I'm doing my coursework final piece in A2 art at the moment, and i've studied Cy Twombly to get to this point, his pieces include a certain amount of classical referencing, like the metaphysical poets and loads of other poets, writers and artists throughout history.
Anyway ! This piece is called Aphrodite (Greek goddess of Love)
The little notes at the end will explain references.
Aphrodite
She says you will be mine,
my Helen, my adored.
I will take you
and
begin the battle
with the stone lion brothers whom roared,
the Flames will soar,
and so it will end
In Lead hate.
Aphrodite, the promise as her bait,
to follow the thread of Fate
as even She should
with Anchises, father of the beginner of the Empire, Trojan warrior, he who made Her mortal,
Aphrodite's bane,
Her Fate,
Her Love,
Her Life.
Ex 5th/2nd
line 2 Aphrodite was one of the three goddesses involved in the judgement of Paris, she won the golden apple.
line 5 the battle of Troy
line 6 the two brothers, Agamemnon and Menelaus (Helen's husband) Agamemnon inherited the family palace at Mycenae, over whose door is the carving of two lions. (the lion gate)
line 7 Troy was burnt when it was captured by the Greeks.
line 2-4 Aphrodite is fated (by her father Zeus) to love a mortal
line 4 Anchises is all of the things (the Empire being that of Rome)
5 Feb 2013
24 Jan 2013
On the first meeting
On the first meeting
I don't believe we have met
as we are right now.
I debate that a person is set
to be who they are and never change.
However, to run through life, never changing,
would mean never understanding nor regarding.
So we must change, and not be set,
then we are not who we were, but I am who I am this very day,
never to be the same way, so never to be met by you,
as you will have changed.
So every meeting is a new meeting, as we are two new people,
so at this second greeting,
you are not who you were, nor the you I knew as you,
and i am not who i was, nor the me that you knew as me.
Ex 24th/1st/2013
I don't believe we have met
as we are right now.
I debate that a person is set
to be who they are and never change.
However, to run through life, never changing,
would mean never understanding nor regarding.
So we must change, and not be set,
then we are not who we were, but I am who I am this very day,
never to be the same way, so never to be met by you,
as you will have changed.
So every meeting is a new meeting, as we are two new people,
so at this second greeting,
you are not who you were, nor the you I knew as you,
and i am not who i was, nor the me that you knew as me.
Ex 24th/1st/2013
The Meteor
Missed a meteor at 5am this morning ! Wish i could've seen it, but heres a link for a little video of it anyway..
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/space/9559670/Spectacular-meteor-shower-over-Britain.html
The Meteor
Fire ate the darkness spewing up sparkles,
shards of light, leaving a destructive trail,
adorning the night.
It was only trying to get somewhere.
Pulled apart by shouting, emotional forces
it was only trying to live.
They broke him apart,
and threw him away,
to yet another world, he sped through the darkness, offering,
light and warmth,
unseen by many,
starting his new life,
leaving sparkle, shards of stars
throughout the night.
Speaking of mystifying, unknown worlds,
of darkness lighter than light,
fire colder than ice
and planets, never seen twice.
Ex 4th/1st/2013
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/space/9559670/Spectacular-meteor-shower-over-Britain.html
The Meteor
Fire ate the darkness spewing up sparkles,
shards of light, leaving a destructive trail,
adorning the night.
It was only trying to get somewhere.
Pulled apart by shouting, emotional forces
it was only trying to live.
They broke him apart,
and threw him away,
to yet another world, he sped through the darkness, offering,
light and warmth,
unseen by many,
starting his new life,
leaving sparkle, shards of stars
throughout the night.
Speaking of mystifying, unknown worlds,
of darkness lighter than light,
fire colder than ice
and planets, never seen twice.
Ex 4th/1st/2013
A Train Journey
A train journey
There are people who prefer music
to the broken fleeting conversations of others,
or the hum of the train.
Some sit, read, or sleep.
Sometimes people are fond of eating, or a drink.
As i sit and contemplate bordeum from the basis of being bored,
you shift your leg, reposition your torso,
uncomfortable in your regimented blue chair.
Her music displeases her and she quickly changes the track,
as another man stands,
takes advantage of the stop at a level crossing to take a walk down the aisle,
avoiding any awkward eye contact.
As we begin to move again,
you've been caught on your feet
and they run from you,
as you stumble to your seat.
The two in front of me,
a content married couple,
rest their hands beside each others and pass a phrase to one another,
commenting on the sandwiches she made,
or the journey so far.
Its turned black outside and the overheard lights illuminate everyones years.
The conversation dims even more as it reaches the ears quicker now,
on the inward turned contemplation of each passenger.
Ex 11 Dec 12
There are people who prefer music
to the broken fleeting conversations of others,
or the hum of the train.
Some sit, read, or sleep.
Sometimes people are fond of eating, or a drink.
As i sit and contemplate bordeum from the basis of being bored,
you shift your leg, reposition your torso,
uncomfortable in your regimented blue chair.
Her music displeases her and she quickly changes the track,
as another man stands,
takes advantage of the stop at a level crossing to take a walk down the aisle,
avoiding any awkward eye contact.
As we begin to move again,
you've been caught on your feet
and they run from you,
as you stumble to your seat.
The two in front of me,
a content married couple,
rest their hands beside each others and pass a phrase to one another,
commenting on the sandwiches she made,
or the journey so far.
Its turned black outside and the overheard lights illuminate everyones years.
