Untitled

It came externally, amorphous and hard

Tasteless in origin, without tale or icebergs.

 

And you compared it to internal one,

so plume look alike.

 

Navigating system, hanged in an empty space,

perfectly matching much future, more of tomorrow.

reminding me what pure joy is.

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Research at University of Wales: Poets living with a sky – follow up review

This research started several months ago, and I use this opportunity to once more express my gratitude to all poets who kindly took their time to participate and answer the questionnaire. Unfortunately, the number of participants wasn’t sufficient for deriving credible results so at the end we needed to go with different focus group. I was really looking forward to examining results, but as it comes with any research in social setting, the outcome can go either way.

I hope you enjoyed these beautiful poems, inspired by sky and that they gave you additional ideas for your own writing.

Maja

 

 

Poet and the sky: Poem by K. Morris

Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind (an excerpt)

On seeing the stormy sky
The poet thinks “man must die”.
He sees the young girl bloom
And says “she is destined for the tomb”.
Oh let us gather wild flowers
And not waste our powers
Trapped in ivory towers.
Beware the scholar’s domed head
For we are soon dead.
May our spirit fly

Ere we die
And are lost in endless sky”.

For more beautiful and inspiring poetry visit newauthoronline.com

Poet and the sky: Poem by Charu Sharma

THE NIGHT
Sometimes scary,
Sometimes lonely,
Sometimes quiet,
Sometimes filled with,
Voices and noises,
That exhaust,
The impatient mind.
Sometimes hide the pain,
Sometimes highlights,
Low points of the game.
The fairy lights shine bright,
In few buildings,
In our lane.
The stars twinkle in sky,
Everything pauses,
Silence becomes the voice.
Judgement declines,
Creativity heightens,
Many lone hearts,
Comfort themselves,
By saying,
It’s not just them,
Every one is waiting,
For the sunny life.
The neighbor beats his wife,
A teenager in another one,
Watches a romedy film,
Wishing for a rosy life.
And the wife thinks,
Life is nothing,
But just a lie,
And we have to survive,
The night.
The night,
That stretches,
This night,
Next night,
Every night,
Till we breathe,
Our last.
Into a new day,
Into a new life.
For more beautiful poems and stories visit her blog at https://shewrites170.wordpress.com/

Research at University of Wales: Poets living with a sky

As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I got an opportunity to take part in research ‘Living with a sky’ in front of St Trinity, University of Wales, where essentially we explore how contemporary humans relate to sky. I thought it was a great idea to perform part of research among poets, as the sky, cosmos, moon..have always been a source of inspiration to artists and writers. With some of you I already had a personal contact/information, but I thought of doing this as a separate post, if it needs some additional clarification. Additionally to that, this is also a perfect way for me to get back on track with businessinrhyme and wordpress.

So what is your connection to the sky? If you would like to participate in this research below are the questions. It would take you only few minutes to answer and confidentially of your data is guaranteed.

As a token of my gratitude your poetry will be featured on my blog and as well as a part of research itself 🙂 You can email me the answers businessinrhyme@gmail.com, or answer in the form that suits you.

This post will be reposted occasionally  as long as collecting data lasts.

Thank you in advance, Maja

  1. What year you were born?

 

  1. Country of origin

 

  1. How long have you been writing poetry?

 

  1. How long have you been publicly sharing your poetry (via wordpress and other media)?

 

  1. Have you been traditionally published author?

 

  1. What sky represents to you?

 

  1. What inspires you to write about the sky/cosmos, sun, stars or moon?

 

  1. Do you have a favorite poem that reflects on nature of the sky?

 

  1. Share excerpt of your poetry where sky/elements of sky are mentioned.

 

Poetry and belief

or rather poetry of belief?

Many new questions and perspectives are swirling in my head as I’m starting my research. It’s interesting to note how our writing, especially that intimate and most delicate as poetry is, reveals so much about us – parts of us that we are mostly not aware of at all.

