Posts Tagged: Poetry

materia poetica

On 14 October 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Artists, Inspiration, Kenneth White, Poetry

Live slowly

On 12 October 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Artists, Candle, Colour, Feelings, Leunig, Light, Poetry, Prayer

National poetry day LIGHT

On 8 October 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Autumn slowly draws the curtain of long nights

Flowers, Garden, Light, Months of the Year, Poetry, Seasons, Yellow

The Shell by Molly Drake

On 25 September 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Living grows round us
like a skin,
to shut away
the outer desolation

For if we clearly mark
the furthest deep,
we should be dead
long years before the grave

But turning around
within the homely shell
of worry, discontent
and narrow joy,
we grow and flourish
and rarely see
the outside dark
that would
confound our eyes

Some break the shell

I think that they are those
who push their fingers
through the brittle walls
and make a hole

And through this cruel slit
they stare out across
the cinders of the world
with naked eyes

They look both out and in
Knowing themselves
and too much else besides

Everyday, Feelings, Molly Drake, Poetry, This Side and Beyond, Women

Love by George Herbert

On 16 September 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Love bade me welcome ; yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sin.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From m’y first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.
A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here.
Love said, You shall be he.
I, the unkinde, ungrateful ? Ah, my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand and smiling did reply :
Who made the eyes, but I ?
Truth, Lord ; but I have marr’d them : let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love ; who bore the blame ?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat.
So I did sit and eat.

George Herbert (1593 - 1633)

Simone Weil, the French philosopher, dearly loved this poem by George Herbert, and it was instrumental in her approach to christianity. She wrote in a letter to Joë BOUSQUET:

Je vous mets ci-joint le poème anglais que je vous avais récité, Love; il a joué un grand rôle dans ma vie, car j'étais occupée à me le réciter à moi-même, à ce moment où, pour la première fois, le Christ est venu me prendre. Je croyais ne faire que redire un beau poème, et à mon insu c'était une prière. (799)

I hereby include the English poem that I recited to you, Love; it played a big role in my life, for I was busy reciting it to myself at the moment when, for the first time, Christ came to take me. I believed I was merely resaying a beautiful poem, and unbeknownst to myself, it was a prayer.

Children, Feelings, George Herbert, Love, Poetry

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – Emily Dickinson

On 7 July 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Annecy, Artists, Emily Dickinson, Feelings, France, Museums, Poetry, Translation

Touch by Blaga Dimitrova

On 15 May 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Everything is divided up with boundary line,
which is a contact to something else.

the stem is imprisoned in bark –
Through it, feels both wind and rain.

The fish is armoured with scales –
through them it senses the sound of waves.

The sea is clamped by shores –
through them it touches the thirsty land.

I am nailed within a woman’s skin –
through it I know caress and wound.

We contact the world
only through our boundaries.

And in becoming more boundless,
we will become more lonely.

(1988)
Blaga Dimitrova

Blaga Dimitrova, Colour, Feelings, Flowers, Poetry

Prayer for Springtime

On 9 April 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Dear God,

We celebrate spring’s returning and the rejuvenation of the natural world.
Let us be moved by this vast and gentle insistence that goodness shall return,
that warmth and life shall succeed.
Help us to understand our place in this miracle.
Let us see that as a bird now builds its nest, bravely,
with bits and piece, so we must build human faith.
It is our simple duty;
it is the highest art;
it is our natural and vital role within the miracle of spring;
the creation of faith.

Amen

Michael Leunig When I Talk to You: A Cartoonist Talks to God

Earth, Leunig, Poetry, Seasons

Envol et Enracinement

On 8 March 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

Air, Children, Earth, Poetry, Tales, Translation

A Wake

On 13 January 2015 by Margot Krebs Neale - Uncategorized

For U + Z
Sometimes, in this, my winter, the fall of sunlight across my face
Recalls a summer more lovely than has ever been, or will.
And then all night I heard it, a rattle from the road
From some loose drain as the cars passed over;
It couldn’t interrupt my sleep, because I had none,
Lying there, waiting for the light and birds to come.
I had no idea what this wakefulness might portend,
This endless restless attention to detail, sleepless;
My whole life spent trying to understand
The fractured meaning of objects, and my
Dreadful inclusion amongst them. Oh, our stupid whim
To run away, to flee this specific and ordered world,
And be vanquished, ravished, like light or birds,
And welcome the morning through their undying hymn.

Nicholas Worskett

Artists, Feelings, Light, Nicholas Worskett, Poetry

Newer Entries — Older Entries

Posts Tagged: Poetry

materia poetica

The "known" materials of my life

Live slowly

National poetry day LIGHT

Autumn slowly draws the curtain of long nights

The Shell by Molly Drake

Living grows round us
like a skin,
to shut away
the outer desolation

For if we clearly mark
the furthest deep,
we should be dead
long years before the grave

But turning around
within the homely shell
of worry, discontent
and narrow joy,
we grow and flourish
and rarely see
the outside dark
that would
confound our eyes

Some break the shell

I think that they are those
who push their fingers
through the brittle walls
and make a hole

And through this cruel slit
they stare out across
the cinders of the world
with naked eyes

They look both out and in
Knowing themselves
and too much else besides

Love by George Herbert

LOVE

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – Emily Dickinson

In The Poems of Emily Dickinson edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)
Traduction Margot Krebs Neale

Touch by Blaga Dimitrova

Touch

Prayer for Springtime

Envol et Enracinement

A Wake

A Wake

Posts Tagged: Poetry

The "known" materials of my life

Autumn slowly draws the curtain of long nights

Living grows round us like a skin, to shut away the outer desolation

For if we clearly mark the furthest deep, we should be dead long years before the grave

But turning around within the homely shell of worry, discontent and narrow joy, we grow and flourish and rarely see the outside dark that would confound our eyes

Some break the shell

I think that they are those who push their fingers through the brittle walls and make a hole

And through this cruel slit they stare out across the cinders of the world with naked eyes

They look both out and in Knowing themselves and too much else besides

LOVE

In The Poems of Emily Dickinson edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999) Traduction Margot Krebs Neale

Touch

A Wake

Living grows round us
like a skin,
to shut away
the outer desolation

For if we clearly mark
the furthest deep,
we should be dead
long years before the grave

But turning around
within the homely shell
of worry, discontent
and narrow joy,
we grow and flourish
and rarely see
the outside dark
that would
confound our eyes

I think that they are those
who push their fingers
through the brittle walls
and make a hole

And through this cruel slit
they stare out across
the cinders of the world
with naked eyes

They look both out and in
Knowing themselves
and too much else besides

In The Poems of Emily Dickinson edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)
Traduction Margot Krebs Neale