Nobel Prize winner Wislawa Szymborska passed away today, at 88 years old. She says it best herself:
A Note
Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;
to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;
to tell pain
from everything it’s not;
to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.
An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;
and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,
mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing
something important.
Wislawa inspired me when I was writing. I am very sad to see her go.
(via blanddiva11)
Source: hmhpoetry
They dined on mince, and slices of quince
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Edward Lear 12 May 1812 – 29 January 1888
I found this nonsense quoted in the book Gridlinked by Neal Asher and thought it was so neat that I had to share it with you folks. Some of you might have seen me tweet it earlier and wondered what the hell I was on about, so here’s your explanation!
These are the closing lines of Edward Lear’s The Owl and the Pussycat.
An Ode To The Tumblr Queue
Seriously you little piece of shit
I know dates can be hard to calculate
When your programmer has no wit
And posts sit in you and accumulate
I said November fourteenth it was writ
You think November ninth is the date
And suddenly, so suddenly you submit
My post onto my blog without debate
Now I must delete and re-queue
And yet again hope you are forgiving
When you try to remember the time
When all I wanted was to trust you
So that I could go on with living
A synchronized life so sublime.
In Canto For The Fearless Thought
There is a song in every verse of your smile; Like waves that spread over still water As if your gaze was something quite different;— Lush petals of a rose embalm your sweet lips;— The fresh wafts of carnations and honeysuckle It would arise in it a pounding throb of lust Such are the infatuations of my fearless thoughts;
like festive dancers they ripple out of you.—
Solemn performers that demand a whole stage
for their singular and self-effacing acts.—
with rings that expand peacefully and fade away.
Serene whispers that are the pure contagion
of the efferent eyes you softly impale me with.
a lake within a valley of unbound silence;
the murmur of the waves indescribably precious
for which no remembrance is secure enough.
as if there somehow would exist a garden there.
would be so ripe and fragrant that they would
thrill even the thought of plain ascetic nature.—
that would consume every notion of frigidity.
they are the ex post facto of my fervid dreams,—
the looking-glass image of our boundless love.
Sunset Glow
Blood of the sun cast upon clouds;— An aperture of glowing blue expands Now even the glowing crimson fades
lapidary blocks in grain and steel
enclose the peach of fading horizon.
like a mouth of weeping angels.
and night swiftly approaches
as the stone cut heaven splits open
to leave place for twinkling stars.
Mother Ceridwen
I can hear the whisper of her feet (Welcome again, Dear Mother.)
amidst the sun-weave of the trees,
over last autumn’s bed of leaves
and in the cool river water.
Silently she thread through Spring
with the Flux of Birth in her hands,
the gemstone of Infinity in her hair;
around her neck hang flowers,
and their fragrance is Summer.
Shattered Teeth
The shattered teeth The rocks have floated Like dreams they elude
of an old tired widow
lie scattered over wastes:—
like bare naked fragments
of her passionate sorrow.
to the barren surface
as if the Earth
could not hold such secrets
to itself anymore.
just before twilight;—
the schematic reality
falls flatly back in place
among pine cones
and dying moss.
Sulfurous Beacons
This sky is like blue steel in candle light.—
The street lights glow like sulfurous beacons
As a fine spray of scattered rain swirl
Through their stubborn cones of warm light.
Evening Sky
Our hearts are stars Your light found its way It ended in a warm
burning bright
on a blackened sky.
over infinite spaces;
and you touched me
at the other end
of the cold horizon.
and passionate embrace
that lit the evening
of our sad world.
The Summer
The summer drench me
in freshly plucked tears,
brought in from a garden
beyond this black sky:
the ripe fruits
of a storm, simply left
in the antechamber;
gifts to the guests
and visitors
of this world.
