Q&A with Josh Lanyon discussion
JUST FOR FUN
>
Read Me a Poem Sing Me a Song
Letter From Under the Sea by Nizar Qabbani (translated by Kevin Moore)
If you are my friend, help me,
To leave you.
If you are my lover, help me,
So that I can be cured of you.
If I knew that love was so dangerous,
I would not have loved.
If I knew that the sea was so deep,
I would not have set sail.
If I knew my end,
I would not have begun.
I desire you, so teach me
Not to desire.
Teach me
How to cut the roots of love from the depths.
Teach me
How tears perish in eyes.
Teach me
How the heart dies and yearning ends.
If you are a prophet, free me
From this enchantment,
From this disbelief.
Your love is blasphemy, so cleanse me
From this disbelief.
If you are strong, pull me out
Of this open sea.
I do not know the art of swimming.
The blue waves of your eyes,
Drag me to the depths.
I do not have experience
In love, and I do not have a boat.
If I am precious to you, take me in your hands.
I love from head to toe.
I am breathing under the water.
I am drowning,
Drowning.
Drowning
Here sung by the popular Arabic singer Abdel Halim Hafez.
Other poems by Qabbani
http://www.sackett.net/QabbaniPoetry.pdf
Antonella wrote: "Letter From Under the Sea by Nizar Qabbani (translated by Kevin Moore)
If you are my friend, help me,
To leave you.
If you are my lover, help me,
So that I can be cured of you.
If I knew that lov..."
This poem is gorgeous, Antonella. Thank you for sharing.
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by Nizar Qabbani (translated by Kevin Moore)
If you are my friend, help me,
To leave you.
If you are my lover, help me,
So that I can be cured of you.
If I knew that lov..."
Ah! But this is the best possible drowning. :-)
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By Amy Lowell
Bath
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air.
The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in lathes and planes of greenish-white. It cleaves the water into flaws like a jewel, and cracks it to bright light.
Little spots of sunshine lie on the surface of the water and dance, dance, and their reflections wobble deliciously over the ceiling; a stir of my finger sets them whirring, reeling. I move a foot, and the planes of light in the water jar. I lie back and laugh, and let the green-white water, the sun-flawed beryl water, flow over me. The day is almost too bright to bear, the green water covers me from the too bright day. I will lie here awhile and play with the water and the sun spots.
The sky is blue and high. A crow flaps by the window, and there is a whiff of tulips and narcissus in the air.
This poem is actually quite a bit longer...
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems...
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By Amy Lowell
Bath
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air.
The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through ..."
You have been playing with the water and the sun spots again, now haven't you dear? :-)
But seriously, this is such a beautiful poem. I love the images and the bubbly atmosphere. Thank you for posting this.
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by Nizar Qabbani (translated by Kevin Moore)
If you are my friend, help me,
To leave you.
If you are my lover, help me,
So that I can be cured of you.
If I knew that lov..."
I haven't heard this one before. Thanks, Antonella.
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STARS by Sara Teasdale
Alone in the night
On a dark hill
With pines around me
Spicy and still,
And a heaven full of stars
Over my head
White and topaz
And misty red;
Myriads with beating
Hearts of fire
The aeons
Cannot vex or tire;
Up the dome of heaven
Like a great hill
I watch them marching
Stately and still.
And I know that I
Am honored to be
Witness
Of so much majesty.
Johanna wrote: "Did we already post this one here?STARS by Sara Teasdale
Alone in the night
On a dark hill
With pines around me
Spicy and still,
And a heaven full of stars
Over my head
White and topaz
And mi..."
beautiful poem! :) I love stars. When I was a kid I used to stare at them. Thanks, Johanna!
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APRIL by Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
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NIGHT by Sara Teasdale
Stars over snow,
And in the west a planet
Swinging below a star—
Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,
It is not far—
It never will be far.
You don't have to stop, dear Johanna! Thank you!
I love these poems. I cry not easily, but poems do that to me. Letter From Under The Sea is very beautiful and Spring Day is really spring in words and gives me a feeling of happiness. Stars reminds me of a wonderful night with a clear night sky and the feeling to look into eternity.
Thank you
Speaking of poems, I LOVE this one by Lord ByronCLXXIII. "She walks in beauty"
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light 5
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face, 10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
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CLXXIII. "She walks in beauty"
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bri..."
This is beautiful, Josephine.
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:-)
Did you know that Scotland has a National Poet? The Scots Makar.I found out because my Scottish friend wrote me about an interesting exhibition at the Scottish Parliament about the Scottish Women’s Hospitals were set up in war zones across Europe: when their founder Dr. Elsie Inglis (born 1864) approached the British War Office with her suggestion, she was effectively told to "go home and knit socks" ... hence the Scottish Women’s Hospitals which she founded served Britain's allies, rather than their own forces.
