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
Lowry's Lions, Berwicks Ramparts, The house of the blue gables, The Contented Sole
9th of October - All of these poems were written on my trip to St Andrews Open day on wednesday, we stopped in Berwick upon Tweed, a place where the artist Lowry (whom worked majorly in charcoal) worked and lived.
We walked the walls and i jotted down these pieces, I haven't had time to touch up on them, so these are as they were when i wrote them walking about, so don't expect too much !
We saw a grand house, which was derelict the time Lowry was there, and is now scrubbed up so as to honour his love of the place. It is present in many of his paintings/sketches. Outside the door were these two stone lions.
Lowry's Lions
Charcoal outlines the coastline,
it glistens in the setting sunlight,
staring, gazing with solemn, crazed eyes
the lions stone gaze cries
for a long-distant loving master
whom was their caster,
into charcoal on paper
into time,
their saviour.
Ex
Standing on a section of the ancient stone walls that surround the majority of the city, protecting it from the sea (and in places the scots) at around dusk, I could see cormrants (black water birds) what seemed to be a iron smelting building, with a huge red brick chimney, and the sea.
Berwicks Ramparts
From the stone
you see the waters edge
the sand, the weed,
a light house, white, red
on light light blue
and a colossal red finger of fire, from iron,
points to the sky.
It splits the lines of houses
from the sea.
Blackbirds hover,
finding the last of lights catch,
calls mix with the waves, crashing, loud,
but subdued, cowed by the walls, quietened,
less threatening, protecting.
Ex
Around the corner from the done up derelict house of Lowry's day, was -ironically- a derelict town house, with lovely blue gables, sided with a nicely done up one, with quite a boring however neat front.
The house of the blue gables
From the broken windows the eyes stare,
watch as tourists totter past
in the suns last glare.
They just gaze quietly, sadly,
beside their grand neighbour
whom wields the history, power.
When they are seen as lower,
though gables blue
they no longer house
their happy owner,
though past lives on in the broken windows
eyeless stare.
Ex
After Berwick, we headed past Eyemouth, where we stopped at a harbour side pub/restaurant called 'The Contented Sole'.
The Cotented Sole
The pubs open door breathes
warmth and music
onto the balmy harbour,
and the people settle into the cosy leather seats,
fish battered, sigh heat as sliced,
and the beer fizzes,
as the sun sets the people fill their hungry bellies,
with the possessions of the sea,
white fish in bubbling batter.
Ex
We walked the walls and i jotted down these pieces, I haven't had time to touch up on them, so these are as they were when i wrote them walking about, so don't expect too much !
We saw a grand house, which was derelict the time Lowry was there, and is now scrubbed up so as to honour his love of the place. It is present in many of his paintings/sketches. Outside the door were these two stone lions.
Lowry's Lions
Charcoal outlines the coastline,
it glistens in the setting sunlight,
staring, gazing with solemn, crazed eyes
the lions stone gaze cries
for a long-distant loving master
whom was their caster,
into charcoal on paper
into time,
their saviour.
Ex
Standing on a section of the ancient stone walls that surround the majority of the city, protecting it from the sea (and in places the scots) at around dusk, I could see cormrants (black water birds) what seemed to be a iron smelting building, with a huge red brick chimney, and the sea.
Berwicks Ramparts
From the stone
you see the waters edge
the sand, the weed,
a light house, white, red
on light light blue
and a colossal red finger of fire, from iron,
points to the sky.
It splits the lines of houses
from the sea.
Blackbirds hover,
finding the last of lights catch,
calls mix with the waves, crashing, loud,
but subdued, cowed by the walls, quietened,
less threatening, protecting.
Ex
Around the corner from the done up derelict house of Lowry's day, was -ironically- a derelict town house, with lovely blue gables, sided with a nicely done up one, with quite a boring however neat front.
The house of the blue gables
From the broken windows the eyes stare,
watch as tourists totter past
in the suns last glare.
They just gaze quietly, sadly,
beside their grand neighbour
whom wields the history, power.
