Poetry

Visual arts, music, poetry and other forms of art.
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obnoxion
Posts: 1806
Joined: Tue May 25, 2010 7:59 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by obnoxion »

Omoksha wrote: had not heard or read of Coleridge saying this
You can find it from the second edition of "English Romantic Poets" (edited by the eminent M. H. Abrams), page 217, in an essay "The Ancient Mariner" by Humphrey House.
I was studying the rhythm and metre of the ancient Greeks - in both their music and poetry, of which there was/is little, if any distinction between - and then its use in the much later compositional works of Olivier Messiaen.
Essentially, I came to think that it was within the compositions that Messiaen based around/made from bird song that his understanding and use of ancient Greek metre lay.

In short, ancient Greek metre (poetically and musically) was arranged in ‘feet’, which predominantly comprised of two rhythmic stresses; a long and a short syllable, arranged in different orders and amounts, depending on the poetic/musical type. Embellishments and specifics of how to relate these were used, but essentially one would interpret the metre of a poem or a piece of music by the rhythmic stresses identified by these long and short syllable markings.
Therefore, only rhythmic stress was suggested, rather than rigid form dictated by the note lengths, commas and many forms of grammatical and compositional instruction that tell us how to create, and to interpret creation, today.

Looking for the known use of such free metre within a composer working within the confines and instruction of modern Western classical music is therefore almost fanatical and certainly idealistic at times. One can almost interpret anything as one wishes, so to find the actual root of this free metre is almost impossible.
But it is within Messiaen’s compositions that derive from birdsong - which I feel are so much more like poetry than music - where I think the key to this is. He took something so metrically spontaneous and dynamic, and employed among the most free form of understanding metre that we as humans have developed, to express its beauty but not limit its form.
Well, this sounds just fascinating! I have of course heard of The Language of the Birds, but this is the first I hear of Prosodia of the Birds. This whole topic reminds me of Gabriel d'Annunzios "panism", of which the perfect example is his "The rain in the Pinewood" from his best collection of poems, "Halcyon". According to "Facts on File Companion to World Poetry" panism is "the ability to experience the vinrant life of nature in one's body and soul". In the above mentioned poem, d'Annunzio uses onometopesia and mimetics from nature to the degree where he and his companion completely merge with nature. He introduces this state by adopting in his poetry the changing rythms from the droplets of water. I suppose the the full effect could best be experrienced from the original Italian poem, but I like the translation very much, as I am naturally very attuned to its rythm:
https://www.lifeinabruzzo.com/the-rain- ... el-pineto/
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
Yinlong
Posts: 121
Joined: Sat Feb 27, 2016 5:12 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by Yinlong »

Listening to Marilyn Manson: somehow after breaking up you go back to your high school music. Yeah, not surprising, I wasn't "high school musical" type of person :P

Prick your finger it is done...
the moon has now eclipsed the sun...
the angel has spread its wings...
the time has come for bitter things


I would like to change this to the following form though already:

Count your fingers it is done...
the moon has now eclipsed the sun...
the angel has spread its wings...
the time has come for better things


I hope mr. M. Manson would agree with me. And I've been crying a lot. It's been years since I have truly done so.
Quaerendo Invenietis - Na dìomhcuimhnich a-chaoidh - Feuer frei!
obnoxion
Posts: 1806
Joined: Tue May 25, 2010 7:59 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by obnoxion »

Yinlong wrote:Listening to Marilyn Manson: somehow after breaking up you go back to your high school music. Yeah, not surprising, I wasn't "high school musical" type of person :P

Prick your finger it is done...
the moon has now eclipsed the sun...
the angel has spread its wings...
the time has come for bitter things


I would like to change this to the following form though already:

Count your fingers it is done...
the moon has now eclipsed the sun...
the angel has spread its wings...
the time has come for better things


I hope mr. M. Manson would agree with me. And I've been crying a lot. It's been years since I have truly done so.
I was into Antichrist Superstar back in the day, and I still consider MM to be a great artist, though perhaps a bit too extravagant and postmodern for my current taste.

Breaking up hurts so much, especially after a long relationship. At least for me, the first two weeks are the hardest. It feels like loosing a limb or some large inner organ. I still remember my first break up (I suppose I will never forget it...) I built her a shrine, I wrote her name on my wall, I cried all night, couldn't eat... On top of that, I cought mononucleosis, and my throat was so sore that I had to spit in a cup, because I coouldn't even swallow my own saliva. And you know what, I bet that too was just one of the symptoms of my broken heart. But after two weeks I had grown embarassed of the the shrine and all that. And though I eventually had to fall in love again to get over it, it got much easier real quick. And that was one of the most important things I learnt in the 90's.
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
obnoxion
Posts: 1806
Joined: Tue May 25, 2010 7:59 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by obnoxion »

I usually post on this forum by phone. But today I took out my laptop just to post a poem by Robert Browning, called "Porphyria's Lover". Please notice that we have had more posts this morning on this topic, dealing with Marilyn manson lyrics and break-ups.

I think the Brownings - both Robert and his wife Elizabet Barret Browning - are very interesting poets. Elizabeth's realization that "Christ's religion is essentially poetry—poetry glorified" is exactly what I learnt from William Blake whan I was a school boy. Now Robert, on the other hand, has an amazing insight into morbid psychological states. For example, his poem "Porphyria's lover" must be one of the best descriptions of homicidal psychopathia available. It also has an interesting rythmic structure of A/B/A/B/B, which makes the endings of the sentences sort of bounding and weighty.

I cannot get the structure of the lines right by copy-paste, so you can go read it in Poetry Foundation:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... rias-lover
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
Yinlong
Posts: 121
Joined: Sat Feb 27, 2016 5:12 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by Yinlong »

obnoxion wrote:I usually post on this forum by phone. But today I took out my laptop just to post a poem by Robert Browning, called "Porphyria's Lover". Please notice that we have had more posts this morning on this topic, dealing with Marilyn manson lyrics and break-ups.

