unique verse

Sonnet 94 - William Shakespeare

2009-12-28T21:03:00.000-08:00

They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Espelho/Mirror

2009-09-20T00:03:00.000-07:00

Espelho
teu vulto,
Tantas faces em mim.
Sem esquecer,
Teu sorriso,
Mil e uma
Noites
Sem você.

O que dizer,
Que já não tenha sido dito.
Você,
em mil palavras,
Nomes,
Feios e bonitos.
Um amor como o meu,
Vão,
Em tantos amores seus.

(2002/2009)

***********************************************
Mirror
Your image,
Many faces in me.
Unforgettable,
Your smile,
A thousand and one
Nights
Without you.

What to say,
That has not been said before.
You,
in a thousand words,
Names,
Beautiful and ugly.
A love like mine,
Gone,
In many lovers of yours.

(2002/2009)

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

PROUD of my broken heart since thou didst break it,

Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,

Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,

Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

(Emily Dickinson - XXXV- Love - Part three)

10 Species Near Extinction

2009-07-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1888702,00.html

Getting People to Coexist with Cats

2009-07-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

Getting People to Coexist with Cats

I despair over the thought that I may have hurt you

2008-10-22T05:34:00.000-07:00

In love, they say, there's no fear

Mine terrifies me

and puzzles the rest

I foolishly intend

To make my love more legitimate

By hiding it away

Sparing you

yet another unsolicited adorer

In love, they say, all is fair

How dare someone reduce

love to fear?

Not wanting to hurt you

Is that I may have hurt you more

and hurting you I despair

I pride in my sensible judgement

But all you see

Is a coward with noble intentions

I have been on this road

I have felt my pride

Wearing my heart out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death.'

Mark Twain

Me Gustas Quando Callas - Pablo Neruda

2008-10-04T22:14:00.000-07:00

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,

y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.

Parece que los ojos se te hubieren volado

y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma

emerges de las cosas, llena de alma mía.

Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,

y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.

Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.

Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.

Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:

Déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.

Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio

claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.

Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.

Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.

Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.

Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.

Y estoy alegre de que no sea cierto.

English

I like you when you are still because it is as if you were absent,

and you hear me from afar, and my voice does not touch you.

Your eyes seem to have flown

And a kiss seems to have closed your mouth.

Like all things that are filled with my soul

You emerge from the things, filled with my soul.

Butterfly of your dream, you are like my soul,

and you are like a sad world.

I like you when you are still and it is as if you are distant.

And it is as if you are complaining, a butterfly cooing.

And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you.

Allow me to be still in your silence.

Allow me to speak to you, too, with your silence

clear like a lamp, simple like a ring.

You are like the night, still and constellated.

Your silence is that of a star, as distant and plain.

I like when you are still because it is as if you are absent.

Remote and sad as if you had died.

One word then, one smile suffices.

And I am happy, happy that is not certain.

Translation by Alice M.Sun-Cua

Sweet gentle kiss

2008-06-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

Morte A Venezia - Luchino Visconti

2008-02-28T20:20:00.000-08:00

Luchino Visconti

Morte a Venezia

Death in Venice

Sonnet XXI - Pablo Neruda

2008-01-25T20:24:00.000-08:00

If only love would spread its savor through me!
--not to go one moment without spring!
What I sold into sorrow was only my hands,
dearest: now leave me with your kisses.
Shut out the month’s light with your fragrance;
close all the doors with your hair.
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying
it’s only in my dreams I’m a lost child
hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands,
for your caresses like the wheat,
the flashing rapture of shadow and energy.
O my dearest, nothing but shadow there
where you walk with me through your dream:
you tell me when the light returns.
(From 100 Love Sonnets, Morning, SONNET XXI, by Pablo Neruda)
(Translated by Stephen Tapscott)

Le Ravissement de Psyche

2007-11-09T19:15:00.000-08:00

William Bouguereau

Casa de los Ossos (House of the Bones) - Gaudi

2007-10-06T23:20:00.000-07:00

Detail of Casa Batlo, in Barcelona, also known as Casa de los Ossos (House of the Bones), architectural evidence of a genius called Antoni Gaudi.

