time!
you refused to stop then.
i recant my softness
and my goodness.
the quietness of the leaf
i will break it to pieces.
time!
you refused to bend
to my siren song.
i recant the curve
of my eyebrow
the wholeness of my knee
the glow of my hip
and the ineffable
of my navel.
the grace of the flower
i will tear it apart.
my stabbing red whisper
i will hurl it at you.
time!
you will go down
you will go blind
i will strangle you
with the blue ribbon
of my blood.
cela me fais penser à de la soie dans le vent je suis là romantique souvenir de couleurs dans la traversée du miroir: connais-tu Rousseau j'entends ces mots"On prétend que les hommes inventèrent la parole pour exprimer leurs besoins" Cette opinion me paraît insoutenable.
ReplyDeleteGosh! someone's in an angry mood! :-)
ReplyDeleteyou must try a cinnamon roll with your tea..works wonders against "time"
salaams,
b.
we need well trained group of suicide bombers to elliminate the guy called TIME.. however sometimes I thank him for allowing me bit more matured along his dimension, letting me forget those foolish things I had done and getting me out of regret.. Roxana, I love your blue blood.. :p
ReplyDeleteaah... so you got ditched that sweet girl in the end? tsk tsk, must be sad, losing out to the props...
ReplyDeletehe he he
Roxana, hi
ReplyDeleteit is a magnificent poem, one i wished i had written!
your pictures are violent. i like them.
This fury against time is worth it, if it makes such beauty (well … worth it for us, who see the pictures and read the poem --- for you, that might be another story….).
ReplyDeleteYou remind me of this (surprising me a little):
“Time is not, Time is the evil, beloved
Beloved the hours brododaktylos
as against the half-light of the window…
…a dream passing over the face in the half-light…
“beauty is difficult” sd/ Mr. Beardsley”
Ezra Pound, Canto LXXIV
As Pound suggests, the one meaningful thing we have that we can set against time is the making of beauty. And just as he reaches back through the centuries to caress Sappho’s word “brododaktylos,” “rosy-fingered,” (the goddess, the dawn), so you, too, embody this beauty / rage in red flowers against a blue and white that, for me, might recall sky.
This inflorescence of heat and color (and fury? and blood? and passion?) thrills me. Time is defeated here. And defeated in the poem, which I love, too, especially: “time! / you will go down / you will go blind / i will strangle you / with the blue ribbon / of my blood”. …. Oh --- my words here are superfluous --- I really mean to say that I am going back again and again to the post….
you got me thinking of time and our relation with it
ReplyDeletehow time makes possible all that makes us human - emotions, thoughts, beauty, music, words - and yet we always fight it, mostly through/with those very things
is it our humanity we fight
how much is pride
and how much fear of death
the first photo and the poem blended beautifully
flori inmuiate in singe ?
ReplyDeleteflori ce cinta in disperare !
dragoste si noapte
disperare si sensibilitate
toate laolalta , ziduri pentru ochi si suflet
an excelent explosion of color and light, I gather moments were intense in nature, explosive in leftovers...
ReplyDeletesiam, de la soie dans le vent, oui, tu as raison! je le vois aussi, maintenant :-) par rapport a Rousseau, completement insoutenable, c'est vrai, je n'ai jamais pu comprendre la fascination du mythe "Rousseau" en general.
ReplyDeleteb, I wonder how anyone could have ever thought of 'food disorder' in your case, as you are complaining in your post :-)
no, I really appreciate your willingness to comfort me, but I am afraid c.r. wouldn't be an effective weapon against time either. the only predictable result would be that my future self-portrait series will have to give up the 'crescent moon' and show a gorgeous 'full moon' instead (finally the full moon!) :-)
peter, ha, 'trained group of suicide bombers' :-)
what foolish things? :-P
zuma, what sweet girl? :-P I don't understand the English phrase: 'losing out to the props', but judging from your self-satisfied grin (tsktsk + hehe) I should better refrain from asking :-)
ReplyDeletekubla, thank you so much. I am glad that you liked the poem. and there is a certain violence here, yes, though it has surprised me too when I saw the results.
ah, james, brododaktylos, what a lovely word... and I like the whole stanza, I haven't read Pound, I must confess, somehow I had the feeling that I wouldn't like him (how foolish prejudices like these can appear, I don't know).
if I believe Valery, 'furor' is no good for creativity either :-) but perhaps it is different with pictures :-)
your words are never superfluous here. mine are, not knowing how to thank you for taking care of my pictures and my words, as always.
Manuela, thank you for sharing these questions to which I don't have any answers...
ReplyDeletedo you know Jean Burgos' study: Pour une poetique de l'imaginaire? it deals with the forms (patterns) in which imagination deals with time (revolt, withdrawal and going-along with) and which, in their turn, are mirrored in the way we act upon space. it is very interesting, a short outline here:
"Jean Burgos dégage trois modalités d’organisation de l’espace. La première s’inscrit dans une dynamique de « conquête » ou de révolte devant le temps qui passe, qui s’exprime par une possession de l’espace « dans toutes ses dimensions et à tous les niveaux ». La deuxième structure est de « repli », ou de refus du temps qui passe, et se traduit par la construction et l’aménagement de maisons-refuges. Pour ce qui est de la troisième, elle consiste en une attitude de « progrès », ou de ruse avec le temps qui passe, qui réside dans l’utilisation de ce dernier et de ses mesures pour occuper l’espace."
cornel, multumesc pentru toata poezia pe care ai vazut-o aici...
gabi, sometimes such explosions are needed, aren't they? thank you for your lovely words.
Frumoasa tare ultima!!:-)
ReplyDeleteI meant the girl in the series prior to this. I can see its the same background so obviously you just summarily started ignoring the poor lady and shooting the bedspread (?) and flowers instead (I'm guessing being suddenly gripped by said expressionist fury). Losing out the props means just that - its not an English expression (since you asked, even though you didnt 'ask'), just a factual observation that the model lost out to the props ("props" being the objects that share the frame with the actor/model).
ReplyDeleteAnyways, it was a tongue-in-cheek observation. Best not to give much importance.
sarumana Edith :-)
ReplyDeletezuma aaaaaaah
ReplyDeleteno, it is a very apt and funny comment, I laugh even now when I think of it (I know, it's pathetic, isn't it, to laugh after the joke has been explained).
in my defense I can only say that I would have got that ditched-girl part if it weren't for my poem, I thought you were speaking about the sweet alter-ego of the 'I' there.
as to the 'props', I really didn't know what it meant. but how do you know it wasn't the other way round, that I first photographed the props and then seized by the redblue fury I grabbed the poor girl and forced her to sit there for me, hence her sad and perhaps resentful gaze :-)
anyway, you have a keen eye, these are bedsheets, but for the love of the detail (I think every detail is important if you want to win a trial, isn't it? :-) I shall add: (sacrificed) bedsheets hung against the light.
Beautiful photos!
ReplyDelete