Love/Liefde

Please click HERE to read poems about Love.

http://rpc.technorati.com/rpc/ping

Body and Soul

Read my poem HERE and feel free to leave any comments!

Seven II

As you know, I was tagged by Meghna .......to do a meme! Read what a meme is....(pronounced like in "dream")...on a post of 2 days ago......OK, it was REALLY very difficult to decide WHERE to start first, as my time is now very little after starting an IT course today! So, I had to think very fast what I will post, as there are so MANY things I could write about!!, but to limit it to only SEVEN! That was very difficult....I made a list, crossed out, started with another, crossed out again...and then just started with what jumped to my mind!!I will have to do another one and another and another and another and.....wow....
First of all, I do LOVE teaching, as I see teaching as a CALLING and not "just a job"...(like I heard some teachers saying that here in London..) for me it is NOT "just a job!!!!"........My great grandad left Holland to teach in South Africa and I think the "teaching -blood" is running through my veins! Click here to see pictures of the current school. The old school, which was in his very own house, is about 2 km from the current school.
I used to teach Primary and don't think I ever want to teach Secondary......but if I have to.....It will have to be a subject like ICT only, as I do like IT and to incorporate ICT in any aspect of my teaching.
I love reading, I LOVE books...not just "like" it....I have about a library packed away in South Africa and have slowly started to build one again. Children's books....adult books...If I'm teaching, you will always find me in a bookshop, leaving with many books! A book as a present to me...and you will make my day! I also like writing stories. During secondary school, I used to get good marks for creative writing...what we also call "composition"....and I was always eager to get homework in composition....I just loved to let my mind flow....


Poetry!!! On this picture you can see a famous and well-known South African poet...Totius...(pen name) .....J D du Toit....he wrote some fantastic poems, some of them very moving, like the one about the death of his own child, killed by lightning....really an emotional poem! His daughter stood by an open window, when lightning struck and he was there to witness everything...as his poem tells us...read my translated version of his poem at the bottom of the post...

South Africa!!! ........I love my country to bits! I have a passion for South Africa. South Africa will always be THE place to be!! No other country is as beautiful as South Africa. On this picture you can see Simonstown...Cape Town...


And.......of course........if you don't know it by now...you will NEVER know! CHESS!!! I never played it at school. During Primary at the age of about 10, my brother taught me...I got my first chess book at the age of 12 from my one sister.....with Fischer/Spasski games in the back....I do like Bobby Fischer's games.....I played them through as a child as I had no one to play with!! No one in my family wanted to play chess!!...then at Secondary...it was always just BOYS when we were called to play chess...and I felt intimidated by them...no other girls! And the boys...always giving you the "look"...as if they wanna say..."hey...a girl playing chess!! how is that possible!"...I really started to get into chess when at my second school, the Headteacher asked me to start chess.......and I was over the moon! My kids really did well....I left at that school with two teams, each team.... 10 players and two reserves and a lot of Junior children...in South Africa they are Gr1-Gr3 (7-9 year old) kids in line to join the teams later... (If you click on this pic, you will see a good checkmate position, this player's rating is a bit low, he only started playing quite recently, but has picked-up very quickly and sometimes, I really have to be very careful with my moves! We play friendlies and while playing, I try to help him with the closing of his games, as this is where his problem lies at the moment.)

I like the colour red ....although purple-pinkish is also one of my favourites...This top is a beautiful top!
...CATS!! I'm a catlover! Cats are peaceloving animals! They have personalities of their own and they have their own language to speak to you!! Listen to your cat!! and try to understand his language!!

The poem that follows now, is the one Totius wrote about his child. When I have time, I will try to translate it....


O die pyn-gedagte
Totius....(JD du Toit)
O Die pyn-gedagte: My kind is dood! . . .
dit brand soos 'n pyl in my.
Die mense sien daar niks nie van,
en die Here alleen die weet wat ek ly.

Die dae kom en die nagte gaan
die skadu's word lank en weer kort;
die drywerstem van my werk weerklink,
en ek gaan op my kruisweg voort.

