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Posts tagged “poetic cadence

where the marigolds lie (where they liest – ’tis a mix of tense and time)

I’m from here, but write in tongues of another, for my land is not mine own
I’m here, but my song is not mine own
I am with you, for we seek a better home

(Home?)

Where is home if it not be bathed in thine eyes?
Where?

Is it the cheesy cake, baked from millions of years ¹(that art)   past and ¹(that art) gone? —
Is it thy lines, written upon thy face?
Is it in the letter sent my mother
Or in my brother’s embrace?
(Is it) thy gaze that takest me to wonder?
(Is it) thy most supple, strong embrace ?
I wonder dear, where the marigolds lie
As I long thy strapping grace
Upon hill and dale
And anywhere (whence)
My cumbersome eyes thou (hast) traced

 

 


 author’s note: — italics only in song version —
(or not)
If they are in a bluish hue,
they are (or ought to be)
paired off, each whole or in bits
(or with others of similar chromatic presence elsewhere below)
the ¹  is an extra –a superfluous appendix for ”that art’

You may find it at the very end of the present article


 é o que me está a apetecer ouvir

 

 

 


that art thou art
mine
mine
takest
liest
mine (my)
inflection
hast
(behold)
my (mine)
reflection

takest

thine
embrace

.

( the pronominal phrase, 
  the nominal reflection { ?  }  a case in time   or mere inflection  ) 

 

 

 

 

 

 ¹*   [ this poem above is for the reader to verse either in fugued form – ad libitum , or straight through]

.
 


IndiaInkOnPaper_GuidaAlmeida_03_2016

 

 

thou art art  though thou art not
thou art that art that thou art not
thou art not that art
thou art art.
thou in art and thou without
thou art
thou art,
thou art not,
and

thou art that art that thou art
and are not.

 

 

 

 

 

²*     [ this  poem is to be read as is ]

 

 

 

 

 


•  ''where the marigolds lie (where they liest - 'tis a mix of tense and time)''

— is the title of the first as well as all three poems , together,  and it was made to be read (or recited).   

gui

[author’s other note –
”Three poems – from word to song – ”
(this note is mostly for me)

*The coloured italics
used in the ”bridge”
(adjacent / modulating modes),
 but also still remain 
in respective section and sequel.
(whether they be ”worded” or not).
*The ”b” (second) section – the use of
hocket, and through
contrapuntal devices
*The ”c”(third) section – for the coda]

*for the work based on:
« where the marigolds lie (where they liest – ’tis a mix of tense and time) »

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

(final note)

Hope all are well – and may good health find you when you need it. 
Take care.

 

 

 

 


APPENDIX

¹  (that art)

That art is an art
Cascading redemption
It hath a heart
Seeth contention
Be it song
Be it slight
Be it wrong
Be it flight
The longest breeze
Claspeth thy knees
In relentless wonder
Whilst ye slumber
– It hath no number
Hath no jury
A fury

Redeeming invention

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

.


Ponto & Linha: oito linhas de prosa, linha vertical por quinze (linhas) de prosa, e novamente oito (linhas), sete ou dez pontos conforme a prosa — [a culpa é do Kandinsky].

'a view' - by G. Almeida

 

uma imensidão de estrelas, o som do mar…  A noite dá-nos a visão do que o
sol oculta, que nos engrandece pelo diminuto que é a nossa casa e a nossa
condição.  A viagem, que é efémera, que no paradoxo da sua fragilidade
contém uma força que torna possível contemplar o eterno, despe-se.
Segue-se em direcções e em distancias várias, de tempo, e de espaço (que
se tornam sinónimos e multiplicáveis), o cosmos não se acanhando com a
jaula da nossa cognição, e, pára-se.  Pára-se perante o canto de um grilo
que de baixo da amendoeira canta.

(Boa noite)

 

 

prosa escrita originalmente, por mim – 24 de Julho de 2016 

 

 

 


Uma imensidão de estrelas, o som do mar   A noite dá-nos  a
visão  do  que o sol oculta, que nos engrandece pelo diminuto que é a
nossa casa e a nossa condição. A viagem, que é efémera, que
no paradoxo da sua fragilidade contém uma força que torna possível contemplar o
eterno,
despe-se.
Segue-se em direcções e em distancias várias, de tempo, e de espaço (que se tornam sinónimos e
multiplicáveis), o cosmos não se acanhando com a jaula da nossa cognição,
e,
pára-se.   Párase
perante  o canto de
um
grilo
que  de  baixo da amendoeira  
canta.




Uma visão nossa no eterno despe-se. Segue-se  (multiplicáveis) e pára-se
perante um grilo que canta

 

… imensidão de estrelas, o som do mar…  A noite dá-nos  o  que o sol  oculta,
que nos engrandece pelo diminuto que  é a casa e a nossa condição.   

A viagem,  que é efémera, que, paradoxo da sua fragilidade
contém  uma força  
que torna possível contemplar
em direcções e em distancias várias
de tempo 
e de espaço  que
se tornam sinónimos,  e o cosmos,   não se acanhando  
com a jaula da nossa cognição — páram  

perante o canto de baixo da amendoeira. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 


Prelude & Basso Ostinato, Ballada, Prelude, Harlem Mist, and Angelico (- and – I suppose I may be tempted to leave a Haiku – but – only after listening to Angelico or the previous prelude. Hmmmm – perhaps a Sicilian Tercet…)

 

Ah, but, I must soon stop hovering and awaken.

(ok- it’s true I did see the sun rise – but – I’m still in that blue hour mode)

__________
Good morning.

 

 

(Prelude & Basso Ostinato

 

 

 

 

(Ballada)

 

 

 

 

(Prelude – from the ”Petite Suite”, performed by M. Henriques)

 

 

 

 

(”Harlem Mist” – from the album *Wilderness)
 

 

 

 

(”Angelico” – from Musica Callada  / Book 1 – 1)

 

 

 

(haiku)


Dripping rays of light
trickling through – key after key
as the gentlest rain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


(Sicilian tercet)

 

trickling, A sweet torrent mist in the night,
adrift mid-air then settling  in layers,
wraps yon blue hour as it comes to full height

 

from that moistened, warm heart that drifts and sails
aloft, mid-air then settling in prayers
as the blanket is woven –  for one’s trails

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_________–_______________

 

 

 

 

 

 






Ok – ok – I had seen the following video posted and had saved its LINK  to watch later when I’d come back .
(so I’ll leave it here as well, for when I come back). It was to have been posted yesterday, but I got sidetracked.

( I suppose I can also leave a link with the full proceedings, https://youtu.be/j5u1skEoqLs?t=354 )

 


Wishing all a nice day –

close up photo of dog wearing sunglasses

Photo by Ilargian Faus on Pexels.com

 

 

 

.


A moment (a fleeting moment, a poetic cadence, a moment)

 

 

 

There’s something rather poetic and difficult to describe when you chance upon opening an account you have on a social media network, and come across a piece you rarely hear performed (it’s a lovely piece, by composer: Francisco Lacerda).  It starts to play  and suddenly before your eyes appears something else.  As you look you inequivocally, and instantly feel yourself identify with the youngling, saying – ”Aw, the same as me with my dog”) – but, what you’re listening to takes you a such step beyond that,  it takes you a moment to fathom that chance poetic cadence, laced betwixt sight and sound, before you.
And thus you sit, enthralled, in a state of warm wonderment, beyond words and explanation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(the above ”clip” may take a moment to load and be visible)