Thursday 8 October 2009

Requiem for D

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a step of light.
the threshold between this thought exactly
and the next.
a black tulip's longing for you
to become again.
filled with time, as only the beautiful dead
can be, your back turned to us,
the ever praying ones.
why do you cry, when you can rain
you said, tearing
through unknown layers of pain.




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your body, this field of may.
i walk through the cold dew
sit down for a while
gather flowers in the folds of my dress,
their heads bending toward the sky.
look, i said to the Painter,
it's like this that she moves her arms
in the sea of blue paleness.




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your soul, the white bird of trembling,
the dark bird of knowing.
you have come for the seeds of speech,
the worms you had planted in the Poet's mouth
even before you left.





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36 comments:

  1. One of my favorite musical pieces of all time is Requiem and so I like that you've titled this tribute in this way.

    Now that I've said that, and because I understand the depth of the words here, because I "know", I want to tell you how these words brought me to tears. I want to tell you that I don't cry so easily anymore, and yet, now I've been opened.

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  2. dearest S., again we meet here like this, at the same time.

    i know you know. and your tears make more flowers blossom on these fields...

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  3. What you do is so right, so clear, and so true - that you may never deny the title Poetess Who Paints Soul Pictures With Light.
    D. and I both are Honoured.

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  4. some lovely photos, r-especially the fiery ones. I didn't know you had pigeons in Ro-mania, though. Or was that the hand of gentle in Trafalgar square?

    salaams,

    b.

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  5. these are surely old pictures? i can't believe you still have tulips blooming!

    black tulips tho. i shan;t be complaining! lovely!

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  6. yes.. you are the D.

    Deities are
    in your white pale hand
    for food for the mortal,
    in your eyes revealing
    His world of glory,
    in your heart defending the poor
    with no love on earth,
    and in your soul embracing
    the whole things for the dedication to Him..

    utterly beautiful and lovely..mr

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  7. Superbe, toate! Felicitari, Roxi!

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  8. Beautiful and perfect beyond words, the images and the poem.

    I love

    "a step of light.
    the threshold between this thought exactly
    and the next."

    and

    "look, i said to the Painter,
    it's like this that she moves her arms
    in the sea of blue paleness."

    I am stunned and grateful for you, and standing quietly in the light you make....

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  9. Magnifique, comme toujours...
    Amitiés,
    K'line

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  10. Une mort annoncée alors...! Mais n'est-ce pas là le commun de chacun ? Ou bien préparée...? Mais peut-on savoir si les graines prendront leur envol...? Décidée...? Je ne me permettrais pas de juger...!
    Qu'est- ce qu'une belle mort car la Vie ne connait ni le beau ni le lait...! Celui qui meurt disparait-il vraiment...? Dans les émotions de ceux qui restent, il y a les souvenirs du vivant...! Et dans ceux qui "partent"...

    Une sensibilité et un texte, pour moi, émouvants et touchants...

    Amitiés Roxana...

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  11. Hi, Roxana

    your flowers make me say that in reality flowers are never like these? they are so fragile, their state so unlasting. there is some aggression and defiance in your tulips. now i am not implying to them what is not there, nor is this a 'new' reading of your photos.just thinking.....there is a raw sensuality in the last photo, maybe that is what is so defiant?

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  12. Kubla, what you have written is wonderful.

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  13. tulips like teardrops falling into the sky

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  14. Au fait Roxana... Du soleil dans ton coeur, celui de tes proches... et les autres aussi ! ! !...:-)))

    Excellente journée bella !
    Peace... and amour !
    Paix... et love !
    Tranquille quoi...! ! !

    Ciao bella !...;-)

    PS : Je sais ! Juste pour dire ça...! et alors...!

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  15. Les vers qui rongent le bois sont transfigurés et aboutissent de tes lèvres en vers poétique (worms and verse are the same word in French!). Mon impression des ses pellicules, qui se courroucent contre la douleur, est souvent accompagnée de vertiges et d’éblouissements. Ses images jettent une lueur blafarde sur mon âme.

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  16. The nails in the first photo
    The nailheads just showing
    Embedded in the wood
    Speak of coffins and coffin nails
    Of finger bones rasping on planks
    Scraping at the agonizing scent
    Of black tulips
    Yet the following paintings
    Full of color light and motion
    Bely all notion of death
    Singing of sunshine
    And painters wielding brush and oil
    The wind blows freely
    Through the swaying skirts
    Of a hundred dancing tulip women
    While pigeons come to pluck seeds
    From the womb of magician's hand
    Swirling wings beat incense smoke
    Linear thoughts give way to mystery
    Leaving a small boy hiding
    Under a bench in the park
    Trembling
    Trembling at the joy of it all...