Maar daar skiet aldeur 'n pyn in my hart,
so, dat my lewe se glans verdwyn;
Jou kind is dood met 'n vreeslike dood!
En – ek gryp my bors van die pyn.

O Die bliksemgedagte! . . . Ja, lieflingskind,
een straal het jou skone liggaam verskroei,
maar bliksemstrale sonder tal
laat my binneste brand en bloei.
Sy was so teer soos 'n vlindertjie,
sy't lugtig omheen geswerf;
'n asempie wind kon haar vlerkies breek
en – kyk watter dood moes sy sterf!
Hoe weinig die kinders wat so moet sterf,
dis een uit die tienduisend-tal,
en ag, dat dit sy was, en ek moes sien
dat sy dood in my arms val!
O Die pyn-gedagte: My kind is dood! . . .
dit brand soos 'n pyl in my;
die mense die sien daar niks nie van,
en die Here alleen die weet wat ek ly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...as I promised...a translation of the poem!
Read my English translation of the poem HERE ....
Oh the painful thought

Autumn

Yesterday I was on my bike in the park close to where we live. While riding around the park, I couldn't help being touched by all the different colours of Autumn! My best season is Autumn, because of the changes. So many changes are taking place and I was mad at myself for not having my camera with me! Surely will take it today!! I had my mp3 player with me listening to some music and at some stage the music of Sweet People was playing...VERY appropriate!! I was also thinking about the song of...I think it is Roger Whitaker...singing..."how small we are, how little we know..."? can't remember! I was really struck by all the different shades...of yellow/green/purple/red....

Enjoy this poem!

Autumn days are here again!

In autumn when the trees are brown

The little leaves come tumbling down

They do not make the slightest sound

But lie so quietly on the ground

Until the wind comes puffing by

And blows them off towards the sky.

The winds will blow their own freshness into you,

and the storms their energy,

while cares will drop away from you

like the leaves of Autumn.

by John Muir

Blue mood...thoughts drifting...Ingrid Jonker

Just my mood...not in a mood to say anything today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ingrid Jonker died by walking into the sea!

To: Ingrid Jonker...Poet...A van Heerden

I see her pain,

I hear her voice

No one understood,

on one looked up

She carried a burden,

She carried herself,

She carried alone

~
Through her words,

Through her thoughts,

Through her lines

Through her phrases
She opened her soul

She opened her heart

She cried out

All on deaf ear
Abandoned

alone confused

loved used

abused
She let them.

~

Their acceptance made her accept,

But she died of that,

inside her soul.

She had too much of this world to carry on…
The water was calling
In her own defence

She gave herself

At her own expense…

~~~~~~~~~~

+++++++++++++++++++

This poem is in Afrikaans/English....

Somewhere I have never travelled - Iewers het ek nooit gereis nie

Ingrid Jonker.....adapted by e.e. cummings

+

somewhere I have never travelled,

gladly beyond any experience,

your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which I cannot touch because they are too near

~~~~~

iewers het ek nooit gereis nie daardie groen verte

verby alle herinneringe jou oë dra hul stilte

in jou geringste gebaar is daar iets wat my omsluit

of wat ek nie durf aanraak nie iets te ná

~~~~

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though I have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself

as Spring opens(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

~~~~

jou oë van landskappe sal my maklik blootlê

al het ek my hart gesluit soos twee hande

jy ontvou my keer op keer soos die lente

bedrewe en heimlik haar eerste roos

~~~~

or if your wish be to close me, I and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

~~~~

en as jy my sou verlaat geslote dan

sou my voorhoof sluit mooi en onmiddelik

soos die hart van 'n blom sou droom

van 'n wit sneeu wat alles oral bedek

~~~~

nothing which we are to perceive in this world

equals the power of intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

~~~~

niks wat ons in hierdie wêreld kan versin

ewenaar die krag van jou broosheid die tekstuur

van jou oë tref my die groen van sy veld

een bevestig die ewige en die vir altyd met elke sug

~~~~

(I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;

only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

~~~~

ek weet nie wat dit is wat jou laat vou

en ontvou nie ek verstaan net êrens op my reise

die stem van jou oë is dieper as alle rose

nee nie eens die reën nie het sulke hande

+++++++++++++++++++

Poem found here: Parnassus ...

