New

  1. Joan Murray: One Morganatic Leer (poem)
  2. Joe Hill: Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay (Song)
  3. Raymond Garfield Dandridge: The Poet
  4. Russian activist and artist, Yulia Tsvetkova, is facing six year sentence for drawing the female body
  5. Marcel Schwob: Ta fine bouche est un fil rose… (Poème)
  6. Gilbert Keith Chesterton: Nightmare (Poem)
  7. Poetry by Keetje Kuipers: ‘All Its Charms’
  8. Renée Vivien: Victoire (Poème)
  9. Maude. A Ballad Of The Olden Time by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
  10. Genomineerden E. du Perronprijs 2019: Ellen Deckwitz, Stephan Enter en Asha Karami
  11. Herman Melville: Art (Poem)
  12. Morning Glory on the Vine. Early Songs and Drawings by Joni Mitchell
  13. Georg Trakl: Helian (Gedicht)
  14. Sjon Brands & Nico de Wit: Homo Ludens (absurdistische assemblages & bronstransformaties)
  15. The Penguin Book of Oulipo: Queneau, Perec, Calvino and the Adventure of Form by Philip Terry (Editor)
  16. Forever Words. The Unknown Poems by Johnny Cash
  17. Delphine Lecompte: Vrolijke verwoesting. Gedichten
  18. Susanna Moodie: Night (Poem)
  19. Van Eyck. Een optische revolutie. De grootste Jan van Eyck-tentoonstelling ooit
  20. Child refugee faces prison over Facebook posts
  21. 85ste Boekenweek van zaterdag 7 t/m zondag 15 maart 2020
  22. Bert Bevers: Belofte (Gedicht)
  23. Herman Melville: America (Poem)
  24. Lascelles Abercrombie: The End of the World, Act II
  25. B. Zwaal: zeesnede – gedichten 1984 – 2019
  26. Lascelles Abercrombie: The End of the World, Act I
  27. Claude McKay: The Lynching
  28. Poetry by Diana Marie Delgado: Tracing the Horse
  29. Walt Whitman: Give me the splendid silent sun
  30. Gladys Cromwell: Dusk (Poem)
  31. Agnita Feis: De pijl uit de aero (gedicht)
  32. Bert Bevers: Het heuveltje van Gilliams (Gedicht)
  33. Walt Whitman: City of ships (Poem)
  34. La poésie sacrée par Alphonse De Lamartine
  35. SETTING/UNSETTING/RESETTING – tentoonstelling Jonas Wijtenburg in PARK
  36. METROPOLITAN MUSEUM – TILBURG : Overzichtstentoonstelling Sander Neijnens en Ivo van Leeuwen
  37. Will Streets: A Soldiers’ Cemetery (Poem)
  38. POËZIEWEEK IN NEDERLAND EN VLAANDEREN 2020
  39. Emily Dickinson: Aspiration (Poem)
  40. Renée Vivien: Vers d’amour (Poème)
  41. Victor Hugo: Ce que c’est que la mort (Poème)
  42. Herman Melville: Shelley’s Vision (Poem)
  43. Marcel Schwob: Sous les vieux arbres gris… (Poème)
  44. Karel van de Woestijne: Ween aan mijn borst (Gedicht)
  45. Les étrennes des orphelins par Arthur Rimbaud (Poème)
  46. Bert Bevers & Joep Eijkens: Haventijding
  47. Georg Trakl: Menschliches Elend (Gedicht)
  48. Lord Byron: And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low? (Poem)
  49. ‘Blue in Green’ gedicht van Paul Bezembinder
  50. Victor Hugo: Dans la forêt (Poème)

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Joan Murray: One Morganatic Leer (poem)

 

One Morganatic Leer

You think you complain
of the ugliness of people.
Meet your own bed.
Smell what you said.
Your words, unmitigated, dead,
Sink like a noon sun in the crass tomb
beneath the steeple.

Two feet above the sand,
look down
A tartan shore,
A clan, a clack, a whore,
A mobile open door,
To the dog against the tree,
the brittle mugging clown.

Claws like tumbled fingers here
Stand for hands,
Elastic bands,
Minds and trends.
Thighs sprout here enough to breed
the honor of your morganatic leer.

