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HANNAH ARENDT ~ ON POETRY

in Poetical Visions by
Hannah-Arendt-jeune4

Poetry, whose material is language, is perhaps the most human and least worldly of the arts, the one in which the end product remains closest to the thought that inspired it.  

Hannah Arendt

TERESA WILMS MONTT ~ “TO DIE, AFTER FEELING EVERYTHING AND BEING NOTHING…”

in Poetical Visions by
teresa-wilms01

TERESA WILMS MONTT  POET FROM CHILE (Viña del Mar, 1893 – París 1921): She was born in a wealthy family, daughter of Federico Guillermo Wilms Montt and Brieba, and his wife Luz Victoria Montt and Montt. Given the social context of that time, her primary instruction was given to her by governesses and particular teachers.
When Teresa turned 17, she got married with Gustavo Balmaceda Valdés. In the following years (1911 y 1913) she gave birth to her daughters, Elisa and Silvia Luz. Almost right after the wedding, the problems between Gustavo and Teresa started, mainly due to how much the husband felt aggravated by his wife’s personality, who frequently attended to literary gatherings, and followed the anarchist ideals, and free masonry. Gustavo reacted sheltering himself in the gambling and alcohol; Teresa, on her side, sheltered herself in her friend and Gustavo’s cousin, Vicente Balmaceda Zañartu (whom she will refer on the future at her diaries as Jean).
After numerous marital conflicts, moving from one city to another and letters from Vicente Balmaceda addressed to Teresa, Gustavo Balmaceda convened a family trial, which contaminated her confinement in the convent of Preciosa Sangre, which she entered on October 18th of 1915, and escaped from it on June of 1916 setting off for Buenos Aires, helped by Vicente Huidobro. During her stay in the convent, she started a journal, in which she wrote her feelings about the loss of her daughters, being separated from Vicente Balmaceda and the motivations for her first suicide attempt on March 29th, 1916.
In Buenos Aires, she contributed to Nosotros magazines, in which also did contributed Gabriela Mistral and Ángel Cruchaga Santa María, among others. She also published her first work “Inquietudes Sentimentales”, a collection of fifty poems with surrealistic threads, that enjoyed an amazing success among the intellectual circles of Buenos Aires society. the same happened to “Los Tres Cantos”, work that explored eroticism and spirituality.
Two years after this work and after traveling to Barcelona and New York, she came back to Buenos Aires and published “Cuentos para Hombres que Todavía son Niños”. In it she evoked her childhood and some vital experiences, in tales of great originality and fantasy. “En la Inquietud del Mármol” was published in Barcelona and constituted a lyric toned elegy, made of 35 fragments, which central leitmotif was death. Written on first person, she focused her interest on the mediating role of love between life and death.
She continued traveling across Europe, visiting London and Paris, but always being a resident of Madrid. In 1920 she was reunited with her daughters in Paris; but after they were separated she become gravely ill. In this crisis, she consumed a large dose of Barbital , and she died on December 24th 1921.

In the last pages of her diary, she wrote: “To die, after feeling everything and being nothing…”.

Source count of the Moon

EMILY DICKINSON ~ HOPE

in Poetry of Art by
george-frederick-watts-hope-79536

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
… And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson ~ Hope

George Frederick Watts ~ Hope

FEELING OF IMMORTALITY ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK

in Poetry of Art/My own creations by
vrubel60

FEELING OF IMMORTALITY

Please stop, I need silence inside
Be quiet, there is so much noise
No longer is it possible to live
Words are floating away from me
Dragged along with the ocean tide

My body and soul are kept in piece
While walking along this seashore
Feelings are drawn away from me
Picked up by the unpredictable tide
Gone forever dragged into the deep

New waves keep arriving onshore
The water looks so tender and soft
But at the same time so very cruel
I am much aware of my vulnerability
So small am I in the presence of you

Why did you always need control
You have drowned my personality
And the water continued to call me
Always these same waveless voices
Why didn’t you just let me drift away

A meander of tears escaping my eyes
This desperate heart of mine is leaking
Flooding my remorse and bitter feelings
A pool  which colors are nothing but dark
Slowly vaporized by the heat of hatred

The sand sticks to my feet as if a warning
But its no use I am encouraged to walk on
This luring abyss is dangerously present
A constant flux of changes but I hesitate
Before me the sun disappears at horizons end

I realize I am just focused on my own pain
Words no longer reach my sinking heart
But the emotional wound is cut too deep
I am desperately seeking my own relief
Do I honestly think this is not the end?

Monique Lucy Weberink
January, 2012



Demon and Angel with Tamara’s Soul (1891) by Vrubel

EMILY DICKINSON ~ THE SPLITTING OF THE BRAIN

in Art & the Unconscious Mind/Poetry of Art by
emily

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind…
as if my Brain has split..
I tried to match it – Seam by Seam –
But could not make it fit.

Emily Dickinson

ROBERT MUSIL ~ THE MEANING OF POETRY

in Poetical Visions by
musil

“Ultimately a poem, and the mystery of it, cuts the meaning of the world clear, where it is bound fast by thousands of ordinary words …”

Robert Musil

Austrian author (1880-1942) of the famous novel The Man without Qualities

GABRIELA MISTRAL ~ DUSK

in Poetry of Art by
MistralGabriela

DUSK

I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.

Gabriela Mistral
(April 7, 1889 – January 10, 1957 / Vicuna / Chile)

MALLARME ~ THE CREATION OF SILENCE

in Poetical Visions by
mallarme

“It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.”
~Stephen Mallarme

JORGE LUIS BORGES ~ THE SUM

in A Mysterious Encounter with the Moon/Poetry of Art by
pether

The silent friendliness of the moon

(misquoting Virgil) accompanies you

since that one night or evening lost

in time now, on which your restless

eyes first deciphered her forever

in a garden or patio turned to dust.

Forever? I know someone, someday

will be able to tell you truthfully:

‘You’ll never see the bright moon again,

You’ve now achieved the unalterable

sum of moments granted you by fate.

Useless to open every window

in the world. Too late. You’ll not find her.’

We live discovering and forgetting

that sweet familiarity of the night.

Take a long look. It might be the last.

Jorge Luis Borges

Painting is “Moon light over the Seine”
Henry Pether (1828-1865)

LIGHTHOUSE IN THE NIGHT ~ POEM BY ALFONSINA STORNI

in Poetry of Art by
storni

The sky a black sphere,
the sea a black disk.

The lighthouse opens
its solar fan on the coast.

Spinning endlessly at night,
whom is it searching for

when the mortal heart
looks for me in the chest?

Look at the black rock
where it is nailed down.

A crow digs endlessly
but no longer bleeds.

Alfonsina Storni
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