When they are seen as lower,
though gables blue
they no longer house
their happy owner,
though past lives on in the broken windows
eyeless stare.
Ex
After Berwick, we headed past Eyemouth, where we stopped at a harbour side pub/restaurant called 'The Contented Sole'.
The Cotented Sole
The pubs open door breathes
warmth and music
onto the balmy harbour,
and the people settle into the cosy leather seats,
fish battered, sigh heat as sliced,
and the beer fizzes,
as the sun sets the people fill their hungry bellies,
with the possessions of the sea,
white fish in bubbling batter.
Ex
7 Oct 2012
The Clock
The watched clock never changes.
If only that was true.
Time would be mine.
Instead I sit
as greedy fingers drag away my precious minutes.
A slave to the unperturbed face.
Continuously moving onwards
constantly tracing a circle,
the arms are dizzying as they spin,
the head aches
trying to comprehend the stakes
time entails.
Ex 7th/10
Weaving
You can say something about anything.
Words can
change, trick, decieve millions of minds,
around hatred, weave the appearence of love.
Dig, lift, crush, inflate.
Worlds greatest enemy
is the master of words.
Ex 7th/10
Fallen
Freedom. Will not you bring solace?
To a heart, yet unwarmed,
cold as ice.
Or bring quality to loneliness?
If never felt, never touched upon
what could be.. What dreams, can be..
Then there is quality in loneliness,
solace in freedom.
However, if you are falling from dreams,
so as your fabricated life, ends,
it breaks at the seams.
Ex 2nd 10th
13 Sept 2012
The friend
It was my friends birthday so i tried to write her a happy friendly poem. And this is what i got -_- Its a lot more lovey and sounds alot like the person has left me, gone to university, or died ..
In times to come
when i lie on pastures green,
will you lie with me?
Though unseen.
In times to come
when i look to the sky,
will you look with me?
at every ray and beam.
In times to come
you will be with me
walk with me,
lie with me,
see with me,
even though
you are not with me,
you are far away,
we will be as one.
Because, my friend,
who we are,
is what we become,
and you and i, my friend
we are so similar, that,
our minds, hearts,
are not yet done.
Ex 12/9
In times to come
when i lie on pastures green,
will you lie with me?
Though unseen.
In times to come
when i look to the sky,
will you look with me?
at every ray and beam.
In times to come
you will be with me
walk with me,
lie with me,
see with me,
even though
you are not with me,
you are far away,
we will be as one.
Because, my friend,
who we are,
is what we become,
and you and i, my friend
we are so similar, that,
our minds, hearts,
are not yet done.
Ex 12/9
Not what it was
Though this sounds quite depressing, it wasn't meant to, its meant to sound quite uplifting and applaud the need for love... but yeahhh it didnt turn out too positive.. Well the way you look at it will change the way you think of it, take 'I no longer want for this' for example, that sentance is meant to relate to the last cluster of sentances and say i don't want for love anymore, because i have it, NOT i no longer want for love, because i had it and frankly it wasnt great. but anyway, you choose how to interpret it.
There is my love
I see
my life, my death,
my days, my nights,
In them,
one person, whom stole my life.
unknowingly thieved me.
No strife,
no sadness,
no fear.
Like what i felt
before.
and no sights,
no scenes
no beauty.
Like what i'd ever seen
before.
I no longer want for this.
Take it from me
and i will live a half-life
which i had before,
but now it is not
what it was,
this can no longer be,
what it was.
Ex 10/9
There is my love
I see
my life, my death,
my days, my nights,
In them,
one person, whom stole my life.
unknowingly thieved me.
No strife,
no sadness,
no fear.
Like what i felt
before.
and no sights,
no scenes
no beauty.
Like what i'd ever seen
before.
I no longer want for this.
Take it from me
and i will live a half-life
which i had before,
but now it is not
what it was,
this can no longer be,
what it was.
Ex 10/9
Tenacious
Tenacious, asked one of my friends for a random word, they said tenacious (just to be awkward im sure) et voila.