I think the Brownings - both Robert and his wife Elizabet Barret Browning - are very interesting poets. Elizabeth's realization that "Christ's religion is essentially poetry—poetry glorified" is exactly what I learnt from William Blake whan I was a school boy. Now Robert, on the other hand, has an amazing insight into morbid psychological states. For example, his poem "Porphyria's lover" must be one of the best descriptions of homicidal psychopathia available. It also has an interesting rythmic structure of A/B/A/B/B, which makes the endings of the sentences sort of bounding and weighty.

I cannot get the structure of the lines right by copy-paste, so you can go read it in Poetry Foundation:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... rias-lover
Ok, this was so good, beautiful and fitting that I will print it with some beautiful type face to my kitchen wall and get really nice frames around it.
Quaerendo Invenietis - Na dìomhcuimhnich a-chaoidh - Feuer frei!
obnoxion
Posts: 1806
Joined: Tue May 25, 2010 7:59 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by obnoxion »

Yinlong wrote:Ok, this was so good, beautiful and fitting that I will print it with some beautiful type face to my kitchen wall and get really nice frames around it.
What an adorably sociopathic thing to do, to have a poem about strangling one's sweetheart with her own hair, hanging in nice frames on the old kitchen wall! ;)
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
Yinlong
Posts: 121
Joined: Sat Feb 27, 2016 5:12 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by Yinlong »

obnoxion wrote:
Yinlong wrote:Ok, this was so good, beautiful and fitting that I will print it with some beautiful type face to my kitchen wall and get really nice frames around it.
What an adorably sociopathic thing to do, to have a poem about strangling one's sweetheart with her own hair, hanging in nice frames on the old kitchen wall! ;)
Haha, well, something about my kitchen tells that I named the theme "Black metal and Ballerinas". There's, for example, a print of a skull that contains slightly radioactive paint :P Though, I think I don't have the Alice in Wonderland with recently cut heads anymore... Maybe because I have turned to more vegetarian diet. And that was a maybe a bit too much. But it reminded of things...

Image
Quaerendo Invenietis - Na dìomhcuimhnich a-chaoidh - Feuer frei!
obnoxion
Posts: 1806
Joined: Tue May 25, 2010 7:59 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by obnoxion »

What a beautiful invitation to lose one's head! The symbolism of beheading is for me one of the most intimate and meaningful things. A severed head is like an euphenism for a burning heart. Thank you for sharing, fra Yinlong!
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
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Heith
Posts: 699
Joined: Fri May 31, 2013 12:54 pm

Re: Poetry

Post by Heith »

Take, Oh, Take Those Lips Away
BY JOHN FLETCHER


Take, oh, take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn
And those eyes, like break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, though sealed in vain.

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears;
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.
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Nefastos
Posts: 3029
Joined: Mon May 24, 2010 10:05 am
Location: Helsinki

Re: Poetry

Post by Nefastos »

El centinela

Entra la luz y me recuerdo; ahí está.
Empieza por decirme su nombre, que es ya se entiende) el mío.
Vuelvo a la esclavitud que ha durado más de siete veces diez años.
Me impone su memoria.
Me impone las miserias de cada día, la condición humana.
Soy su viejo enfermero; me obliga a que le lave los pies.
Me acecha en los espejos, en la caoba, en los cristales de las tiendas.
Una u otra mujer lo ha rechazado y debo compartir su congoja.
Me dicta ahora este poema, que no me gusta.
Me exige el nebuloso aprendizaje del terco anglosajón.
Me ha convertido al culto idolátrico de militares muertos, con los
que acaso no podría cambiar una sola palabra.
En el último tramo de la escalera siento que está a mi lado.
Está en mis pasos, en mi voz.
Minuciosamente lo odio.
Advierto con fruición que casi no ve.
Estoy en una celda circular y el infinito muro se estrecha.
Ninguno de los dos engaña al otro, pero los dos mentimos.
Nos conocemos demasiado, inseparablemente hermano.
Bebes el agua de mi copa y devoras mi pan.
La puerta del suicida está abierta, pero los teólogos afirman que
en la sombra ulterior del otro reino estaré yo, esperándome.

(Jorge Luis Borges: El oro de los tigres, 1972)

===

The Watcher



The light enters and I remember who I am; he is there.
He begins by telling me his name which (it should now be clear) is mine.
I revert to the servitude which has lasted more than seven times ten years.
He saddles me with his rememberings.
He saddles me with the miseries of every day, the human condition.
I am his old nurse; he requires me to wash his feet.
He spies on me in mirrors, in mahogany, in shop windows.
One or another woman has rejected him, and I must share his anguish.
He dictates to me now this poem, which I do not like.
He insists I apprentice myself tentatively to the stubborn Anglo-Saxon.
He has won me over to the hero worship of dead soldiers, people with whom I could
scarcely exchange a single word.
On the last flight of stairs, I feel him at my side.
He is in my footsteps, in my voice.
Down to the last detail, I abhor him.
I am gratified to remark that he can hardly see.
I am in a circular cell and the infinite wall is closing in.
Neither of the two deceives the other, but we both lie.
We know each other too well, inseparable brother.
You drink the water from my cup and you wolf down my bread.
The door to suicide is open, but theologians assert that, in the subsequent shadows of the
other kingdom, there will I be, waiting for myself.

(Transl. Alastair Reid)
Faust: "Lo contempla. / Ei muove in tortuosa spire / e s'avvicina lento alla nostra volta. / Oh! se non erro, / orme di foco imprime al suol!"
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