So Scotland's Makar Liz Lochhead wrote The Ballad of Elsie Inglis. Here she reads it. Maybe not a traditional poem, but it has a certain charme...
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I found out because my Scottish friend wrote me about an interesting exhibition at the Scottish Parliament about the Scottish Women..."
Thank you for sharing the info and the link, Antonella.
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STARS by Sara Teasdale
Alone in the night
On a dark hill
With pines around me
Spicy and still,
And a heaven full of stars
Over my head
White and topaz
And mi..."
I love that one so much.
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APRIL by Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go ..."
Teasdale is one of my all time favorites. She will never go out of fashion for me. And you can never post too many of her poems, as far as I'm concerned. ;-D
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NIGHT by Sara Teasdale
Stars over snow,
And in the west a planet
Swinging below a star—
Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,
It is no..."
Thank you for posting these, Johanna. They seem especially right for springtime.
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I found out because my Scottish friend wrote me about an interesting exhibition at the Scottish Parliament about the Scottish Women..."
Oh my God. I am still trying to get past the go-home-and-knit-socks. Ah, but this is the same mentality that gets us into wars in the first place.
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Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
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Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:..."
I like it. :-)
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IN PERPETUAL SPRING by Amy Gerstler
Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of
spiky voodoo lilies
and trip over the roots
of a sweet gum tree,
in search of medieval
plants whose leaves,
when they drop off
turn into birds
if they fall on land,
and colored carp if they
plop into water.
Suddenly the archetypal
human desire for peace
with every other species
wells up in you. The lion
and the lamb cuddling up.
The snake and the snail, kissing.
Even the prick of the thistle,
queen of the weeds, revives
your secret belief
in perpetual spring,
your faith that for every hurt
there is a leaf to cure it.
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SPRING EVENING by Su Shi (1037-1101)
A spring evening--one priceless moment.
The smell of fresh flowers and the glow of the moon.
Sweet song drifts down from the balcony--beautiful.
The garden swing hangs motionless as evening drips away.
(translated to English by Baudelaire Jones)
[ O were my love yon Lilac fair]Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796
O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.
O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa’;
And I myself a drap o’ dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa’!
O there, beyond expression blest,
I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;
Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light!
I thought of this one as the buds are just starting to form on my lilac bush. I look forward to the lovely colors and smell each year.
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IN PERPETUAL SPRING by Amy Gerstler
Garden..."
Ha! I love this!
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SPRING EVENING by Su Shi (1037-1101)
A spring evening--one priceless moment.
The smell of fresh flowers and the glow of the moon.
Sweet song drifts down from the balcon..."
Lovely!
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Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796
O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
Ho..."
This is so perfect for my current state of writing. ;-)
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Wood Song
Sara Teasdale
I heard a wood thrush in the dusk
Twirl three notes and make a star-
My heart that walked with bitterness
Came back from very far.
Three shining notes were all he had,
And yet they made a starry call-
I caught life back against my breast
And kissed it, scars and all.
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Wood Song
Sara Teasdale
I heard a wood thrush in the dusk
Twirl three notes and make a star-
My heart that walked with bitterness
Came back from..."
I love that last line: And kissed it, scars and all.
Also, I don't think I would have never found Sara Teasdale without you, dear Josh. Thank you so much for introducing her here.
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Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796
O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
Ho..."
Oh yes! This was one of the poems I almost posted here yesterday. Great minds and all that. :-)
Mtsnow13 wrote: "[ O were my love yon Lilac fair]Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796
O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
Ho..."
Oh, that's pretty! :-)
Lilacs are about to bloom in the warmer, more sheltered places but soon it will be all over the town.
By The Seaside : The Secret Of The Sea - by Henry Wadsworth LongfellowAh! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me.
Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
And the answer from the shore!
Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long,
Of the noble Count Arnaldos
And the sailor's mystic song.
Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines,
With a soft, monotonous cadence,
Flow its unrhymed lyric lines;--
Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand,
Saw a fair and stately galley,
Steering onward to the land;--
How he heard the ancient helmsman
Chant a song so wild and clear,
That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear,
Till his soul was full of longing,
And he cried, with impulse strong,--
'Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
Teach me, too, that wondrous song!'
'Wouldst thou,'--so the helmsman answered,
'Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!'
In each sail that skims the horizon,
In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
Hear those mournful melodies;
Till my soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
If tears could build a stairway,and memories a lane,
I’d walk right up to heaven
and bring you home again.