The Child

The child is not dead

The child lifts his fists against his mother

Who shouts Africa ! shouts the breath

Of freedom and the veld

In the locations of the cordoned heart

~~~

The child lifts his fists against his father

in the march of the generations

who shouts Africa ! shout the breath

of righteousness and blood

in the streets of his embattled pride

~~~

The child is not dead not at Langa

nor at Nyanga not at Orlando

nor at Sharpeville

nor at the police station at Philippi

where he lies with a bullet through his brain

~~~

The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers

on guard with rifles Saracens and batons

the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings

the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers

this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere

the child grown to a man treks through all Africa

the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world

Without a pass

Ingrid Jonker March 1960

(Translation of: "Die Kind" ) Poems now owned by Simone Jonker...daughter of Ingrid

That's me...and Ingrid Jonker

........for the rest of the evening....

~~~~~~

This is an Afrikaans poem written by Ingrid Jonker...a brilliant poet of South Africa...follow the link at the bottom to read about her. Some of her poems have been translated in different languages.

~~~~~~~
Madeliefies in Namakwaland
~~~Ingrid Jonker

Waarom luister ons nog

na die antwoorde van die madeliefies

op die wind op die son

wat het geword van die kokkewietjies

Agter die geslote voorkop

waar miskien nog ’n takkie tuimel

van ’n verdrinkte lente

~~~

Agter my gesneuwelde woord

Agter ons verdeelde huis

Agter die hart gesluit teen homself

Agter draadheinings, kampe, lokasies

Agter die stilte waar onbekende tale

val soos klokke by ’n begrafenis
Agter ons verskleurde land

~~~

sit die groen hotnotsgot van die veld

en ons hoor nog verdwaasd

klein blou Namakwaland-madeliefie

iets antwoord, iets glo, iets weet.

Read about Ingrid Jonker HERE in Wikipedia.

Show me the place ...

This poem was written by C Louis Leipoldt, (1880 - 1947) - a South African poet and you can read an English translation here to, translated by Melissa on her blog, link at the bottom too....it is one of our best poets we've had and this poem is one of my favourites too...do read the English one and enjoy it!

WYS MY DIE PLEK

Wys my die plek waar ons saam gestaan het,

Eens, toe jy myne was -

Vroeër, voor jou liefde vir my getaan het,

Vroeër, toe jy myne was.

Kyk, dis dieselfde;

die silwer see

Blink in die sonskyn,

soos lang verlee

Dit eenmaal geblink het,

'n welkomsgroet

Vir ons liefde wat uithou en alles vergoed.

~~~

Wys my die plek waar ons saam gekniel het,

Eens, toe jy myne was -

Vroeër, toe een siel vir ons saam besiel het,

Vroeër, toe jy myne was.

Kyk, dis dieselfde; die hemel, blou,

Lag soos voorheen op my en op jou;

Dit skitter nog altyd 'n welkomsgroet

Vir ons liefde wat uithou en alles vergoed.

~~~

Wys my die plek waar ons saam geloop het,

Eens, toe jy myne was -

Vroeër, toe ons harte so veel gehoop het,

Vroeër, toe jy myne was.

Kyk, dis dieselfde! Net jy nie.

Vra,Wie van ons twee moet die meeste dra ?

Jy wat vergeet het - of ek wat boet

Vir my liefde wat uithou en alles vergoed ?

by C. Louis Leipoldt (ca. 1880 - 1947)

SHOW ME THE PLACE

Show me the place where we stood side by side,

Once, when you were mine -

Earlier, before your love for me died,

Earlier, when you were mine.

Look, it's the same, the silver sea

Shines in the sun's rays, just like before

It once shined,

a welcoming

For our love that endured and everything enhanced.

~~~

Show me the place where we knelt together,

Once, when you were mine -

Earlier, when one soul possessed us,

Earlier, when you were mine.

Look, it's the same, the sky, so blue,

Smiles just as before on me and on you,

It continues to shine as a welcoming

For our love that endures and everything enhances.

