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Category Archives: Poetry

Observations

~Walking in the Rain; Observations

Walking through that closed, temporarily satiated city
light bleeds through the syrupy air before pooling together, mixing colours in the shimmering liquid display of luminescence
multi storey car parks and cheap neon signs become things of beauty in the rain, the strange distortion of air making things clear to the watcher
yet pleasingly fuzzy around the edges, reminiscent of daguerreotype photos and just as timeless.

The tram lines are silent as the scent of autumn whispers through the trees bordering the graveyard
It greets me unmolested by traffic fumes
the calm of the pristine air for the untried day yet to be experienced in this magical way
for most it will not be.

It’s my own world, the rhythmic lull of the rain, cleansing the ground is my soundtrack home
those wrapped up in bed, lulled to sleep by its romantic nature without knowing this experience unique and enigmatically illusory
my Aloneness in this world only magnified by the possibility of another spectral traveller in the distance, at once both real and imagined
perhaps I am that ghost, suddenly the nature existence is something less tangible.

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Posted by on 04/09/2017 in My Writings, Poetry

 

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Naivety

I can think of nothing further to add to this…

arwenaragornstar

IMG_0570

When I was praying
For the victims
And for the living
Forgiving
Our enemies
Refusing
To give in
To anger
& Hate
I saw Death
Grin
Pick up its scythe
And go on cutting
Indiscriminately
Enthusiastically
All the while
Laughing
At my sheer naivety

Image credit: cheo36.deviantart.com

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Posted by on 30/08/2017 in Poetry

 

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The Bookshop

Here is something I did over at Morgan’s blog, being a nice chap and all, check it out!

Booknvolume

shakinThis blog post is brought to you from the mind of Ste J, book defender/lover/obsessive, knowledge seeker and occasional afternoon napper who can be found https://bookmust.wordpress.com and is always happy to make your acquaintance.

The Bookshop

I

Entering the gateway

quaint handle and ring of the bell

a friendly greeting and the musty scent

that pleasantly assails the senses

II

A world of infinite dreams surrounds

of pirates, distant worlds and lavish parties

each crafted teaming with life and imagination

all waiting to be explored and devoured

III

The ages gather here too

ordered casually together

side by side

covered in dusty patience

IV

Time moves differently here

slowly…

the world outside ceases to be;

the perfect existence

V

And now there is just you

and sound of pages turning

the crackling breaking the silence

adding to that unrivalled atmosphere

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Posted by on 11/02/2017 in My Writings, Poetry

 

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Poetic Finale

Certain things, I know are lacking on this blog such as children’s books, graphic novels and poetry being the three most obvious so this week I have – hopefully – succeeded in my aim to redress one of these failings.  There is something intriguing about a form that packs so much into so little space, each word has to be weighted and measured for its precise purpose and trying to convey that has been a diverting challenge and learning experience.

dartpen

Found at Pixabay.com

Seven posts in seven days has certainly been one heck of a challenge and one that has not only been a lot of fun but also fuelled a love for poetry that I never really knew I had, having more of an eye for the novel in the past.  In choosing (and being chosen by, in one case) writers to feature, I didn’t realise I had amassed such an international flavour of poets until I began gathering my notes and panicking somewhat at my task of adequately capturing each book’s effects on me.

Reading through each one made me think in a different way about what I would write and indeed how I judged each book, with a novel it tends to be a ‘go with the flow and let it all catch up with me somewhere near the end’ job, where I distil it into word chains for the blog but poetry demands each piece is thought upon and understood before moving on.  It was really invigorating and made my squishy brain matter much more malleable for the future.

Poetry makes up some of the best literature out there, The Iliad, The Canterbury Tales, Bhagavad Gita, Through (the looking-glass) to Lewis Carroll, Shakespeare’s Sonnets and the War Poets, and now bloggers there are so much enriching and enduring collections out there that it is often easy to forget how poetry stealthily fill our bookshelves.  Poetry is innate in us and ties tight into our collective histories and cultures and the beauty is tat anybody can have a go themselves or pick up a book and be transported into another mindset.

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Posted by on 14/11/2016 in Poetry

 

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Facts of Life: Reflections on Ignorance and Intelligence – Rehana Shamsi

lifefactsDay six and post six of poetry week, thanks for all the likes and comments so far and please bear with me as I will be around to view your blogs just as soon as I complete my seventh and final post.

Facts of Life: Reflections on Ignorance and Intelligence is the result of Rehana Shamsi’s observations, experiences, and relationship to her former society. Many of the poems bring to the forefront the emotional and psychological trauma caused by men’s traditional dominance over women in majority of South Asian households. Women’s constant struggle to overcome suppression is a major theme covered in this collection of poetry. In addition, Shamsi showcases her perspective on life in general.

Through her captivating and incisive style, she explores joys and sorrows, challenges and choices, and ignorance and intelligence.

After reading Nadeem Alsam’s excellent novel, Maps for Lost Lovers, I didn’t expect to come across something as moving, which confronted the same issues so soon.  Right from the first poem, the reader will find a strong voice that tackles one of the most important issues facing society today, the repression of women and their lack of education.