Joan Murray
(1917-1942)
One Morganatic Leer
from: Poems (1947)

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive M-N, Archive M-N, Joan Murray

Joe Hill: Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay (Song)

 

Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay

I had a job once threshing wheat, worked sixteen hours with hands and feet.
And when the moon was shining bright, they kept me working all the night.
One moonlight night, I hate to tell, I “accidentally” slipped and fell.
My pitchfork went right in between some cog wheels of that thresh-machine.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way.
And wheels and bolts and hay,
Went flying every way.
That stingy rube said, “Well!
A thousand gone to hell.”
But I did sleep that night,
I needed it all right.

Next day that stingy rube did say, “I’ll bring my eggs to town today;
You grease my wagon up, you mutt, and don’t forget to screw the nut.”
I greased his wagon all right, but I plumb forgot to screw the nut,
And when he started on that trip, the wheel slipped off and broke his hip.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
That rube was sure a sight,
And mad enough to fight;
His whiskers and his legs
Were full of scrambled eggs;
I told him, “That’s too bad —
I’m feeling very sad.”

And then that farmer said, “You turk! I bet you are an I-Won’t Work.”
He paid me off right there, By Gum! So I went home and told my chum.
Next day when threshing did commence, my chum was Johnny on the fence;
And ‘pon my word, that awkward kid, he dropped his pitchfork, like I did.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
And part of that machine
Hit Reuben on the bean.
He cried, “Oh me, oh my;
I nearly lost my eye.”
My partner said, “You’re right —
It’s bedtime now, good night.”

But still that rube was pretty wise, these things did open up his eyes.
He said, “There must be something wrong; I think I work my men too long.”
He cut the hours and raised the pay, gave ham and eggs for every day,
Now gets his men from union hall, and has no “accidents” at all.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
That rube is feeling gay;
He learned his lesson quick,
Just through a simple trick.
For fixing rotten jobs
And fixing greedy slobs,
This is the only way,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!

Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay
Song

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: # Music Archive, - Archive Tombeau de la jeunesse, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, MUSEUM OF PUBLIC PROTEST, Workers of the World

Raymond Garfield Dandridge: The Poet

 

The Poet

The poet sits and dreams and dreams;
He scans his verse; he probes his themes.

Then turns to stretch or stir about,
Lest, like his thoughts, his strength give out.

Then off to bed, for he must rise
And cord some wood, or tamp some ties,

Or break a field of fertile soil,
Or do some other manual toil.

He dare not live by wage of pen,
Most poorly paid of poor paid men,

With shoes o’er-run, and threadbare clothes,—
And editors among the foes

Who mock his song, deny him bread,
Then sing his praise when he is dead.

Raymond Garfield Dandridge
(1882 – 1930)
The Poet

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, CLASSIC POETRY

Russian activist and artist, Yulia Tsvetkova, is facing six year sentence for drawing the female body

 

Russian activist and artist, Yulia Tsvetkova, is facing prosecution and harassment for defending women’s and LGBTI rights.

She has been under house arrest since 22 November, under absurd charges of “production and dissemination of pornography” for her drawings of the female body. She is facing up to six years in prison if convicted. Yulia Tsvetkova is a prisoner of conscience and must be immediately and unconditionally released.

Yulia Tsvetkova is an LGBTI and women’s rights activist, artist and stage director, from Komsomolsk-on-Amur, the Russian Far East.

She was detained on 20 November 2019 and put on house arrest two days later, after being charged with the “production and dissemination of pornographic materials”, for making body positive drawings of the female body and sharing them on social media.

Her drawings included pictures of female reproductive organs, and she shared them online as part of her women’s empowerment campaign.

On the day of her arrest, police searched Yulia’s apartment and the children’s educational club where she worked previously. The police seized her electronic devices, documents, and brochures on gender issues. Yulia later said that during the search police officers referred to her as a “lesbian, sex trainer and propagandist leader”.

  

Yulia has been the target of an overtly homophobic campaign since March 2019, when she was forced to leave Merak, the amateur youth theatre company she worked at, after police launched an investigation into alleged “propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations among minors”.

The investigation was launched in reaction to Yulia’s anti-bullying, anti-discrimination play, Blue and Pink.

On 11 December 2019 Yulia was found guilty of “propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations among minors”, and fined 50,000 rubles (approximately 600 GBP), for serving as the administrator of two LGBTI online communities on the popular Russian social media site, VKontakte.