~~~

Show me the place where we use to walk,

Once, when you were mine -

Earlier, when our hearts hoped so much,

Earlier, when you were mine.Look, it's the same!

Except for you.

Which one of us has the most to bear ?

You, that has forgotten - or me,

that has to pay

For my love that endures and all enhances ?

Translated by......Melissa here on her blog!

Tom Waits...music file

Listen and enjoy Tom Waits

Ek het nie geweet van die musiek van Tom Waits, totdat iemand my van hom vertel het, en die liedjie is pragtig. Die woorde is sommer ook net hier!

Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You

Tom Waits

Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,
Well the music plays and you display
your heart for me to see,
I had a beer and now I hear
you calling out for me
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the room is crowded, there's people everywhere
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well if you sit down with this old clown,
take that frown and break it,
Before the evening's gone away,
I think that we could make it,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

I can see that you are lonesome just like me,
and it being late, you'd like some some company,
Well I've had two, I look at you,
and you look back at me,
The guy you're with has up and split,
the chair next to you's free,
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me.
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me.

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Turn around to look at you,
you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face,
guess I'll have another round
And I think that I just fell in love with you.
Copyright© 2000-2007

When there is faith - Robert Le Noury
When one door closes another opens,
when you finish one page there is another,
when one shooting star fades you see the moon.

There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
There is always a silver lining around that cloud.
There is a reason for each season.

When you ask it shall be given,
when cry you will be comforted,
when you rejoice the Angels sing.

There are more answers than questions.
There are more smiles than frowns.
There is a reason for living.

Faith teaches us these truths.
Faith holds fast when others dispair.
Faith is true when all else is vain.
"Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith."
Saint Francis of Assisi (1181 - 1226)

National Poetry day...

As it is National Poetry day in the UK, I would like to post poems of my favourite poet, WC Williams....the theme for Poetry day is "Dreams"....enjoy "The Dream" by John Donne, as well as the two poems of William Carlos Williams!

The Dream
by John Donne
Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream ;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy.
Therefore thou waked'st me wisely ; yet
My dream thou brokest not, but continued'st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories
Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best,
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.
As lightning, or a taper's light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noise waked me ;
Yet I thought thee—For thou lovest truth—an angel, at first sight ;
But when I saw thou saw'st my heart,
And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art,
When thou knew'st what I dreamt,
when thou knew'st when
Excess of joy would wake me,
and camest then,
I must confess,
it could not choose but be
Profane, to think thee any thing but thee.
Coming and staying show'd thee, thee,
But rising makes me doubt,
that now
Thou art not thou.
That love is weak where fear's as strong as he ;
'Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,
If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have ;
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me ;
Thou camest to kindle,
go'st to come ; then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Love Song

I lie here thinking of you:
the stain of love
is upon the world!
Yellow, yellow, yellow
it eats into the leaves,
smears with saffron
horned branched the lean
heavily
against a smooth purple sky!
There is no light
only a honey-thick stain
that drips from leaf to leaf
and limb to limb
spoiling the colors
of the whole world-
you far off there under
the wine-red selvage of the west!

~~~William Carlos Williams

As the cat

As the cat
climbed over
the top of
the jamcloset
first the right
forefoot
carefully
then the hind
stepped down
into the pit of
the empty
flowerpot
~~~William Carlos Williams


Friendships come and Friendships go
Like wave upon the sand
Like day and night
Like birds in flight
Like snowflakes when they land
But you and I are something else
Our friendship's here to stay
Like weeds and rocks and dirty socks
It never goes away!

A friend is a person
to laugh and cry with,
An inspiration,
Someone who lends a helping hand,
though friends may not be forever,
And they may not end up together,
the memories of a true friendship will
last forever.
A friend is not a shadow
nor a servant
But someone who hold
a piece of a person in his heart.
Someone who shares a smile,
Someone who brightens up your day
What makes a person a friend?
Is by saying your Love
will stay.
Renee donna Bufete

Oktobermaand...Leipoldt

Leipoldt, C. Louis, 1880-1947
Leipoldt is a South African poet, one of the BEST poets...he describes in this poem the month October. He says October is the most beautiful month...for South Africa, that's the truth of course if you look at my previous entry's photos!

