Showing posts with label Poetry and Literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry and Literature. Show all posts
0 com

استدراك - أحمد مطر

تَخَلًّفتُ عَنِّي.
كثيراً كثيراً تخلّفتُ عَنّي.
تَناهي التّباعُدُ بَيني وَبَيْني
إلي حَدِّ أنيّ
أُضِيءُ طريقي لِشَمسِ اليَقينِ
بِعَتْمةِ ظَنّي!
وأُطعِمُ نارَ الحقيقةِ
ماءَ التَّمنّي!

تَخلّفْتُ عَنّي
لأَنّي تَوقّفتُ أَبني
كِياني وَكَوْني
علي كائِنٍ لَمْ يَكُنِّي!

وَإذ لاحَ أَنّي
بَنَيتُ السِّنينَ علي هَدْمِ سِنّي
تَلَفَّتُ كي أَطلُبَ العُذْرَ مِنّي
فَما لاحَ مِنّي خَيالٌ لِعَيْني!

******

سَفَعْتُ وُجوهَ الصُّخورِ
بنارِ المعاني
فَلَمْ تُعْنَ يوماً بما كُنتُ أَعْني!
وألقَيْتُ بَذْرَ التّعاطُفِ
فوقَ الهَوانِ

فَلَمْ أَجْنِ إلاّ ثِمارَ التَّجني!
وأَحنيتُ عُمْري
لِتَعديلِ سَمْتِ الغَواني
فَلَمْ أَلقَ مِنهُنَّ غَيْرَ التَّثنّي!

أَمِنْ أَجْلِ هذي الغَياهِبِ
أَحرقتُ فَنّي؟
أَمِنْ أَجْلِ هذي الخَرائِبِ
هَدَّمتُ رُكني؟

******

أَمِنْ أَجْلِ هذي الدَّوابِ
التي تَحتفي بالعَذابِ
وتبكي بُكاءَ الثّكالي لموت الذِّئابِ
غَمَسْتُ بدمعِ المواساةِ لَحني؟!
إلهي أَعِنّي.

أَعِدْني إليَّ.. لَعَلَّ التّسامي
غَداةَ التئامي
سَيغفِرُ للرُّوحِ جُرْحَ التَّدَنّي.
أَعِدْني..
لَعَلّي بنَشْري أُكفِّرُ عن كُفْرِ دَفني.
وأَلقي بذاتي
بقايا حياتي

فأدنو إلي نَسمَةٍ لم أَذُقْها
وأحنو علي بَسْمةٍ لم تَذُقْني
وَأُغْني دَمي وَحْدَهُ بالتَّغنّي.
سَأُغْني دَمي وَحْدَهُ بالتَّغنّي.

1 com

The Day I Fell For Zusak

I just found myself in Markus Zusak. No kidding.
Zusak got to me with words. He speaks almost everything I want to write, or not write. He speaks silence that I wanted to utter so long ago. He knows the exact words to tear at my heart, to touch my depth.

The Book Thief got to me more than any other book I ever read did. It actually made me read more and appreciate books and words more. It also made me always remember that silence is a great companion when words are devoid of meaning.


I still haven't finished I am The Messenger. I'm loving it so far. Zusak always knows how to relate the protagonist to books and reading. He must connect the two together, perhaps because he sees that a person in a novel must have something for novels. Maybe.

I love you, Zusak!


“Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.”
The Book Thief

“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.”
The Book Thief

“Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.”

“Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.”
The Book Thief

“Even death has a heart.”
The Book Thief

“I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.”
The Book Thief

“I think she ate a salad and some soup.
And loneliness.
She ate that, too. ”
I am the Messenger

“Believe it or not--it takes a lot of love to hate you like this.”
I am the Messenger

“It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.”
I am the Messenger

“My arms are killing me.
I didn't know words could be so heavy.”
I am the Messenger

“No, I'm not a saint, Sophie. I'm just another stupid human.”
I am the Messenger

“She soon says, "You're my best friend, Ed."
You can kill a man with those words.
No gun.
No bullets.
Just words and a girl.”
I am the Messenger

“Only in today's sick society can a man be persecuted for reading too many books.”
I am the Messenger

“I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.”
I am the Messenger





0 com

talisman-Suheir Hammad


it is written
the act of writing is
holy words are
sacred and your breath
brings out the
god in them
i write these words
quickly repeat them
softly to myself
this talisman for you
fold this prayer
around your neck fortify
your back with these
whispers
may you walk ever
loved and in love
know the sun
for warmth the moon
for direction
may these words always
remind you your breath
is sacred words
bring out the god
in you

2 com

Quotes

-"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." — Theodore Roosevelt


-‎"He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others—the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad." —"Everything is illuminated" (novel).