Both of the online communities were properly marked as “18+”, as required by Russian law. Even under the confines of the homophobic Russian “gay propaganda” legislation, the “offence” should only be valid if the “propaganda” material is targeted at people under the age of 18.

On 17 January, Yulia informed the media that new proceedings had been opened against her, under the same Article of the Code of Administrative Offences that she had previously been charged under. This time she was being prosecuted for posting a drawing she made depicting two same-sex couples with child on social media, alongside the statement, “Family is where love is. Support LGBT+ families”.

She published the drawing in support of a same-sex couple who were forced to flee Russia with their adopted children after authorities threatened to remove their children from their custody.

# visit Website Amnesty International UK for more information and urgent actions

# support amnesty international
# take urgent action now

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More in: Archive S-T, Art & Literature News, AUDIO, CINEMA, RADIO & TV, Illustrators, Illustration, MUSEUM OF PUBLIC PROTEST, PRESS & PUBLISHING, REPRESSION OF WRITERS, JOURNALISTS & ARTISTS, THEATRE, Urban Art

Marcel Schwob: Ta fine bouche est un fil rose… (Poème)

    

Ta fine bouche est un fil rose…

Ta fine bouche est un fil rose
Tendu sur un masque de soie,
Ta chevelure qui s’éploie,
Est-ce un arc-en-ciel qui se pose?
Tes yeux noirs ont un coeur vermeil
Pailleté d’or et de rubis,
Ce sont deux boucliers fourbis
Avec des gouttes de soleil.
Ton souple corps est une tige
Flexible d’aubépine blanche,
Le svelte ruban de la branche
D’une liane qui voltige.
Tes seins crémeux sont deux cocons
Pomponnés de satin grenat,
Avec deux bourgeons d’incarnat
Crevant la neige des flocons.
Ton ventre comme une cuirasse
Couverte de moire argentée
D’une javeline plantée
A son coeur garde la trace.
Tes deux mains sont les coques d’or
D’une grenade au sein creusé
Où brille d’un éclat rosé
Le chapelet des grains qui dort.

Ta fine bouche est un fil rose
Tendu sur un masque de moire;
Au coeur d’une houppette noire,
C’est un calice qui repose.
Ces deux gouttelettes de pluie
Qu’un nuage pleura pour toi,
Ta petite main les essuie:
Mon coeur, je veux savoir pourquoi.
Ce n’est qu’une gaminerie:
Il ne faut pas pleurer, mon coeur;
Ne pleure pas, ô ma chérie –
La pluie est un amant moqueur.
Elle aime les plantes, et tresse
Le tercet du trèfle en quatrain,
Et sous son humide caresse
Fait craquer le corset du grain.
Elle aime les arbres, et tisse
Aux vieux de moussus corselets,
Aux jeunes une robe lisse
Pour draper leurs bras maigrelets.

Marcel Schwob
(1867-1905)
Ta fine bouche est un fil rose…

Portrait: Félix Vallotton
• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Archive S-T, Félix Vallotton, Marcel Schwob

Gilbert Keith Chesterton: Nightmare (Poem)

 

Nightmare

The silver and violet leopard of the night
Spotted with stars and smooth with silence sprang;
And though three doors stood open, the end of light
Closed like a trap; and stillness was a clang.

Under the leopard sky of lurid stars
I strove with evil sleep the hot night long,
Dreams dumb and swollen of triumphs without wars,
Of tongueless trumpet and unanswering gong.

I saw a pale imperial pomp go by,
Helmet and hornèd mitre and heavy wreath;
Their high strange ensigns hung upon the sky
And their great shields were like the doors of death.

Their mitres were as moving pyramids
And all their crowns as marching towers were tall;
Their eyes were cold under their carven lids
And the same carven smile was on them all.

Over a paven plain that seemed unending
They passed unfaltering till it found an end
In one long shallow step; and these descending
Fared forth anew as long away to wend.

I thought they travelled for a thousand years;
And at the end was nothing for them all,
For all that splendour of sceptres and of spears,
But a new step, another easy fall.

The smile of stone seemed but a little less,
The load of silver but a little more:
And ever was that terraced wilderness
And falling plain paved like a palace floor.

Rust red as gore crawled on their arms of might
And on their faces wrinkles and not scars:
Till the dream suddenly ended; noise and light
Loosened the tyranny of the tropic stars.

But over them like a subterranean sun
I saw the sign of all the fiends that fell;
And a wild voice cried “Hasten and be done,
Is there no steepness in the stairs of hell?”