Bond, a glue, an adhesive, binding glue,
Joins you and I,
Me and you,
Together something there,
Which coincides with air,
Forces us together,
Tenacious, firm a hold
Forever living, forever told.
Ex 13/9
10 Sept 2012
The Folley
Standing, desolate
the building lies,
sleeping, undisturbed
under the everchanging skies.
The people who have been past,
their life, their being dies,
but the chapel, remembers them,
quiet, listening,
still it stands.
Visitors gaze, question
it's existance
each of its days, and
how it achieved
this state, disrepair,
silence,
but beautiful and ever listening,
keeping and making,
steeping and shrouding,
secrets, the secrets
of their past,
its present,
the future.
It will nurture
and keep alive.
Ex 10/8th
the building lies,
sleeping, undisturbed
under the everchanging skies.
The people who have been past,
their life, their being dies,
but the chapel, remembers them,
quiet, listening,
still it stands.
Visitors gaze, question
it's existance
each of its days, and
how it achieved
this state, disrepair,
silence,
but beautiful and ever listening,
keeping and making,
steeping and shrouding,
secrets, the secrets
of their past,
its present,
the future.
It will nurture
and keep alive.
Ex 10/8th
26 Aug 2012
The folk song
Just come back from stewarding a couple of days at a folk week, I love the music so much, and the atmosphere is so strange and lively.
The folk song
I can not sing like you.
Can not play like you,
but let me listen,
because when I do,
I can hear a thousand voices,
singing to me alone,
I hear emotion,
I hear of ancient love,
I hear of ancient sadness,
It teaches me something about everything,
and everyone.
Ex 24/8
Listen to 'lemon tree' by peter, paul and mary
The folk song
I can not sing like you.
Can not play like you,
but let me listen,
because when I do,
I can hear a thousand voices,
singing to me alone,
I hear emotion,
I hear of ancient love,
I hear of ancient sadness,
It teaches me something about everything,
and everyone.
Ex 24/8
Listen to 'lemon tree' by peter, paul and mary
Pensive
I haven't posted in this blog for a very long time, so i'm coming back !
Pensive
Why don't you follow us? Keep the right side of that door?
Because, law, i still abide by it.
Why can't you move on? Forget that which happened before?
Because, knowledge, I still know it.
Why can't you be happy? Why don't you smile more?
Because, happiness, i overthought it.
Pegs, each one a smile,
hang me out to dry,
permenant, unmoveable.
The line of thought.
I hang.
17/6
Pensive
Why don't you follow us? Keep the right side of that door?
Because, law, i still abide by it.
Why can't you move on? Forget that which happened before?
Because, knowledge, I still know it.
Why can't you be happy? Why don't you smile more?
Because, happiness, i overthought it.
Pegs, each one a smile,
hang me out to dry,
permenant, unmoveable.
The line of thought.
I hang.
17/6
'Come down'
Step down
from your high horse,
change that frown
set your features to a new course.
It wouldn't hurt to smile
at me
it wouldn't be hard to look
at me.
But you just like everyone to think
you are the one who came out worse.
16/6
from your high horse,
change that frown
set your features to a new course.
It wouldn't hurt to smile
at me
it wouldn't be hard to look
at me.
But you just like everyone to think
you are the one who came out worse.
16/6
16 Oct 2011
whispered words
They hang between us in the air
but neither of us gave them life.
Theres a red viel for us to share
but in the way is a wall, of fear, of strife.
We have to trust we feel the same,
that when the words come alive,
we'll both breathe into them, in no feign.
and to keep them living, we must promise to strive.
You could always turn and walk away,
theres always a risk, our love will turn grey,
if i say the words, neither of us can say,
Then, i'll be too afraid to beg you to stay.
Ex
-EJ
but neither of us gave them life.
Theres a red viel for us to share
but in the way is a wall, of fear, of strife.
We have to trust we feel the same,
that when the words come alive,
we'll both breathe into them, in no feign.
and to keep them living, we must promise to strive.
You could always turn and walk away,
theres always a risk, our love will turn grey,
if i say the words, neither of us can say,
Then, i'll be too afraid to beg you to stay.
Ex
-EJ
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