Shamsi’s experiences are a strong indictment of these failures in society and her remembrances are as difficult to read as it is, not to be angry at the number of girls still subjected to arranged marriages and the horrors that can stem from such ‘deals’.  These social issues seem to almost taken for the norm these days or at least less mentioned by the media for fear of upsetting the hegemony of men that still think this is still acceptable.

The book then takes a turn towards the positive.  After emigrating from the suppressive Pakistan to America, thoughts of a freer life are expressed, one where Shamsi can bring forth her unrestrained reflections on her journey through life.  Structured into parts titled: Awareness after Repression, Gender Disparity, Resurrection, Health, Migration, Family, Facts of Life, Old Age, Bereavement, Nine – Eleven, and Curiosity and Others, each of which will hold a strong resonance for her readers. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on 13/11/2016 in Poetry

 

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Haiku Rhapsodies – Celestine Nudanu

bohemianHaiku as a genre is less known on the Ghanaian literary landscape. Against this background, the publication of HAIKU RHAPSODIES, (verses from Ghana) by Celestine Nudanu is very timely and historic. HAIKU RHAPSODIES explores a field where no Ghanaian poet has ever published in hard print. Hence Celestine Nudanu’s work distinguishes her as a trailblazer among her contemporaries. And most notably HAIKU RHAPSODIES comes in at the opportune time to answer the world call for haiku to be added to UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage.

HAIKU RHAPSODIES is a finely structured book arranged under the following themes; Afriku, Nature, Haiku My Heart, the Divine and Death. Through these themes, Celestine Nudanu succeeds in transporting the reader into her world by creating animated, serene and yet powerful scenes. At the same time, the poet draws the reader into the complex yet fascinating phenomena of what life is all about; Love, Death, Spirituality and Life itself. The beauty lies in her skill of brevity as a haiku poet. She writes with elegance, using few words which like magic are enchanting, leaving the reader exhilarated and wanting more.

Celestine is a prolific writer of poetry, plenty of which is showcased on her blog, Reading Pleasure.  After gaining a fan base in the past few years, a book was a welcome treat for her readers.  C’s work has featured in many international Haiku publications and as such is already well recognised within the Haiku community.

With clear imagery, each bite sized piece is simply written but layered with visual beauty and thoughts personal to the author, this intimate showcasing allows the reader to see a place through Celestine’s eyes.  The concepts of the world around her is brought to us in a series delightful vignettes which read like a moment captured in time. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on 12/11/2016 in Poetry

 

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Rilke’s First Duino Elegy

Sharing with you my fine friends, a piece of work that I really enjoy for a myriad of reasons.  The words of which speak for themselves in all their transcendental beauty, enjoy.

Rilke

The First Elegy

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Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angelic

Orders? And even if one were to suddenly

take me to its heart, I would vanish into its

stronger existence. For beauty is nothing but

the beginning of terror, that we are still able to bear,

and we revere it so, because it calmly disdains

to destroy us. Every Angel is terror.

And so I hold myself back and swallow the cry

of a darkened sobbing. Ah, who then can

we make use of? Not Angels: not men,

and the resourceful creatures see clearly

that we are not really at home

in the interpreted world. Perhaps there remains

some tree on a slope, that we can see

again each day: there remains to us yesterday’s street,

and the thinned-out loyalty of a habit

that liked us, and so stayed, and never departed.

Oh, and the night, the night, when the wind full of space

wears out our faces – whom would she not stay for,

the longed-for, gentle, disappointing one, whom the solitary heart

with difficulty stands before. Is she less heavy for lovers?

Ah, they only hide their fate between themselves.

Do you not know yet? Throw the emptiness out of your arms

to add to the spaces we breathe; maybe the birds

will feel the expansion of air, in more intimate flight.

#

Yes, the Spring-times needed you deeply. Many a star

must have been there for you so you might feel it. A wave

lifted towards you out of the past, or, as you walked

past an open window, a violin

gave of itself. All this was their mission.

But could you handle it? Were you not always,

still, distracted by expectation, as if all you experienced,

like a Beloved, came near to you? (Where could you contain her,

with all the vast strange thoughts in you

going in and out, and often staying the night.)

But if you are yearning, then sing the lovers: for long

their notorious feelings have not been immortal enough.

Those, you almost envied them, the forsaken, that you

found as loving as those who were satisfied. Begin,

always as new, the unattainable praising:

think: the hero prolongs himself, even his falling

was only a pretext for being, his latest rebirth.

But lovers are taken back by exhausted Nature

into herself, as if there were not the power

to make them again. Have you remembered

Gastara Stampa sufficiently yet, that any girl,

whose lover has gone, might feel from that

intenser example of love: ‘Could I only become like her?’

Should not these ancient sufferings be finally

fruitful for us? Isn’t it time that, loving,

we freed ourselves from the beloved, and, trembling, endured

as the arrow endures the bow, so as to be, in its flight,

something more than itself? For staying is nowhere. Read the rest of this entry »

 
28 Comments

Posted by on 11/11/2016 in Poetry

 

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