2007-08-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

I am drowning
In sleepless nights
In blues and greens
In silly things
I am drowning
In distress
In pictures that no longer exist
In raging waters
In me
I am drowning
In jealousy
In fear
In my raging passionality

(nameless poem - by SoniaP)

King Copetua And The Beggar Maid

2007-08-18T23:40:00.000-07:00

Edmund Blair Leighton

King Copetua and the Beggar Maid

A sonnet by Pablo Neruda

2007-07-28T23:47:00.000-07:00

Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

(Sonnet XLV)

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

(Pablo Neruda, from his 'One Hundred Love Sonnets')

Jugendstil Art Deco

2007-07-28T23:32:00.000-07:00

A Lyric from an Unpublished Play - W.B. Yeats

2007-07-15T19:11:00.000-07:00

'Put off that mask of burning gold

With emerald eyes.'

'O no, my dear, you make so bold

To find if hearts be wild and wise,

And yet not cold.'

'I would but find what's there to find,

Love or deceit.'

'It was the mask engaged your mind,

And after set your heart to beat,

Not what's behind.'

'But lest you are me enemy,

I must enquire.'

'O no, my dear, let all that be,

What matter, so there is but fire

In you, in me?'

(W.B.Yeats - A Lyric from an Unfinished Play, from the book 'The Green Helmet and Other Poems')

The Kiss - Francesco Hayez

2007-07-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francesco_Hayez

2007-06-12T17:20:00.000-07:00

"O que será que uns olhos têm

que os outros não têm?

O que será que uma boca tem

que as outras bocas não têm?"

(Frase do filme "todas as mulheres do mundo" de Domingos de Oliveira)

What is it that certain eyes have got

that other eyes haven't got?

What is it that certain lips have got

that other lips haven't got?

(From the movie "todas as mulheres do mundo" by Domingos de Oliveira,

English version by Sonia P.)

Chinese Art

2007-05-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

Qiu Shi Hua (*1940), Untitled, 1999, oil on canvas

This painting is a delicate piece of art, it depicts a small wood, and you have to look at it from the side and very carefully to see the beauty of it.

This is from Uli Sigg's collection of contemporary chinese art.
I just saw that at an exhibition at CCBB.

2007-03-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive . . . and impoverished.

(Roland Barthes)

The Mirror

2007-02-17T17:20:00.000-08:00

John W. Godward

Dindi - Antonio Carlos Jobim

2007-01-29T16:11:00.001-08:00

Dindi

(Antonio Carlos Jobim - Ray Gilbert)

Sky, so vast is the sky, with far away clouds just wandering by

Where do they go, oh I don't know, don't know

Wind that speaks to the leaves telling stories that no one believes

Stories of love belong to you and to me

Oh Dindi, if I only had words I would say

all the beautiful things that I see

when you're with me, oh my Dindi

Oh Dindi, like the song of the wind in the trees,

that's how my life is singing Dindi

happy Dindi, when you're with me

I love you more each day, yes I do, yes I do,

I'd let you go away if you take me with you

Don't you know Dindi, I'd be running, searching for you

like a river that can't find sea

That would be me without you my Dindi.

Portuguese Words by Aloysio de Oliveira

Antonio Carlos Jobim 80 anos - Instituto Antonio Carlos Jobim Website

Dolce far Niente

2007-01-17T10:53:00.000-08:00

John William Godward

Gershwin - Embraceable You

2007-01-12T16:33:00.000-08:00

Embraceable You

(George and Ira Gershwin)

Embrace me
My sweet embraceable you
Embrace me
My irreplaceable you
Just to look at you
My heart go tipsy in me
You and you alone
Bring out the gipsy in me
I love all the many charms about you
Above all I want my arms about you
Don't be naughty baby
Come to me
Come to me do
My sweet embraceable you

L' age D'or - Buñuel/Dali

2006-12-27T13:06:00.000-08:00

http://www.luisbunuel.org/

Obsesiones

Tell Me, Is The Rose Naked?

2006-12-10T05:15:00.000-08:00

Tell me, is the rose naked

Or is that her only dress?
Why do trees conceal

The splendor of their roots?
Who hears the regrets

Of the thieving automobile?
Is there anything in the world sadder

Than a train standing in the rain?

(Pablo Neruda)

Rimbaud

2006-12-03T05:30:00.000-08:00

Rimbaud - Walpaper by Lem (repelled ghost)

2006-11-25T19:52:00.000-08:00

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers

I ache from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;

how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,

the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;

I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.

I live with pain that is like a wound;

if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love,

yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;

because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.

(Love by Pablo Neruda)

Full of desire

2006-11-20T15:02:00.000-08:00

2006-09-23T23:23:00.000-07:00

Must you dance every dance with the same fortunate man?

You have danced with him since the music began.

