Wednesday, 22 August 2007
love.
poetry comes from love, not from despair or darkness, this is only self-indulgence. love makes everyone a poet. love of another person makes for a short lived career, unless one keeps their larder constantly stocked, as some poets do. this view is rather narrow. it is the love of the world that is the poet's life force, the mystical love that powers the greatest poets and their greatest works. despair looks at a point, eyes downcast, a view inward. love looks all around and into eternity.
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6 comments:
found myself quoted on the net, @http://blog.quareidfaciam.net/, would have been nice to hear from him first but then i suppose the internet is a copyright free for all. whatever, it did my ego good even if he didnt get it. here's for simplicity!
Hey. My apologies. Wouldn't have occurred to me to ask, I confess. But I didn't mean to appropriate your words, only to point them out as something I'd found to think about. I suppose these matters are subject to interpretation, though.
You may be right that I don't get it — I'm no intellectual, certainly no poet. My education has mostly been shit. Still, I'm a reader. Too much thought for 'getting it' can get in the way of reading usefully I think — sometimes, anyway.
Found you via David's site Realnaya. Mention me to him, if you run into him. He'll tell you I'm pretty harmless, I expect.
: )
oops feel like a prat now, that's what you get for leaving comments pissed.
i'm really not that clever, or well read and i do hope i'm not coming across as someone who is overly serious about his own work, although on the evidence...
:-O
Thanks for the kind reply! My own comment-box sins are many, many. I'm casting no stones. (And who is forgiven much loves much, it may be worth recalling here, for both our sakes.)
Hope you will keep the varied material coming, here.
[...] it is the love of the world that is the poet's life force, the mystical love that powers the greatest poets and their greatest works. [...]
Hm, if I were leaving / had left her site without telling her the thought I had when reading the passage above she would not come to know them, and still could happily live without. :)
Well, to cut it short: When reading these lines I did immediately think of my friend Giulio Stocchi who dedicated his life and poetry to love.
If interested, just "google" his name, and you will easily find his site and quite a few about him. Most will be in Italian, but there are some "English" poems, too.
In case this visit should happen to be my second - the first and the last :) - good luck for your work, and lots of inspiration.
The Peace of the Night.
... 382 days later ...
:) Ah, this is so lovely.
Thanks for linking from there to here, Chris.
Ha, time flies. So we had an anniversary! :)
Now would Mrs J. not seldom say 'Sean, you are the - mind you, not 'a' :) - master of exaggeration', [she is, of course, awfully exaggerating].
Still, that is why I declare I am not at all exaggerating when writing the following:
Looking back I thínk/feel it was something like serendipity that let me stumble upon this blog, i.e. you.
It's good to 'have' you. Thank you very much, my friend.
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