C. LOUIS LEIPOLDT

Dit is die maand Oktober!

Die mooiste, mooiste maand!
Dan is die dag so helder, so groen is elke aand,
so blou en sonder wolke die hemel heerlik bo,
so blomtuin vol van kleure die asvaal ou Karoo,
so blomtuin vol van kleure die asvaal ou Karoo.

Dit is die maand Oktober!
Die varkblom is in bloei;
oor al die seekoeigate is kafferskuil gegroei;
die koppies, kort gelede nog as 'n klip so kaal,
het nou vir welkomsgroetnis hul mooiste voor gehaal;
het nou vir welkomsgroetnis hul mooiste voor gehaal.

Dit is die maand Oktober!
Die akkerboom is groen;
die bloekoms langs die paaie is almal nuut geboen;
en orals in die tuin rond ruik jy sering en roos,
jasmyn en katjiepiering, lemoen en appelkoos,
jasmyn en katjiepiering, lemoen en appelkoos.

Dit is die maand Oktober!
Ek dink die mense vier vir ewig
in die hemel Oktobermaand soos hier!
Wat wens jy meer as blomme, as helder dag en nag?
Wat kan jy beter, mooier of heerliker verwag?
Wat kan jy beter, mooier of heerliker verwag?
Wat gee ek om die winter?
Wat praat jy nou van Mei?
Wat skeel dit as ons later weer donker dae kry?

Ek is nou in Oktober, die mooiste, mooiste maand,
met elke dag so helder, so pragtig elke aand!
Met elke dag so helder, so pragtig elke aand!

Boer War

Please click HERE to read about the Boer/British War on my Wordpress blog, read poems and find some Art too! There are tons of links and info about the War. The link will open in a new window. You will also find posts about War Crimes on my blog.

Afrikaans poems

On my Wordpressblog...link on the right of my blog...http://chessaleeinlondon.wordpress.com....you can read lots more Afrikaans poems too!
I started the week with English poems and want to conclude with Afrikaans poems, not that I'm not going to post any poems here anymore! Poetry is part of my life, so you will definitely see loads more of it!

Hoe kan ons ooit hierdie gedig van JanFE Cilliers vergeet!


Jan FE Cilliers 1865-1940

Die Vlakte

Ek slaap in die rus van die eeue gesus,

ongesien, ongehoord,

en dof en loom in my sonnedroom,

ongewek, ongestoord.

Tot die yl-bloue bande van die ver-verre rande

skuif my breedte uit,

wyd-kringend aan die puur at-omwelwend asuur,

wat my swyend omsluit.

Jong aarde se stoot het my boesem ontbloot

bo die diep van die meer;

en volswanger van lewe't oor waat're geswewe

die gees van die Heer.

Uit die woelende nag van haar jeugdige krag

brag die aarde voort

Leviátansgeslagte,

geweldig van kragte -storm-ontruk aan haar skoot.

Diep in my gesteente berg ek hul gebeente-

die geheim van hul lewe en lot;

maar gewek uit die sode

herleef uit die dode,

na die ewig hernuwingsgebod,

die stof van die verlede

in vorme van die hede,

in eindeloos kome en gaan;

wat die dood my vertrou't,

ek bewaar dit as goud,

en geen grein sal 'k verlore laat gaan.

As die son oor my vloer in die môre kom loer

en die dou van my lippe kus,

dan kyk ek net stom met 'n glimlag om

en lê rnaar weer stil in my rus.

Hoog bowe die kim op sy troon geklim,

is by heer van lewe en dood

na wil en luim geef hy, skraal of ruim,

verderf of lewensbrood.

Uit gloeiende sfeer brand by wreed op my neer

tot my naaktheid kraak en skroei,

en my koorsige asem in bewende wasem

al hygend my bors ontvloei.

In sy skadetjie rondom sy stam op die grond

staat 'n eensame doringboom,

soos die Stilte op haar troon, met dorings gekroon,

wat roerloos die eeue verdroom.

Geen drop vir die dors aan my stofdroë bors:

my kinders versmag en beswyk,

en die stowwe staan soos hul trek en gaan

om my skrale dis te ontwyk.