Won't you change partners and dance with me?

Must you dance quite so close with your lips touching his face?

Can't you see I'm longing to be in his place?

Won't you change partners and dance with me?

Ask him to sit this one out. While you're alone,

I'll tell the waiter to tell him he's wanted on the telephone.

You've been locked in his arms ever since heaven-knows-when.

Won't you change partners and then,

You may never want to change partners again.

(Change Partners - from the album Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim /Music and lyrics by Irving Berlin)

2006-09-07T18:37:00.000-07:00

Marc Trautman - Welcome Home

2006-08-23T19:33:00.000-07:00

The Coat

I made my song a coat

Covered with embroideries

Out of old mythologies

From heel to throat;

But the fools caught it,

Wore it in the world's eye

As though they'd wrought it.

Song, let them take it,

For there's more enterprise

In walking naked.

(W. B. Yeats)

2006-07-26T18:48:00.000-07:00

The Burning Bed - from the movie "Like Water for Chocolate"

2006-07-09T22:54:00.001-07:00

The Beloved Voice

The beloved voice
Comes from behind the mountain
Ethereal bridge
Across the ocean sea.
Dawning star
Rises on the horizon
Too near and far,
Your singing in me.
Love, my love,
Where do you hide?
That you do not hide,
And yet I cannot find you.
My voice
Will never meet you, perhaps.
We're all alone,
In no place and no time.

(English Version by Sonia Pinto of the poem and song "A Voz Amada", by Caetano Veloso, from the movie "O Quatrilho")

(2001)

2006-06-20T23:06:00.000-07:00

Medusa - Camille Claudel

2006-06-18T20:38:00.000-07:00

Sunstone (fragments)

I travel your body, like the world,
your belly is a plaza full of sun,
your breasts two churches where blood
performs its own, parallel rites,
my glances cover you like ivy,
you are a city the sea assaults,
a stretch of ramparts split by the light
in two halves the color of peaches,
a domain of salt, rocks and birds,
under the rule of oblivious noon,

dressed in the color of my desires,
you go your way naked as my thoughts,
I travel your eyes, like the sea,
tigers drink their dreams in those eyes,
the hummingbird burns in those flames,
I travel your forehead, like the moon,
like the cloud that passes through your thoughts,
I travel your belly, like your dreams,

your skirt of corn ripples and sings,
your skirt of crystal, your skirt of water,
your lips, your hair, your glances rain
all through the night, and all day long
you open my chest with your fingers of water,
you close my eyes with your mouth of water,
you rain on my bones, a tree of liquid
sending roots of water into my chest,

I travel your length, like a river,
I travel your body, like a forest,
like a mountain path that ends at a cliff
I travel along the edge of your thoughts,
and my shadow falls from your white forehead,
my shadow shatters, and I gather the pieces
and go with no body, groping my way, (...)

...because two bodies, naked and entwined,
leap over time, they are invulnerable,
nothing can touch them, they return to the source,
there is no you, no I, no tomorrow,
no yesterday, no names, the truth of two
in a single body, a single soul, oh total being... (...)

to love is to battle, if two kiss
the world changes, desires take flesh
thoughts take flesh, wings sprout
on the backs of the slave, the world is real
and tangible, wine is wine, bread
regains its savor, water is water,
to love is to battle, to open doors,
to cease to be a ghost with a number
forever in chains, forever condemned
by a faceless master;
the world changes
if two look at each other and see (...)

I follow my raving, rooms, streets,
I grope my way through corridors of time,
I climb and descend its stairs, I touch
its walls and do not move, I go back
to where I began, I search for your face,
I walk through the streets of myself
under an ageless sun, and by my side
you walk like a tree, you walk like a river,
and talk to me like the course of a river,
you grow like wheat between my hands,
you throb like a squirrel between my hands,
you fly like a thousand birds, and your laugh
is like the spray of the sea, your head
is a star between my hands, the world
grows green again when you smile,
eating an orange,
the world changes
if two, dizzy and entwined, fall
on the grass: the sky comes down, trees
rise, space becomes nothing but light
and silence, open space for the eagle
of the eye, the white tribe of clouds
goes by, and the body weighs anchor,
the soul sets sail, and we lose
our names and float adrift in the blue
and green, total time where nothing
happens but its own, easy crossing (...)