He that returns, He that remains the same,
Turned the round real world, His iron vice;
Down the grey garden paths a bird called twice,
And through three doors mysterious daylight came.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton
(1874 – 1936)
Nightmare
• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Chesterton, Gilbert Keith, G.K. Chesterton

Poetry by Keetje Kuipers: ‘All Its Charms’

A luminous new collection from Keetje Kuipers, All Its Charms is a fearless and transformative reckoning of identity.

By turns tender and raw, these poems chronicle Kuipers’s decision to become a single mother by choice, her marriage to the woman she first fell in love with more than a decade before giving birth to her daughter, and her family’s struggle to bring another child into their lives. All Its Charms is about much more than the reinvention of the American family—it’s about transformation, desire, and who we can become when we move past who we thought we would be.

Keetje Kuipers is the author of three books of poems: Beautiful in the Mouth, The Keys to the Jail, and, most recently, All Its Charms, which includes poems honored by publication in both The Pushcart Prize and Best American Poetry anthologies. 

Her poetry and prose have appeared in Narrative, Virginia Quarterly Review, The New York Times Magazine, The Believer, and over a hundred other magazines. Her poems have also been featured as part of the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day series and read on NPR. Keetje has been a Stegner Fellow, a Bread Loaf fellow, and PEN Northwest’s Margery Davis Boyden Wilderness Writing Resident. She lives with her wife and children on an island in the Salish Sea, a short ferry ride away from Seattle where she is Editor of Poetry Northwest.

 

(. . .)

I climbed the red rocks robed in their red dust.

I put the earth—all its charms—within me,
into each waiting pocket. Lip and ear.

What will happen when my body can no longer

hold this fragrant salt, its hardened tears,
inside? Let mine into the dirt. The names

I’ve chosen for my children are already fast

across the sky like the ochre feathers that frame
the blackbird’s shrug.

(. . .)

Fragment of ‘Landscape with Sage and the Names of My Children’

 

All Its Charms
By: Keetje Kuipers
Language: English
Paperback: 112 pages
Publisher: BOA Editions Ltd.
Publication Date: April 23, 2019
ISBN-10: 1942683766
ISBN-13: 978-1942683766
Regular price $ 17.00

# new poetry
Keetje Kuipers:
All Its Charms

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More in: - Book News, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, MODERN POETRY

Renée Vivien: Victoire (Poème)

 

Victoire

Donne-moi tes baisers amers comme des larmes,
Le soir, quand les oiseaux s’attardent dans leurs vols.
Nos longs accouplements sans amour ont les charmes
Des rapines, l’attrait farouche des viols.

Repousse, délivrant ta haine contenue,
Le frisson de ma bouche éprise de ta chair.
Pour crier ton dégoût, dresse-toi, froide et nue,
Comme un marbre funèbre aux lueurs d’un éclair.

Tes yeux ont la splendeur auguste de l’orage…
Exhale ton mépris jusqu’en ta pâmoison,
O très chère ! — Ouvre-moi tes lèvres avec rage :
J’en boirai lentement le fiel et le poison.

J’ai l’émoi du pilleur devant un butin rare,
Pendant la nuit de fièvre où ton regard pâlit…
L’âme des conquérants, éclatante et barbare,
Chante dans mon triomphe au sortir de ton lit

Renée Vivien

born Pauline Mary Tarn;
(1877–1909)
Victoire;
Etudes et préludes

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive U-V, Archive U-V, Renée Vivien, Vivien, Renée

Maude. A Ballad Of The Olden Time by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

 

Maude.

A Ballad Of The Olden Time

Around the castle turrets fiercely moaned the autumn blast,
And within the old lords daughter seemed dying, dying fast;
While o’er her couch in frenzied grief the stricken father bent,
And in deep sobs and stifled moans his anguish wild found vent.

“Oh cheer thee up, my daughter dear, my Maude, he softly said,
As tremblingly he strove to raise that young and drooping head;
‘I’ll deck thee out in jewels rare in robes of silken sheen,
Till thou shalt be as rich and gay as any crowned queen.”

“Ah, never, never!” sighed the girl, and her pale cheek paler grew,
While marble brow and chill white hands were bathed in icy dew;
“Look in my face – there thou wilt read such hopes are folly all,
No garment shall I wear again, save shroud and funeral pall.”