The conversation dims even more as it reaches the ears quicker now,
on the inward turned contemplation of each passenger.
Ex 11 Dec 12
Behind your eyes, Whispers of whisperings
Just in between lectures on a london trip with school, casually writing poems about the people i saw.
Behind your eyes
What do you see, mon ami?
From misted, glistening eyes,
as you sit and contemplate the skies?
I will never know as you know or knew.
Or see exactly as you do.
Thoughts you covet,
ones you treasure or
let slip aimlessly by
like clouds in your own personal sky.
I will never know,
and with you alone they will preside.
Ex 30 Nov 12
Whispers of whisperings
Nothing is there.
Nobody stands, sits, walks or runs,
in that space,
on that stair.
It is simple air.
Which has a million ghosts
for each of the corners,
the crevases,
the cubbyholes,
and the cupboards,
their lies a million misted dreamings,
thoughts, happenings, stories of people.
Dreams no longer thought,
hands no longer dealt
nor feelings no longer felt.
Just whispers of whisperings.
Behind your eyes
What do you see, mon ami?
From misted, glistening eyes,
as you sit and contemplate the skies?
I will never know as you know or knew.
Or see exactly as you do.
Thoughts you covet,
ones you treasure or
let slip aimlessly by
like clouds in your own personal sky.
I will never know,
and with you alone they will preside.
Ex 30 Nov 12
Whispers of whisperings
Nothing is there.
Nobody stands, sits, walks or runs,
in that space,
on that stair.
It is simple air.
Which has a million ghosts
for each of the corners,
the crevases,
the cubbyholes,
and the cupboards,
their lies a million misted dreamings,
thoughts, happenings, stories of people.
Dreams no longer thought,
hands no longer dealt
nor feelings no longer felt.
Just whispers of whisperings.
Paradise
Paradise.
I want you to take me away
from this place
somewhere where
theres not so much a pace
to keep up with
to contend with
to compete with.
To be slain by.
I want to be away
from this war cry
to not have to try to strive.
I want to be more alive.
Simply to rest for a while,
I want you to take me to this place.
Ex 16/11
I want you to take me away
from this place
somewhere where
theres not so much a pace
to keep up with
to contend with
to compete with.
To be slain by.
I want to be away
from this war cry
to not have to try to strive.
I want to be more alive.
Simply to rest for a while,
I want you to take me to this place.
Ex 16/11
Naievety, Numb and Home
All from the 21st of October
The worst word in the english language, and the worst insult ever :
Naievety
I know i must live longer,
kick back more years to gain your respect,
but though my years are nothing,
compared to yours,
at least acknowledge
that they are different.
That i do Know things.
That in some respects,
I will Know more than you.
At least acknowledge, I live.
Numb
I want to replicate every
feeling and
emotion
on paper,
to describe,
explain
show others.
But what if i feel
nothing?
how may i speak
when there are no
words,
nor combinations,
nor formulae,
for this.
My speechlessness,
will have to be my
explanation.
Home
Soft bobbled, brown carpet,
warm beneath, wrinkled, bare skin.
Wriggle, scrunch ot between the toes.
Padding across the room
the beam of sun captures you.
Spread an image across the carpet.
Hair, glowing dimly,
and skin, laced with shadows
in each of its perfect imperfections.
Chairs, comfortable,
windows, protective,
the space inbetween the walls, special
Home.
Ex
The worst word in the english language, and the worst insult ever :
Naievety
I know i must live longer,
kick back more years to gain your respect,
but though my years are nothing,
compared to yours,
at least acknowledge
that they are different.
That i do Know things.
That in some respects,
I will Know more than you.
At least acknowledge, I live.
Numb
I want to replicate every
feeling and
emotion
on paper,
to describe,
explain
show others.
But what if i feel
nothing?
how may i speak
when there are no
words,
nor combinations,
nor formulae,
for this.
My speechlessness,
will have to be my
explanation.
Home
Soft bobbled, brown carpet,
warm beneath, wrinkled, bare skin.
Wriggle, scrunch ot between the toes.
Padding across the room
the beam of sun captures you.
Spread an image across the carpet.
Hair, glowing dimly,
and skin, laced with shadows
in each of its perfect imperfections.
Chairs, comfortable,
windows, protective,
the space inbetween the walls, special
Home.
Ex
15 Oct 2012
The Journey
This one is a bit more like my usual complicated, crazy, hard to understand (especially for me) stuff. Its just from watching the outside whizz past in the car.
The Journey
The broken becomes a continuous stream,
leaves, twigs, branches
the years debris
merges into one
constant stream.
Life.
The further things are constant
the horizon is still
through the glass,
teardrops of water
collect on the speeding
windows lip.
The horizon stays constant,
still, the dizzying,
exciting, breathtalingly fast, pass,
leaves, twigs, branches
as debris of my life,
yet the straight,
safe, sturdy.
Stands, shifts, only slightly,
with me.
Let it pass.
Ex
The Journey
The broken becomes a continuous stream,
leaves, twigs, branches
the years debris
merges into one
constant stream.
Life.
The further things are constant
the horizon is still
through the glass,
teardrops of water
collect on the speeding
windows lip.
The horizon stays constant,
still, the dizzying,
exciting, breathtalingly fast, pass,
leaves, twigs, branches
as debris of my life,
yet the straight,
safe, sturdy.
Stands, shifts, only slightly,
with me.
Let it pass.
Ex
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