(Octavio Paz)

2006-05-21T20:21:00.000-07:00

La Belle Dame Sans Merci - Frank Dicksee

2006-05-07T15:24:00.000-07:00

All Over

You’re like a dead man,
I mourn.
Far, on a land from where
You’re not coming back,
Like the dead.
Or was it me who died?
We inhabit strange lands,
The bitter taste of the stranded,
And I feel the pain of the ones
Who lost their dearest ones
To eternity.
I lost you to the darkness,
The distance.
You're like the dead,
Always on our minds
To remind us that they
Won't come back.
That they need to be forgotten,
That they lost their beauty,
Their bodies,
That they cannot be loved
Or desired any more.
That even if you die
You will never be able
To meet them again.

(Sonia P, 2002)

2006-04-24T22:21:00.000-07:00

The Implorer - Camille Claudel

http://www.artcyclopedia.com/artists/claudel_camille.html

http://www.cs.wustl.edu/~loui/camille.html

2006-04-21T17:50:00.000-07:00

A cigarette that bares lipstick's traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you.

A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumblin'words that told you what my heart meant
A fairground's painted swings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.

You came,
You saw,
You conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be

The winds of march that made my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you

First daffodils
And long excited cables
And candle lights
A little corner table
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you

The park at evening
When the bell has sounded
The pier in france
With all the gulls around it
The beauty that is spring
These foolish things
Remind me of you

How strange,
How sweet,
To find you still,
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me

The sigh of midnight trains
At empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside
Dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you

Gardenia perfume
Lingering on a pillow
Wild strawberries
Only seven francs a kilo
And still my heart has wings,
These foolish things,
Remind me of you

The smile of garbo
And the scent of roses
The waiters whistling
As the last bar closes
The song that crosby sings
These foolish things
Remind me of you

How strange
How sweet
To find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me

The scent of smoldering leaves
The wail of steamers
Two lovers on the street
Who walk like dreamers
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.

(These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You))

2006-04-17T23:30:00.000-07:00

'woman in chains'

2006-04-15T21:23:00.000-07:00

XXIII.
As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

(William Shakespeare - Sonnet 23)

Gaudi - Barcelona, Spain

2006-04-05T21:50:00.000-07:00

2006-04-02T01:30:00.000-08:00

"Poetry is the best words in the best order"
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

2006-04-02T01:17:00.000-08:00

Jeunes Bohemiennes - William Bouguereau

2006-03-14T20:11:00.000-08:00

De tarde quero decansar, chegar até a praia e
Ver se o vento ainda está forte
E vai ser bom subir nas pedras
Sei que faço isso pra esquecer
Eu deixo a onda me acertar
E o vento vai levando tudo embora

Agora está tão longe
Vê, a linha do horizonte me distrai:
Dos nossos planos é que tenho mais saudade,
Quando olhávamos juntos na mesma direção

Aonde está você agora
Além de aqui dentro de mim?

Agimos certo sem querer
Foi só o tempo que errou
Vai ser difícil sem você
Porque você está comigo o tempo todo e
Quando vejo o mar
Existe algo que diz:- A vida continua e se entregar é uma bobagem

Já que você não está aqui,
O que posso fazer é cuidar de mim
Quero ser feliz ao menos
Lembra que o plano era ficarmos bem?
- Ei, olha só o que eu achei: cavalos-marinhos

Sei que faço isso pra esquecer
Eu deixo a onda me acertar
E o vento vai levando tudo embora

(Vento no Litoral - Renato Russo)

2006-03-11T17:41:00.000-08:00

Nymphes et Satyre - William Bouguereau

2006-02-24T22:16:00.000-08:00

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enoughto be to you just object and thing, dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up, to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be true
before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

Rainer Maria Rilke
from "I Am Much Too Alone In This World, Yet Not Alone"

Translated by Annemarie S. Kidder
English translation, translator's introduction, and translator's notes copyright © 2001 by Annemarie S. Kidder. Published 2001. All rights reserved.