“My Maude thou’rt wilful! Far away in lands beyond the sea
Are sunny climes, where winter ne’er doth wither flower or tree;
And there thou’lt journey with me, till I see thee smile once more,
And thy fair cheek wear the rose’s hue as in the days of yore.”

“Ah, no roses shall I gather beneath a summer sky,
Not for me such dreams, dear father, my end is drawing nigh;
One voyage is before me, ’tis no use to grieve or moan,
But that dark, fearful journey must I travel all alone.”

“My precious child! last of my race! why wilt thou grieve me so?
Why add by such sad words unto thy grey haired father’s woe?
Live – live, my pearl! my stricken dove! earth’s joys shall all be thine;
Whate’er thy wish or will through life, it also shall be mine.”

Fast coursed the diamond tear drops down that fair, though faded, cheek,
And she whispered, but so softly, one scarce could hear her speak:
“Ah! father, half those loving cares when summer bright was here
Would have kept thy daughter with thee for many a happy year.

“But, ah! thy heart was marble then, and to thy direst foe,
More stern, relentless anger thou couldst not, father, show.
What was my crime? The one I loved, not rich but nobly born,
Was loyal, true, on whom no man e’er looked with glance of scorn.

“He wooed me fairly, father dear, but thou did’st often swear
Thou’dst rather see me in my grave than bride to Hengist’s heir.
Reckless, despairing, he embarked upon the stormy main,
To seek an end to grief and care, nor sought he long in vain.

“Calm and untroubled sleeps he now beneath the salt sea brine,
And I rejoice to think how soon that sweet sleep shall be mine!”
No answer made the father but a low and grief-struck moan;
And silence reigned again throughout that chamber sad and lone.

Sudden the girl starts wildly, with bright and kindling eye,
Her cheek assumes a crimson tint like hue of sunset sky,
“Father! that voice, that rapid step, ah, me! they are well-known,
Hengist who comes from ocean’s deeps to claim me for his own!”

Say, does she rave? No. See yon form, with proud and gallant brow,
Bending above her, whisp’ring low, fond word and tender vow:
“Maude, my own love! no spectral form, no phantom’s at thy side,
But thy girlhood’s lover, now returned to claim thee as his bride.”

The story runs that love and youth o’er death the victory won,
And again did Maude, a happy wife, play ‘neath the summer sun,
While the old lord, grateful to the Power that Hengist’s life had spared,
Henceforth in all his children’s bliss, hopes, sorrows, fully shared.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
(1829 – 1879)
Maude.
A Ballad Of The Olden Time

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, CLASSIC POETRY

Genomineerden E. du Perronprijs 2019: Ellen Deckwitz, Stephan Enter en Asha Karami

De schrijvers Ellen Deckwitz, Stephan Enter en Asha Karami zijn genomineerd voor de E. du Perronprijs 2019.

De prijs wordt toegekend aan schrijvers, kunstenaars of instellingen die met een cultuuruiting in brede zin een bijdrage leveren aan een inclusieve samenleving. De uitreiking vindt plaats op donderdagavond 16 april in de LocHal in Tilburg. Dan houdt Maxim Februari de negende E. du Perronlezing met als titel ‘E. du Perron en de pseudo-identiteiten’.

 

Ellen Deckwitz ‒ Hogere Natuurkunde (Uitgeverij Pluim)

“Op een avond begon je te hijgen, greep naar je borst en riep dat je moest blijven ademen omdat ze anders hadden gewonnen.” Deze openingszin leidt een fascinerende en onheilspellende dichtbundel in, waarin verschillende genres, stemmen en stemmingen met elkaar worden verweven.

Aan het woord is een kleindochter die de stem van haar grootmoeder (1921-2014) laat klinken en haar ervaringen in de oorlog in Nederlands-Indië onder woorden probeert te brengen. Dat levensverhaal werd alleen in flarden verteld, in snippers overgeleverd. Dergelijke details geven een indruk van de overlevingsdrift van de grootmoeder als klein meisje, en van het pantser dat zij op latere leeftijd om zich heen heeft opgetrokken. De kleindochter verweeft haar stem met die van de ander en geeft ook een perspectief op de dochter/moeder (geboren in 1952) die tussen hen in staat. Zij houdt zich buiten het verhaal en overleeft door juist niet te vragen naar waar de pijn vandaan komt. Deckwitz schreef een indrukwekkende dichtbundel die laat zien hoe volgende generaties getekend worden door een land van herkomst dat in oorlog raakte en werd verwoest. Het leed en de veerkracht, soms ingewikkeld met elkaar verbonden, blijven bestaan ook in volgende generaties.