A thousand words won't bring you back, I know because I've tried;
neither will a million tears, I know because I've cried.
Remembering you is easy, I do it every day.
Missing you is the heartache that never goes away.
THE TIDEThe tide recedes, but leaves behind
bright seashells on the sand.
The sun goes down, but gentle warmth
still lingers on the land.
The music stops, yet echoes on
in sweet, soulful refrains.
For every joy that passes,
something beautiful remains.
Author: Unknown
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Karen wrote: "Condolences on the loss of your friend, Josephine. Poetry expresses and consoles. Lovely selections."Hi, Karen! Thank you! Yes, I agree... been reading poems along this line.
How is it that I never even heard of this Pulitzer Prize winner and very interesting poet? Here a small thing:
A Dent in a Bucket by Gary Snyder
Hammering a dent out of a bucket
a woodpecker
answers from the woods
And here a longer one:
Riprap
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way,
straying planets,
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles—
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like an endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
Here he reads ''Riprap'':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdOE_9...
See also this long interview:
http://www.theparisreview.org/intervi...
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A Dent in a Bucket by Gary Snyder
Hammering a dent out of a bucket
a woodpecker..."
This made me smile. :-)
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Karen wrote: "... lots of single syllables creating a kind of staccato song of stones and stars. ..."Wow, I love also your _poetic_ description!
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Here a small thing:
A Dent in a Bucket by Gary Snyder
Hammering a dent out of a bucket
a woodpecker..."
I love these both!
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Yes!
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Toilet paper poetry:
Last few years a Finnish toilet paper factory has been asking people to send them self made thoughts/poems/aphorisms to print on toilet paper. This summer the theme is love. The task was to describe what love is and what does it feel like to be in love.
Maybe it's weird, but I find this adorable. I imagine all these Finns at their summer cottages by the lakes, sitting in their wooden outhouses :-) reading love poetry. :-D
Here're a few freely translated examples from this summer's toilet paper:
Love is like laundry and dishes,
it never ends.
Eyes are smiling,
stomach is ringing,
brains are in a full stop.
I woke up in the middle of night
and couldn't sleep.
It doesn't matter
— I got to be next to you.
Love is the tenderness
which prevents you
from getting angry
when the other one
steals the whole blanket,
once again.
Every time our eyes meet
my world feels slightly bigger.
You, me and blueberries.
We try to pick deer flies
from each other's hair
— they don't want to part with us.
It's so nice
when you lend me
your walker.
Mom, I love you so much
that it makes me all sweaty.
Dear boss,
I've fallen in love.
But I can come to work
if you don't mind
that I think about Erkki
all the time.
I have soup, sauna and kisses here.
What do you want to start with?
Johanna wrote: "Posted this already elsewhere, but wanted to copy it here too, as an afterthought.Toilet paper poetry:
Last few years a Finnish toilet paper factory has been asking people to send them self made..."
These are awesome, made me smile, thank you for posting them :-)
p.s. i find myself rereading them and smiling some more.
Johanna wrote: "Posted this already elsewhere, but wanted to copy it here too, as an afterthought.Toilet paper poetry"
What a lovely idea! Thank you for translating!
«Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love; Cannot be killed or swept aside».Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator and star of Broadway's hit "Hamilton," fought tears as he addressed the tragedy in a sonnet he recited while accepting the Tony Award for best score.
My wife’s the reason anything gets done
She nudges me towards promise by degrees
She is a perfect symphony of one
Our son is her most beautiful reprise
We chase the melodies that seem to find us until they’re finished songs and start to play
When senseless acts of tragedy remind us that nothing here is promised, not one day
The show is proof that history remembers
We live through times when hate and fear seem stronger
We rise and fall and light from dying embers
Remembrances that hope and love last longer
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love
Cannot be killed or swept aside
I sing Vanessa’s symphony
Eliza tells her story
Now fill the world with music, love, and pride
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FnAvh...
Q&A with Josh Lanyon
Books mentioned in this topic
Mr. Cogito (other topics)Don't Mention the Children (other topics)
Writing Haiku: A Beginner's Guide to Composing Japanese Poetry (other topics)
Dear Writer: Pep Talks & Practical Advice for the Creative Life (other topics)
The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Zbigniew Herbert (other topics)Vanni Bianconi (other topics)
Pablo Neruda (other topics)
Michael Rosen (other topics)
Michael Rosen (other topics)
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As you set out for Ithaca
hope that your journey is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laestrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don’t be a..."
Oh, cool. I'll listen to it when hubby wakes from his nap on the sofa... :-)