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  17. Roxana Belle composition et tons fabuleux!! Joliment fait! les tulipes donne de la grâce et leurs têtes vers le haut pour respirer en fait la respiration des tulipes par les racines et bien je pense les deux par le haut et le bas . Tu connais enracinée l'arbre un jour si le temps de permet va vers un arbres enlace le ;tu va sentir de l'énergie en ferment les yeux, une technique que utilise les pratiquants de Qi gong des heurs au centre de la végétation.

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  18. merc, i am grateful that i have met you.

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  19. b, i think i mentioned somewhere that i have never been to Britain - so no, your dreams about gentle's pigeoned hands are doomed to remain dreams, but what can be more beautiful than that? :-P


    thank you for such an unexpected visit :-) and for liking my pigeons and "some" of my flowers.

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  20. swiss
    oh, they are from may :-)
    the flower festival!
    (yet we had 28C until two days ago, so warm indeed, and no rain :-P)

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  21. Peter, did you write that?!
    this is indeed very lovely: "Deities are
    in your white pale hand".

    i thank you for a very moving comment, P.

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  22. multumesc, Gabi, ce bine imi pare sa te mai aud :-)

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  23. James, no, i am stunned that you spend so much time with my little and frail words - which i don't dare to call poems, yet in this case i hope they managed to become a prayer.

    it is a very special post to me, i struggled to write it, in many ways.

    thank you.

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  24. merci, K'line, de tout coeur!

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  25. Oui Jeff, tu as bien compris ce que je voulais exprimer, d’une part le caractère implacable de toute mort – on est en face de quelque chose qu’on ne peut pas contourner, qui nous écrase avec l’affirmation de sa présence/absence – d’autre part, la seule manière que l’on a pour lutter contre, l’art, la mémoire...
    c’est pour cela que j’ai choisi des couleurs si vives et si brillantes pour mes photos.

    Je te remercie pour ton empathie, ta chaleur et pour ton amour de la vie, Jeff.

    bises...

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  26. Kubla, as always you see beyond the visible layers of my pictures. defiance, opposing death with what frail tools we have (memory, perhaps art?). i first looked for my usual kind of pictures, hazier, blurred - but then i felt the urge to go for something entirely different, i needed that rebellion, that explosive affirmation of Joy.

    thank you again and again.

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  27. Manuela, yes. it's exactly that.

    (oh, your first comment from that cafe in which you hide from the bright scene of the unsettling new city!)

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  28. My French is not so good as to be able to read it well enough...but I feel the sentiment.
    And not to single out, but for shear resonance, Owen, I marvel.
    I am struck strongly by this post and comments, you are all wonderful.
    Perhaps it shows that if we at least attempt to stretch out our frail human hand, this little act somehow shifts this bare world.
    And I thank you all, D. would have been overwhelmed...but not for long, She being She and knowing such things innately transpire.
    Ah Roxana, what can I say of meeting you other than without you I would have not been able to complete Nekyia.

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  29. Prospero,

    Tu te rappelles quand Rimbaud disait: „J'écrivais des silences, des nuits, je notais l'inexprimable. Je fixais des vertiges”? J’ai longtemps pensé que c’était là un pouvoir réservé à la littérature. Comme je me trompais... et maintenant tu vois au-delà de mes vers (quelle inquiétante homonymie, tu as raison), jusqu’au vertige dans mes images... et puis la révolte, oui, elle sera toujours là, une révolte que nourrit peut-être, paradoxalement, un rêve de douceur et de tendresse extrêmes, à jamais atteintes (où perdues au moment même de leur réalisation)...

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  30. oh, Owen, you honoured me and this post and merc and all of us here with such a beautiful poem... thank you, i don't know how i could answer that. your gesture is so touching. the image of the wind blowing freely through the swaying skirts of a hundred dancing tulip women - and of that little boy trembling with joy, i won't forget them so easily...

    thank you from all my heart...

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  31. oh, merc.
    i have so often wondered about the ability of the frail human hand to shift the bare world -
    now i know better. i know this in you and in me.

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  32. err..I dunno, maybe reality is more beautiful than the doomed dream?

    But tell me, are you the only person who can see/photograph gentle's hands? I'm beginning to wonder if gentle even really exists.

    And no, you didn't tell me. You must visit sometime. I know just the place for you. I always take visitors there. There are no more pigeons in Trafalgar square, btw :(

    [a bit like Mao's no bird policy!}.
    A bloody nuisance, if you ask me.

    "some" doesn't always distinguish between categories-I think. As in: these are some lovely photos. Does "some" carry with it, necessarily carry with it, the intention of drawing distinctions? Not sure.

    Khair...

    Take care, r.

    hi! :-)

    b.

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  33. strang in suflet aceste minunate flori si culori...

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  34. aah to come back to black tulips, perfect

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  35. Sorlil!
    i am so happy you returned :-)

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