Deer in the porch

2006-02-07T21:43:00.000-08:00

2006-02-05T23:35:00.000-08:00

I KNOW IT'S GONNA HAPPEN SOMEDAY

My love, wherever you are
Whatever you are
Don't lose faith
I know it's gonna happen someday
To you
Please wait ...
Please wait ...
Oh ... Wait ...
Don't lose faith
You say that the day just never arrives
And it's never seemed so far away
Still, I know it's gonna happen someday
To you
Please wait ...
Don't lose faith

Steven Morrissey _ from the album "Your Arsenal"

http://www.oz.net/~moz/

urban romance

2006-01-27T20:10:00.000-08:00

2006-01-23T19:50:00.000-08:00

Vítima do Amor

Eu sou e sempre fui vítima do amor
Porque o amor demais prejudica
Porque o amor de menos prejudica
Porque o amor é feito bebida: tem que tomar a dose certa
Minha mãe se pudesse casava comigo
Meu pai me dá ordens para o meu bem
Meus amigos me negam um baseado
Achando que vai fazer mal
Meus amantes querem dominar minha vida
As pessoas me param em todos os lugares
Pra me beijarem, pedir autógrafos, pedir conselhos
Como se fossem donos da minha vida
As pessoas ou me ligam sem parar ou não ligam
Achando que vão incomodar

Sou mais uma vítima do amor
Do amor que prejudica
Sou mais uma vítima do amor
E acho que é até bonito
Eu sou um cara que gosta de zonas com amigos
Eu sou um cara que precisa ficar sozinho
Mas é difícil você ser a única pessoa numa família
Eu sou um cara que só faz o que quer, e essa é a minha felicidade
Sair pela cidade sem rumo de carro
Não ligar avisando
Ir embora à francesa
Andar com todo o tipo de gente
Eu sou um cachorro vira-lata sofisticado
Mas um vira-lata

Eu sou uma criança desiludida
Que pede sempre perdão
Eu sou um garoto obediente
Que desobedece só de curtição

Portanto, meus amigos, me dêem espaço para amar também
Por que eu sei que vou ser sempre um menino
Mas também sou um homem inteligente e decidido
E posso ensinar muita coisa
Um professor descaralhado e sério
Por que aprendi a ser sério e fútil
E a futilidade é o que nos salva nessa vida
Sou mais uma vítima do amor
Do amor que prejudica
Sou mais uma vítima do amor
E acho que é até bonito

Cazuza
http://www.artistswithaids.org/artforms/music/catalogue/cazuza.html#writings

Danaid - Auguste Rodin

2006-01-20T21:33:00.000-08:00

2006-01-15T18:18:00.000-08:00

I Cannot Live With You

I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.
I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,
You could not.

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus'.
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

They'd judge us - how?
For you served Heaven,
you know
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.

And were you lost,
I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.

And were you saved,
And I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
And prayer,
And that pale sustenance,
Despair!

Emily Dickinson

House of Flying Daggers

2006-01-05T19:57:00.000-08:00

http://www.sonyclassics.com/houseofflyingdaggers/trailer-open.html

2006-01-04T21:19:00.000-08:00

Um Beijo
que tivesse um blue.
Isto é
imitasse feliz a delicadeza, a
sua,
assim como um tropeço
que mergulha surdamente
no reino expresso
do prazer.
Espio sem um ai
as evoluções do teu confronto
à minha sombra
desde a escolha debruçada no menu;
um peixe grelhado
um namorado
uma água
sem gás
de decolagem:
leitor embevecido
talvez ensurdecido
"ao sucesso"
diria meu censor
"à escuta"
diria meu amor
sempre em blue
mas era um blue
feliz
indagando só
"what's new"
uma questão
matriz
desenhada a giz
entre um beijo
e a renúncia intuída
de outro beijo.

Ana Cristina César

In Thoughts of You - Jack Vettriano

2006-01-02T18:07:00.000-08:00

2006-01-02T17:08:00.000-08:00

Vocabulary

I lose all my vocabulary
my grammar fails, prepositions go wrong
my poor language reveals
the fear I have of losing him
what's wrong with me?
whatever happened to my vernacle, my skill with words?
They seem to flow away
whenever I write to him
I love words, but
can it be that I love him more than words
can say...

Sonia P - 2005

Times Square - 1920

2005-12-29T16:59:00.000-08:00

2005-12-28T21:15:00.000-08:00

Morning Delicacies

I opened up my eyes
to the smell of fresh bread
from the bakery shop at the corner
It was hot
And I was scarcely dressed
from dreaming of delicacies

I fell asleep again
until the alarm clock went off
I thought of you
In the shower, undressing
bare chested
naked back
mumbling something incomprehensible
Then I had to wake up to go to work

I hadn't slept much
I was half asleep
dreaming of your delicacies

I had been quite pathetic last night
I felt ashamed
You're unattainably delicate
I am delicate too
I fell like a vase made of delicate china
I woke up broken to pieces
the day ahead of me