 

Stephan Enter ‒ Pastorale (Uitgeverij Van Oorschot)

De roman Pastorale neemt ons mee naar de jaren tachtig, naar een fictief dorp, Brevendal, in het midden van Nederland. Het ene deel van het dorp is christelijk, de “Goede Herder en Zijn Kudde”, in het andere deel wonen “Ambonezen” die proberen de cultuur die ze verloren zijn vast te houden.

Het verhaal wordt verteld vanuit het perspectief van een broer en zus, opgegroeid in een oude familie met een groot en verwaarloosd landgoed. De roman laat zien hoe verschillende groepen naast elkaar leven, hoe stereotypische perspectieven van kracht zijn, en ook hoe de grenzen tussen de ene en de andere groep poreus blijken te zijn. Deze roman overtuigt omdat de beschrijvingen precies en gedetailleerd zijn, en er subtiel inzicht wordt geboden in de psychologie van de scholier Oscar, verliefd op een Moluks meisje, en zijn zus Louise, die een gesjeesde student is en onzeker over haar toekomst. Goede intenties hebben niet altijd een positief effect, mensen vatten uitspraken en ideeën vaak anders op dan werd bedoeld, en zo worden levens in de provincie geschilderd die veranderen en toch ook hetzelfde blijven. De roman is Perronesk in de veelzijdigheid van personages en in de dialogen waaruit uiteenlopende opvattingen naar voren komen. De meerstemmigheid van de roman wordt niet alleen bereikt door het aanvoeren van verschillende personages, maar zit ook in het hoofd van de enkeling, die haar eigen positie scherp probeert te krijgen: “Die stem – hadden andere mensen die ook? Hadden alle andere mensen die ook? En wat was ze, die stem – was je die zelf, of niet, of niet helemaal, of was je die alleen op momenten waarop je je niet van jezelf bewust was?” Pastorale is intellectueel, literair en uitermate boeiend.

 

Asha Karami ‒ Godface (Uitgeverij De Bezige Bij)

Godface biedt veelzijdige, levendige, geestige en ook vaak verontrustende gedichten. Deze poëzie gaat over van alles, van schuldsanering tot Suikerfeest, van liposuctie tot Aviko-ovenfriet.

Maar bovenal gaat deze poëzie over taal en hoe die als banaal en verheven instrument ingezet kan worden om dagelijkse beelden en ervaringen uit te drukken. Blog post discours en lyriek vermengen zich in absurde beschrijvingen: “ik ben geboren met twee vagina’s / en ik geloof niet in deuren / dit is al mijn derde dood en ik ben nog maar in mijn dertig.” De dichterlijke stem orkestreert het geheel, terwijl zij ook steeds verschillende perspectieven biedt en stemmingen oproept. Er is een sterke thematiek van verschil tussen culturen, groepen, werelden, een verschil dat volledig normaal wordt bevonden. Du Perron zei ooit dat zijn gewone bestaan zonder literatuur onbevredigd zou zijn. Die inzet lezen we ook hier: van alles is literatuur te maken en alles is te dragen omdat het in poëzie uitdrukking kan krijgen. De dichter is tegendraads en scherp analytisch. Dit is poëzie zonder diepzinnigheid of traagheid. Rauw en levendig, en daarmee bestendig in een tijd waarin alles op social media gezegd kan worden, zonder dat daar inzicht te vinden is: “de overweldigende zekerheid / van een ondanks alle zichtbare veranderingen / permanent onzichtbaar onderliggend landschap.”

 

Sinds 1986 reikt Tilburg University jaarlijks een prijs uit ‘ter bekroning van mensen of instellingen die zich middels een actieve bijdrage aan de cultuur verdienstelijk hebben gemaakt voor de bevordering van wederzijds begrip en een goede verstandhouding tussen de in Nederland woonachtige bevolkingsgroepen’. In de vele jaren dat de prijs bestaat, veranderde de universiteit haar naam van Katholieke Universiteit Brabant in Universiteit van Tilburg en vervolgens in Tilburg University, en veranderde de Faculteit der Letteren in de Faculteit voor Communicatie en Cultuur, vervolgens in Faculteit Geesteswetenschappen en uiteindelijk in Tilburg School of Humanities and Digital Sciences. De prijs echter draagt al meer dan twintig jaar dezelfde naam: die van de beroemde schrijver E. du Perron.

