A poem in a difficult time
is beautiful flowers in a cemetery.
—Mahmoud Darwish
From the poem, “To a Young Poet”
Translation by Fady Joudah
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
3.15.2026
11.01.2024
flowers are few
Much that charms is small and fleeting
To the greatness of eternity.
The earth is a tiny shadow tottering on the edge of death;
The moon is a throb of splendor in the heart of the night;
And the stars are ephemera in the long gaze of God.
So grieve not
That your poems are the cool, fresh grass of a short summer;
The flowers are few.
—Pascal D’Angelo, last eight lines of “To Some Modern Poets,” Of Clouds and Mists: The Collected Poems (Sublunary Editions, 2024), with an introduction and Notes by Dennis Barone
To the greatness of eternity.
The earth is a tiny shadow tottering on the edge of death;
The moon is a throb of splendor in the heart of the night;
And the stars are ephemera in the long gaze of God.
So grieve not
That your poems are the cool, fresh grass of a short summer;
The flowers are few.
—Pascal D’Angelo, last eight lines of “To Some Modern Poets,” Of Clouds and Mists: The Collected Poems (Sublunary Editions, 2024), with an introduction and Notes by Dennis Barone
Labels:
eternity,
fleeting,
flowers,
grass,
modern poets,
pascal d'angelo
7.25.2017
certain things
One thing is certain, and I have always known it—the joys of my life have nothing to do with age. They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about...
—May Sarton, quoted in From May Sarton’s Well: Writings of May Sarton (Papier-Mache Press, 1994), selection and photographs by Edith Royce Schade. (p. 46)
—May Sarton, quoted in From May Sarton’s Well: Writings of May Sarton (Papier-Mache Press, 1994), selection and photographs by Edith Royce Schade. (p. 46)
Labels:
age,
change,
elemental things,
evening,
flowers,
goldfinches,
life,
light,
may sarton,
morning,
music,
nature,
universal
1.23.2014
5.04.2013
roses that are looked at
"the roses / Had the look of flowers that are looked at." So goes a line from the "Burnt Norton" section of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. For twenty years that line was in my mind as, "the roses had the look of roses that are looked at." Perhaps some Steinian involution had inflected my memory. I think I like my version better.
Labels:
flowers,
gertrude stein,
memory,
misquoting,
roses,
t.s. eliot
7.20.2008
poetry of flowers
The poetry of flowers contains no pedantry and no affectation.
—Anna Fitch Ferguson, Bits of Philosophy (1933)
(At a book sale, I found this lovely little book by a woman who lived much like Thoreau at Walden Pond: simply, with a writing implement and ready aphorism.)
—Anna Fitch Ferguson, Bits of Philosophy (1933)
(At a book sale, I found this lovely little book by a woman who lived much like Thoreau at Walden Pond: simply, with a writing implement and ready aphorism.)
Labels:
affectation,
anna fitch ferguson,
flowers,
pedantry,
quote
12.23.2007
beauty & ugliness
Flowers are made to seduce the senses: fragrance, form, colour.
If you can not be seduced by beauty, you can not learn the wisdom of ugliness.
—H.D., “Notes on Thought and Vision, Scilly Islands, July 1919,” Notes On Thought And Vision & The Wise Sappho (City Lights 1982) with an introduction by Albert Gelphi
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