since they dwell
in their sons’ deflagration, since
sons are like dandelion invaders
in their mothers’ terrain.
And mothers are oil wells in the speech of their sons,
spurting through them
from out of the earth.
And the sons dive, in rubber suits, into the depths
of myriad waters
with the mothers wrapped like octopi around their hands
and around their tenderest nerves.
And the son sits with his mother at the head of the table.
Through him the mother fiddles
with the teacups and the forks,
and through her he thinks
no dead is possible, and the waters
are connected
through his hand touching the mad face
of his mother who can sense his touch
and through love, in love, until it’s only possible
to love everything
and it’s possible to rediscover everything through love.

//

18 March 2015

An exploratory search about writing poetry.

Trying to define poetry in a diagram
what_is_poetry_diagram

A short advice from an american poet – Florida International University Creative Writing Professor Campbell McGrath on how to write a poem – https://youtu.be/5U00ybFDTRU

Edward Hirsch on Poets versus Prose Writers – https://youtu.be/MN4nwqhfP6Y 

Billy Collins on the Great Poets – https://youtu.be/jF5TUtcA-PM 

A repository of poems by 500 poets in http://allpoetry.com/

A slideshare of a portuguese teacher onPoetry Rythm and Meter

17 March 2015

I’ve enrolled in a new MOOC «How Writers write Poetry», starting March 23 – May 12, 2015, promoted by the University of Iowa in Canvas.net platform.

«…offers an interactive progression through the principles and practice of writing poetry. The course presents a curated collection of short, intimate talks on craft by two dozen acclaimed poets writing in English. Craft topics include persona, notebooking, the line, the turn, form, and the lyric. The talks are designed for beginning poets just starting to put words on a page as well as for advanced poets looking for new entry points, engagement with process, or teaching tips. (…) Contributing poets’ video talks will be contextualized through online discussion and writing assignments.»

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