Soos 'n vlokkie skuim uit die sfere se ruim

kom 'n wolkie aangesweef,

maar hy groei in die blou tot 'n stapelbou

van marmer wat krul en leef -

kolossaal monument op sy swart fondament,

waar die bliksem in brul en beef.

En o, met my is die windjies bly:

hul spring uit die stof orent

en wals en draai in dwarrels

waai oor my vloer, van ent tot ent;

die gras skud hul wakker om same te jakker,

tot hy opspring uit sy kooi

en soos mane en sterde van jaende perde

sy stingels golf en gooi.

Met dof-sware plof, sees koeëls in die stof,

kom die eerste druppels neer,

tot dit ruis alom so deur die gebrom

en gekraak van die donderweer.

Met kloue vooruit om to gryp en buit

jaag 'n haelwolk langs verby,

soos 'n perde-kommando wat dreun oor die lande

vertrap. en géseI hy -

en sy lyke-kleed sien ek ver en breed

in die awendson gesprei.

Stil in die duister lê 'k so en luister

hoe die spruite gesels en lag;

maar bowe die pak van my wolkedak

het die maan al lank gewag:

nou breek en skeur hy 'n baan daardeur

om te deel in my vreug benede;

by sprei die waas van sy romig-

blou gaas -en ek lag so stil-tevrede.

Plek op plek, soos die wolke trek,

sweef die skaduwees onder mee,

soos eilande wyd oor die waat're verspreid

op die boesem van die grote see.

Met 'n afskeidskus gaat die maan ook ter rus,

en ek wag op die daeraad -

so skoon en so mooi soos 'n fris jong nooi

wat lag in haar bruidsgewaad.

Oor die bulte se rug slaat die gloed in die lug

van brande wat ver-weg kwyn,

en doringbome fluister in rooi skemerduister

van gevare wat kom of verdwyn

Uit slote en plas, uit die geurende gras,

styg 'n danklied op ten hemet;

en dis net of ek hoor hoe die kriekies se koor

weergalm uit die sterre-gewemel,

waar wêrelde gaan op hul stifle baan

tot die ende van ruimte en tyd.

So, groots en klaar, staat Gods temper daar,wyd -

in sy majesteit.

Jan FE Cilliers

Dis al

Dis die blond,
dis die blou:
dis die veld,
dis die lug;
en 'n voël draai bowe in eensame vlug -
dis al

Dis n balling gekom
oor die oseaan,
dis n graf in die gras,
dis n vallende traan -
dis al

English IrishAfrikaans dictionary.

On THIS LINK you can find some of my own poems, in Afrikaans and in English and a page where I've started to add only Afrikaans-poems. The link will open in a new window.

Go!

THE DOOR

Go and open the door.

Maybe outside there's

a tree,

or a wood,

a garden,

or a magic city.

Go and open the door.

Maybe a dog's rummaging.

Maybe you'll see a face,

or an eye,

or the pictureof a picture.

Go and open the door.

if there's a fog

it will clear.

Go and open the door.