# Meer informatie op website: www.tilburguniversity.edu/duperronprijs

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Herman Melville: Art (Poem)

 

Art

In placid hours well-pleased we dream
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create,
What unlike things must meet and mate:
A flame to melt–a wind to freeze;
Sad patience–joyous energies;
Humility–yet pride and scorn;
Instinct and study; love and hate;
Audacity–reverence. These must mate,
And fuse with Jacob’s mystic heart,
To wrestle with the angel–Art.

Herman Melville
(1819 – 1891)
Art

 

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Morning Glory on the Vine. Early Songs and Drawings by Joni Mitchell

Originally handcrafted in 1971 as a gift for friends, this edition of Joni Mitchell’s best-loved poems, illustrations, watercolours and hand-lettered song lyrics is now publicly available for the first time. The perfect present for any Joni Mitchell fan.

Joni Mitchell is a Canadian singer-songwriter whose songs have helped define an era and a generation. She has received many accolades, including nine Grammy Awards, and has released 19 studio albums, including Blue in 1971. Mitchell, with roots in visual art, has designed most of her own album covers. Among her numerous honours, she was awarded a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2002 and was inducted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2007.

The result was a handmade book, with only one hundred copies produced, filled with Joni’s hand-written lyrics and reproductions of many of her stunning drawings — portraits, abstracts, random concertgoers, and more.

Each was given to a friend and, until now, the edition has remained private. Today, with Morning Glory on the Vine, Joni’s long-ago personal Christmas present is a present to us all.

A gorgeous compendium of Joni Mitchell’s handwritten lyrics and watercolor paintings, originally handcrafted as a gift for a select group of friends in 1971 and now available to the public for the first time.

In 1971, as her album Blue topped charts around the world, Joni Mitchell crafted one hundred copies of Morning Glory on the Vine as a holiday gift for her closest friends. For this stunningly beautiful book, Joni hand-wrote an exquisite selection of her own lyrics and poems and illustrated them with more than thirty of her original paintings and watercolors. Hand-crafted, signed, and numbered in Los Angeles, the existing copies of this labor of love have rarely been seen in the past half-century.

Now, as Joni celebrates her seventy-fifth birthday, Morning Glory on the Vine: Early Songs and Drawings is available widely for the first time. In this faithfully reproduced facsimile edition, Joni’s best-loved lyrics and poems spill across the pages in her own elegant script. The lively, full-color watercolor paintings depict a superb array of landscapes, still-lifes, portraits of friends, self portraits, innovative abstractions, and more.

All the paintings from the original book are included, along with several additional works that Joni had intended to include for her friends in 1971. Finally, the refreshed volume features an original introduction written by Joni herself. Morning Glory on the Vine is a gorgeous and intimate keepsake and an invitation to explore anew the dazzling, visionary world of Joni Mitchell.

JONI MITCHELL is widely regarded as one of the greatest singer-songwriters of her generation. Her album Blue (1971) is often cited as one of the best albums of all time. Mitchell has won nine Grammys in various categories, including traditional pop, pop music and lifetime achievement. Born in Canada, she now lives in her longtime home of Los Angeles.

From the Publisher:

joni mitchell morning glory on the vine
“I sing my sorrow, and I paint my joy.” – Joni Mitchell

In the early 1970s I used to carry a sketchbook around with me everywhere I went. I drew with colored pens. Once when I was sketching my audience in Central Park, they had to drag me onto the stage. After a while I had quite a collection of drawings. The drawings were becoming more important to me than the music at that time.
I had put the drawings into a ring binder accompanied by hand-written lyrics. Elliot Roberts, my manager, and David Geffen, my agent, took my binder of drawings and lyrics and had a limited edition of books made up.
It’s been a long time coming in making this book public, but we’re publishing it now. Work is meant to be seen, or heard, as the case may be.

–Joni Mitchell, 2019

Morning Glory on the Vine
Early Songs and Drawings
by Joni Mitchell
Hardcover: 136 pages
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
(October 22, 2019)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0358181720
ISBN-13: 978-0358181729
Product Dimensions: 8.8 x 1.2 x 11 inches
£30.00

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