Sonia P - 2005

Gossips - Camille Claudel

2005-12-28T17:31:00.000-08:00

2005-12-26T20:49:00.000-08:00

Les poètes de sept ans
A M. P. Demeny.
Et la Mère, fermant le livre du devoir,
S'en allait satisfaite et très fière, sans voir,
Dans les yeux bleus et sous le front plein d'éminences,
L'âme de son enfant livrée aux répugnances.
Tout le jour il suait d'obéissance ; très
Intelligent ; pourtant des tics noirs, quelques traits,
Semblaient prouver en lui d'âcres hypocrisies.
Dans l'ombre des couloirs aux tentures moisies,
En passant il tirait la langue, les deux poings
A l'aine, et dans ses yeux fermés voyait des points.
Une porte s'ouvrait sur le soir : à la lampe
On le voyait, là-haut, qui râlait sur la rampe,
Sous un golfe le jour pendant du toit.
L'étéSurtout, vaincu, stupide, il était entêté
A se renfermer dans la fraîcheur des latrines :
Il pensait là, tranquille et livrant ses narines.
Quand, lavé des odeurs du jour, le jardinet
Derrière la maison, en hiver, s'illunait,
Gisant au pied d'un mur, enterré dans la marne
Et pour des visions écrasant son oeil darne,
Il écoutait grouiller les galeux espaliers.
Pitié ! Ces enfants seuls étaient ses familiers
Qui, chétifs, fronts nus, oeil déteignant sur la joue,
Cachant de maigres doigts jaunes et noirs de boue
Sous des habits puant la foire et tout vieillots,
Conversaient avec la douceur des idiots !
Et si, l'ayant surpris à des pitiés immondes,
Sa mère s'effrayait ; les tendresses, profondes,
De l'enfant se jetaient sur cet étonnement.
C'était bon. Elle avait le bleu regard, - qui ment !
A sept ans, il faisait des romans, sur la vie
Du grand désert, où luit la Liberté ravie,
Forêts, soleils, rives, savanes ! - Il s'aidait
De journaux illustrés où, rouge, il regardait
Des Espagnoles rire et des Italiennes.
Quand venait, l'oeil brun, folle, en robes d'indiennes,-
Huit ans, - la fille des ouvriers d'à côté,
La petite brutale, et qu'elle avait sauté,
Dans un coin, sur son dos, en secouant ses tresses,
Et qu'il était sous elle, il lui mordait les fesses,
Car elle ne portait jamais de pantalons ;-
Et, par elle meurtri des poings et des talons,
Remportait les saveurs de sa peau dans sa chambre.
Il craignait les blafards dimanches de décembre,
Où, pommadé, sur un guéridon d'acajou,
Il lisait une Bible à la tranche vert-chou ;
Des rêves l'oppressaient chaque nuit dans l'alcôve.
Il n'aimait pas Dieu ; mais les hommes, qu'au soir fauve,
Noirs, en blouse, il voyait rentrer dans le faubourg
Où les crieurs, en trois roulements de tambour,
Font autour des édits rire et gronder les foules.-
Il rêvait la prairie amoureuse, où des houles
Lumineuses, parfums sains, pubescences d'or,
Font leur remuement calme et prennent leur essor !
Et comme il savourait surtout les sombres choses,
Quand, dans la chambre nue aux persiennes closes,
Haute et bleue, âcrement prise d'humidité,
Il lisait son roman sans cesse médité,
Plein de lourds ciels ocreux et de forêts noyées,
De fleurs de chair aux bois sidérals déployées,
Vertige, écroulements, déroutes et pitié !-
Tandis que se faisait la rumeur du quartier,
En bas, - seul, et couché sur des pièces de toile
Ecrue, et pressentant violemment la voile !

Jean Arthur Rimbaud 26 mai 1871.

Prenom Carmen - Jean Luc Godard

2005-12-22T21:40:00.000-08:00

2005-12-22T21:30:00.000-08:00

VOZ QUE SE CALA

Amo as pedras, os astros e o luar
Que beija as ervas do atalho escuro,
Amo as águas de anil e o doce olhar
Dos animais, divinamente puro.
Amo a hera que entende a voz do muro
E dos sapos, o brando tilintar
De cristais que se afagam devagar,
E da minha charneca o rosto duro.
Amo todos os sonhos que se calam
De corações que sentem e não falam,
Tudo o que é Infinito e pequenino!
Asa que nos protege a todos nós!
Soluço imenso, eterno, que é a voz
Do nosso grande e mísero Destino!...

Florbela D'Alma da Conceição Espanca