Poets in breeding

©copyright2013owpp

Clubs and bookmarks
Strolls in the park
Gatherings and readings
Poets in breeding.
Rays of sun
Caressing for fun
Words on pages
Whispered through the ages
No food nor beverages
Just words that amazes
This circle sitting on grass
Oblivious to movement or mass
Floating through time
Echos that chime
Eras, epochs and lives
Of people born and died
Sharing poetry as one
Phrases built to run
Wildly in the mind of some.
Lovers of architects lining
The hopes of the ones not daring
To take the quill and stroll
Through the minds and ghosts
Of bookclubs and whispers
Caressing the pages
Through the ages…
__________________

P.s This is wishful thinking 🙂
I searched so long for such a group & never found one.

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The writer 1989- Adjusted January 2013

writer’s block

The writer
————-

Indelible hole
Irreplaceable void
Lassitude and
Despair.

Impossible
To share
He monologues
Relentlessly

The same
Refrain
Gripping
This trough

The void
Resented.
He shouts
And screams

Silently.
Appealing
Petitioning
For a truce

Reconciliation
To his page
The ink
Ingested

Words devoured
Ingurgitated
By the secrecy
Taciturnity

Of his folio
Yet faithful
As a blotter
Absorbing

His pain
Tears
Anguish
Inhabiting his

Restlessness.
Wanting
To notice
Dewdrops

Snowflakes
Perfume of
A flower tree.
Rainbows

The miracle
Of crepuscule
Intact
Brightness

Of a first
Layer of snow
Thaumaturgy
Of aurora

Smile of
A passer-by
Simple
And grand

Big and small
Opposite yet
Complementary
The Sui generis

Marvel
Of our planet
For one hour
Or more

To find relief
In his new
Felicity.
His thoughts

Bouncing off
The walls
Hurling this
Delicacy

This tribute
To life.
Back with
Ferocity.

Stunning him
For a fraction
Then taking
His page

Renew
The treatise
In a last attempt
To capture

The truth
Of his life
The one he can
Put on his

Faithful page.

Words- 1995 adjusted on January 2013

Stacked books vendor Venice
©copyright2013owpp

stacked books closer view
©copyright2013owpp

The clarity of the second photo is not that good as it was taken in a passing by second.

Words
——-

Poems
Essays
Relieves
Retrieves

Words
More words
Always
Words
——
Evade
Escape
Barely
Words

The reality
Of the mind.
Skip over
Routine,

Constraint.
Simply
BE- Have
A future
———
An island
Where danger
Has no authority
Health a guaranty

Where company
Suffices
Linked
To nothing

Married
To nature
Time of
No language

Peace
And felicity
Rules
Flows

Serenely
Going forth
With
Plenitude.

Ripe and
Mature
As a fruit
Grown old

Wrinkled
And wise.
Traces of a
Chosen and

Merited life
At peace
With oneself
Infinitely.

Words
Always Words…
To anticipate
Establish

My life
Yours
Create
Our wishes.

The impracticality of distance February 1996 readjusted to a prose January 2013

Lido 2012
©copyright2013owpp

Those are writings from the 1990’s which I thought I’d never use due to my
lack of experience then, in writing but to my delight and surprise ( I do
surprise even myself! ) I got down to work on Sunday, took the core and changed
it totally using the words that cried out in attention and putting it in a prose
versus the article it was. I was astonished and

pleased at the result which shows, there is always a time for anything we write,
given we have patience and believe anything is possible with a drop of will 🙂

The impracticality of distance
———————————

One O’clock
All is silent
Each one
Long gone
In their own
Planet of dreams

My mind floats
To many ports
One of them yours.
I think how
Far away
You too are long gone

In your world
Your vision
Inhabiting one
So strange to me.
Doing those same things
Void of mystery.

Eventful or not
Working, unwinding
So simple, so alive
What life is all about.
Practical
And tumultuous.

The ink flows
On my pages
Engraving words
Buried deep
Silence surrounding
This cubicle of thoughts.

Trying to make sense
Of life, of my love
For you.
They are there
Fooling me
Appeasing you

Erasing the,
Impracticality
The impossibility
Of distance.
Secrets of the night,
Leaving the world

Of darkness
Drifting toward
Daylight waking
To sunshine
Bracing a day
With the stamina

Of a professional.
Cold sometimes
Suppressing it,
Wanting to bury
Under covers
Your ingenuity.

Recognizable
Routine
To the bare eyes
Yet different.
By the impracticality
Of distance.

Bill Moyers interview with Ursula K. LeGuin about “Lathe of Heaven”

There are interviews where you immediately shut off when the interviewer
starts asking his questions to the interviewee.

Others where you feel the chemistry running and are hooked till
the last word is said. This is how I felt when I saw this one with Bill
Moyers interviewing Ursula K. Leguin.

He managed to bring out her rich personality, listening to her is captivating.
She reaches out to the listener and makes them feel a kinship to her ideas about
writing a book, her characters, her peaceful way of thinking about life, growth,
wisdom…

I could go on and on… In short it’s a very interesting video to watch for
those curious about the literate world and professionals.

Enjoy and let me know what YOU think about it 🙂

——————-

Published on May 2, 2012
Bill Moyers intertview with Ursula K. LeGuin concerning the PBS
movie adaptation of her novel “Lathe of Heaven”.