Even if there's only

the darkness ticking,

even if there's only

the hollow wind,

even if nothing is there,

go and open the door.

~~~~Miroslav Holub --Russian Poet

Read abaout Miroslave Holubhere.

This is just to say

Landcape with the Fall of Icarus

Willimas Carlos Williams


According to Brueghel

when Icarus fell it was spring
a farmer was ploughing

his field

the whole pageantry
of the year

was awake tingling

with itself
sweating in the sun

that melted the wings' wax
unsignificantly

off the coast there was
a splash

quite unnoticed

this was Icarus drowning




Read the poem about the red wheelbarrow... HERE on my Wordpress-blog where you can find an image of the red wheelbarrow too. This link will open in a new window.

Poetry

On my Wordpress-blog you can find poems in Afrikaans and English and you can also use the tags in the Category-cloud for more poems written by other poets. I've got poems by William Carlos Williams, Poe, etc. on my blog, it's easy to do a search in the search box.


Today, it's my poetry day....if you have a passion for poetry the way I have....you will get your "moods", well, that's what I experience, a mood to read, or a mood to write. I've written a couple, just a couple...but wish I was more talented...where is Mrs Bothma now...or Mrs Wilson!! I loved poetry a lot during secondary school, but I hated all those discussions/analysing....how is it possible to tell exactly what the poet meant in his writing...any person can "read " what the poet wanted to say...according to me, it's like art...no right/wrong....and at school, you have to analyse the poem and get it RIGHT...I disagree! Anyway....I will never tell a child that his view about a poem is wrong. If I am in the mood to write a poem, the words just "flow"...sitting down and then thinking what to write......well, then I'm not in the "right" mood! Leave it till later then ....I associate poetry with flowers. The beauty....they inspire, they open your mind.... a flower resembles perfectness....as is poetry....poetry is your soul, it speaks your mind, your soul, what you feel inside, what you feel about society, what matters to you. Like an artist....a painting....what's inside you, reflects....it tells.....it speaks....
I hope you enjoy these quotes I've posted here and click HEREto read more quotes and enjoy!

More DailyBible quotes here.

Thanatopsis

I would like to post this "essay"/poem here, after a chess player had asked me if I had read it....and....I do like it!!

Thanatopsis

by William Cullen Bryant

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air,--
Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that hourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolv'd to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrend'ring up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to th' insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy eternal resting place
Shalt thou retire alone--nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
, With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings
The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.--The hills
Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,--the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The vernal woods--rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and pour'd round all,
Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings
Of morning--and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lost thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings--yet--the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.--
So shalt thou rest--and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living--and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh,
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come,
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bow'd with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustain'd and sooth'd
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
1814


Bryant first wrote this poem when he was about 17, after reading the British "graveyard poets" (e.g. Thomas Gray, "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" and Robert Blair, "The Grave")and William Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads. In particular, there are parallels to Wordsworth's Lucy poems, especially "A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal":

A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

Bryant enlarged "Thanatopsis" in 1821, 7 years later, adding the final injunction and giving the poem a kind of religious point. Do you think his youth is part of how he is viewing death at 17? How do you account for the change? How might he have rewritten it 20 or 50 years later?
Source and read more about Bryant
HERE

Love

I want to continue my Friday's mood....so here goes...

William Morris was an artist too...on the pic here you can see some of his art...


There is so much going on in this world of us...do we ever stop! and think....think about an ant crossing a road...a caterpillar on a leave...honeybee buzzing on a flower......a bird seeking for crumbs....a newborn calf trying to get up.....newborn kittens struggling their way to their mummy's milk......children with Aids! sleeping hungry, crying for their mums....orphans....are we thinking what difference we can make to other people's lives? Let's start thinking how we can alter our lives to make a change to other people's lives, to bring love, joy and happiness to everybody in the world!

William Morris

Love Is Enough

Love is enough:

though the World be a-waning,

And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,

Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,

Though the hills be held shadows,

and the sea a dark wonder,

And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass'd over,

Yet their hands shall not tremble,

their feet shall not falter;

The void shall not weary,

the fear shall not alter

These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

Morris, William

1834—96, English poet, artist, craftsman, designer, social reformer, and printer. He has long been considered one of the great Victorians and has been called the greatest English designer of the 19th cent. Read more about William Morris here.

Pink and Love---mood

LOVE

Love, I have a few thoughts about love
And I don’t mind sharing them with you.
Love is the hungry vibration of life for fulfilment
Love is the flight of a bee into the flowers of
Spring
Love is life transcending nature and reason, and going
Towards divinity
Love is a charge that powers the current of life and makes it
Flow from man to man
Love is not a game, or a ploy, or a legal contract.
Love is God walking among men, and demanding their worship

Click on the image for a larger view to be able to read...

Love card here

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

Edmund Spenser

One day I wrote her name upon the strand

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay

A mortal thing so to immortalize!

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eek my name be wiped out likewise.

Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,

And in the heavens write your glorious name;

Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,

Our love shall live, and later life renew.

HOW DO I LOVE THEE?

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being an Ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints,--

I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!--

and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~~

I had done this poem in Secondary School and has been my favourite since then!