When I ask myself  ‘What do I believe’, my rational and scientific side has one answer. Hence, is poet someone who only seeks the truth or is he also a co-creative energy, someone who in the here and now as an expression of consciousness forms new identities, never permanent, forever changeable?

Do we need to believe in only factual things, or is it unseen, being perceptible enough to be accepted? Poetry is a wonderful medium for exploring such concepts, don’t you think?

How belief is reflected in your poetry and writing?

Let bring conversation back 🙂

Elizabeth Bishop on the importance of travel and richness of our inner world

EBishop

Elizabeth Bishop was an American poet, born in 1911. Very early, both of her parents left, so most of her life was marked with moving from city to city, country to country and living with different relatives. For her life time she published only around 100 poems, but she was quite a perfectionist, constantly rewriting and editing her work. In the later years of her career she was globally recognized for her work, winning in the 1956 Pulitzer Prize for her collection, Poems: North & South/A Cold Spring (Houghton Mifflin, 1955).

Her writing is best known for the usage of rich descriptions, giving sensual experience of her physical world to the reader, like in this poem:

Arrival At Santos

Here is a coast; here is a harbor;
here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery:
impractically shaped and–who knows?–self-pitying mountains,
sad and harsh beneath their frivolous greenery,

with a little church on top of one. And warehouses,
some of them painted a feeble pink, or blue,
and some tall, uncertain palms.

For a subsequent amount of time she lived in South America, where especially the stay in Brazil has made a profound influence on her work, which can be seen in her Questions of Travel (1965) poetry collection. In many of the poems, in this collection she raises question, why do we have the need for new experiences? How do we interact with something that is foreign to us? And what and where exactly is home?

In this poem, Question of travel she writes:

Think of the long trip home.
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theaters?
What childishness is it that while there’s a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush
to see the sun the other way around?
The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?
To stare at some inexplicable old stonework,
inexplicable and impenetrable,
at any view,
instangly seen and always, always delightful?
Oh, must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?

But surely it would have been a pity
not to have seen the trees along this road,
really exaggerated in their beauty,
not to have seen them gesturing
like noble pantomimists, robed in pink.
—Not to have had to stop for gas and heard
the sad, two-noted, wooden tune
of disparate wooden clogs
carelessly clacking over
a grease-stained filling-station floor.
(In another country the clogs would all be tested.
Each pair there would have identical pitch.)
—A pity not to have heard
the other, less primitive music of the fat brown bird
who sings above the broken gasoline pump
in a bamboo church of Jesuit baroque:
three towers, five silver crosses.
—Yes, a pity not to have pondered,
blurr-dly and inconclusively,
on what connection can exist for centuries
between the crudest wooden footwear
and, careful and finicky,
the whittled fantasies of wooden cages.
—Never to have studied history in
the weak calligraphy of songbirds’ cages.
—And never to have had to listen to rain
so much like politicians’ speeches:
two hour of unrelenting oratory
and then a sudden golden silence
in which the traveller takes a notebook, writes:

“Is it lack of imagination that makes us come
to imagined places, not just stay at home?
Or could Pascal have been entirely right
about just sitting quietly in one’s room?

Continent, city, country, society:
the choice is never wide and never free.
And here, or there…No. Should we have stayed at home,
wherever that may be?”

Among other themes, Bishop plays around with the notions of identity and its relation to the understanding of “being at home”, and “belonging somewhere”. We observe and absorb new experience, but how that impacts our inner world stays individualistic and personal. She further stirs thoughts and emotions on questions like: does travel makes us more aware of who we truly are, where do we come from and where we are heading?

How deeply rooted are beliefs? How the change of environment can enhance our attitudes and the way we see/perceive things?

Bishop implies that once we are self-confident enough, home is where we are. We don’t have to go to search for something out there, it’s our inner world that requires the most attention and nurturing.

She writes:

All my life I have lived and behaved very much like the sandpiper – just running down the edges of different countries and continents, ‘looking for something’.

New experiences are important. They shape our personalities, but once you begin to live your purpose, becoming who you truly are, you are at home. And your home will be with you wherever you go.


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