92Y Video From The Poetry Center Archives: Ian Frazier And John McPhee

Gabi Coatsworth is the one who introduced me to
the discovery of John Mc Phee when she reblogged
an article about him which was fascinating by just
a small published piece of an article he wrote. It
Came from the Fairfield Writer’s blog.

Indirectly, with this interview, I got to Ian Frazier,
who is a charismatic person in his own right and I am
sure going to look up soon enough his works too.

I then, looked John Mc Phee up on You tube and couldn’t get
enough interviews of him…

He is witty, fascinating in the knowledge that pours
out from him and a huge talent in the literate world.

I hope you will enjoy this delightful time you’ll spend
watching 🙂

————–

Uploaded on Jul 29, 2011
92Y Poetry: http://www.92y.org/Uptown/Tisch-Center-for-the-Arts/Unterberg-Poetry-Center?e…

Last December, Ian Frazier and John McPhee—two of The New Yorker’s best “place-profilers”— appeared at 92nd Street Y’s Unterberg Poetry Center to read from their new books: Frazier’s Travels in Siberia and McPhee’s Silk Parachute.

After their readings, the two writers were interviewed by Mark Singer, and today’s video features an excerpt from that conversation, which ranges from the origins of their recent work to how they’ve influenced each other over the years.

Read more on the 92Y Blog: http://blog.92y.org/index.php/weblog/item/from_the_poetry_center_archives_ian…
Category
Entertainment
License
Standard YouTube License

Ruth stone Follow up of Elizabeth Gilbert

Three posts ago I gave you a video of Elizabeth Gilbert on TED
where she mentioned the genius of a certain Ruth Stone which
I obviously looked up on you tube out of curiosity.

What I found was a rare gem in the world of poetry.

She is a unique pearl where words magically pour out from her mouth.
There is a book on Amazon called What love comes to.
One can leaf through the first few pages.
A writer Sharon Olds describes her talent beautifully so I will
elaborate no further.

Meanwhile, enjoy this piece of heaven 🙂

———–

Uploaded on May 21, 2009
Ruth Stone is a true American original. Now aged 93, she is still writing poetry of extraordinary variety and radiance. Pamela Robertson-Pearce filmed her in Vermont in September 2008. Ruth is almost blind but knows many of her poems by heart, and recites (or sings) several poems in this short film (prompted occasionally by editor Neil Astley). Born in Virginia in 1915, she has lived in rural Vermont for much of her life. In 1959, after her husband committed suicide, she had to raise three daughters alone, all the time writing what she called her love poems, all written to a dead man who forced her to ‘reside in limbo’ with her daughters. The poems are all from her recent retrospective WHAT LOVE COMES TO: NEW & SELECTED POEMS: ‘In an Iridescent Time’, ‘Orchard’, ‘The Talking Fish’, ‘The Excuse’, ‘Advice’, ‘I Have Three Daughters’ (which she sings), ‘Mantra’ and ‘The Season’. The poems are included here by permission of her publishers Copper Canyon Press in the US and Bloodaxe Books in the UK. For more details, see: http://www.bloodaxebooks.com/titlepage.asp?isbn=1852248416

Good times, what a blessing! Nov. 2012 ( oa essay )

Good times…
©copyright2013owpp

This essay was coming out of the low moments as a result of doing what I have most pleasure in doing. Writing and painting and sharing it on the blog. Music and photography will have to wait until I start feeling more comfortable with those .

Good times
————-

Does it occur to us that sometimes our writings have a tremendous amount of despair or self-abuse described?
Writing is for everyone liberating. It is the first thing that comes to our mind when hurt gnaws at us. At the end of the page we feel cleansed.
But could we focus for once on the times rays of rationality beam through? The days we tuck in fourteen hours of work, feel tired but so alive?
Get so absorbed in our task that we forget about food and eat solely for the physical energy. What a blessing, what a truce! So much easier than the fight.
What about the enthusiasm, the love and joy we spread around, the closeness to our cherished ones and the protective wings we encircle them with, the peace felt, by doing small and seemingly insignificant tasks that feel grand to us?
Small is sometimes big.
Is that not a far brighter subject?
The saying goes “without obscurity we would not see the light“
Appreciation comes from the lack of… Had we not gone without in the past, how could we know what is here now?

This essay is dedicated to all those in recovery. To a world of people who have the courage and audacity to face and work on their imperfections, which everyone has.

To them I bow and wish to give an apercu, a glimmer of what can be, with a bit of tenacity.

Be strong, do not bend to what you would call our darker moments yet, be flexible and undulate with the current, it will lead you to quiet sparkles, to serene bliss and undetected Nirvana.

Can we believe? I do.

That is the journey I took many years ago. Every year I believe I have found all the truth that exists and every year I am proved wrong. There is always some more…

There are many ways that lead to Rome. To a few, it will be wisdom, others, knowledge or experience, which is the best teacher of all, it will lead you to the light brought by comprehension… To that instant of clarity, the split second where it all fits…

The doors open and you walk in a state of…

Life is worth living for, the past trials were all worth it, for this inner-discovery. No loud trumpets, no explosive fireworks, just, THIS… NOW…

And that is all that matters.