0 com

Random Facts and Info

  1. Google Is Richer Than the 28 Poorest Countries Combined
  2. "The Manifesto of the Communist Party" Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels was one of the books that screwed up the world for having inspired the most brutal regimes in human history.
  3. "Wiki" in Wikipedia is the Hawaiian word for "fast"
  4. In the early days of film making, people who worked on the sets were called movies. The films were called motion pictures.
  5. Why is there water everywhere but not much to drink?
  6. 13% of people are left-handed, up from 11% a few decades ago. The story that right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people is a myth.
  7. Ernest Vincent Wright’s 1939 novel Gadsby has 50,110 words, none of which contains the letter e.
  8. When anaesthetic was used for the first time in childbirth in 1847, the mother was so amazed and relieved at how painless the birth was that she named her child Anaesthesia.
  9. The famous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, in which seven Chicago gangsters were gunned down on February 14, 1929, was one of the bloodiest in mob history
  10. In 1859 a solar storm hit the earth (the largest in recorded history). It was caused by massive sunspots and solar flares. It was so intense that auroras were seen around the earth (even in the caribbean) and the ones over the Rocky Mountains were so bright that gold miners thought it was morning. It knocked out the telegraph systems of Europe and North America.
2 com

قصيدة من الطفولة



أنا مش هتكلّم كتير هنا ، هحكي بس قصة الأنشودة ، أو القصيدة دي
القصيدة دي من ذكريات طفولتي التي مش هنساها ، الذكرى الحلوة ، بالرغم من إن القصيدة مؤلمة و حزينة ، لكن لا زالت بتعبّر عن حالنا الحالي. ببساطة شديدة القصة اللي عمري ما هنساها إبتدت في عربيّتنا هناك لما كنت لسه في الإمارات ، كنت تقريباً لسه في أولى إبتدائي و مكنتش فاهمة حاجة في الدنياالمعقدة -الخالية من البراءة يعني - إلا إن في ناس في فلسطين بتتقتّل و العالم ساكن و مبيتكلمش من حرب 48 و من قبل كده بكتير. بابا سمعنا القصيدة في سيارتنا ...أنا فاكرة الشريط كان لونه إيه و فاكرة إحساسي ساعتها قوي قوي قوي زي ما يكون حلم بيتردد كل ليلة في نومي. جسمي قشعر ، على الرغم من إنّي دلوقتي بفكّر إزاي بابا كان بيسمّعنا حاجات كثيبة كده ، بس لما كبرت فهمت إنّي فعلاّ كنت محتاجة أسمعها ، عشان لو أنا مش عايشة في وسطهم و حاسّة بيهم ، لازم أحس بيهم في أي حاجة و أكبر على كده عشان أتعود و لما تقوم الثورة العربية الكبرى أبقى مبسوطة بجد. الحمد لله إن لسه الناس فيها أمل أصلاً تغير!
دقِّة الأنشودة مش على قد كدا بس دا اللي لقيته للأسف ، لو حد لقى دقة أفضل أبقى شاكرة والله.

آخر حاجة ، أنا عايزة بس أكتب مقطعين بحبهم في القصيدة و شايفة إنهم معبّرين قوي في الزمن دا. ممكن لو مش هتسمعو القصيدة كلها تقرأوا الكام بيت دول

الحـــــــــــــرُ يعـــــــرف ما تريــــد المحكمــــــــة
وقُضاتـــــــــه سلفـــــــــاً قــــــــد ارتشفــوا دمه
لا يرتجي دفعاً لبهتان رمـــــــــاه به الطغـــــــــاة
المجرمون الجالسون على كراسي القضـــــــــاة
حكموا بما شاءوا وسيق أبوك في أغلالـــــــــــه

دا واحد...و الثاني

كذبوا وقالوا عـــن بطولتــــــــــه خيانــــــــــــــــة
وأمامنا التقريـــــــــر ينطــــــــــــق بالإدانــــــــــة
هذا الذي قالوه عنه غداً يردد عـن ســــــــــــواه
ما دمت تبحث عن أبِيٍّ في البلاد ولا تــــــــــراه


اسم القصيدة "نم يا صغيري" و لينك القصيدة كاملة هنا
6 com

Art and Artists are two different things!

"This is a post from deep within"

I often wonder about the conclusion or the consequence I will get from writing all those thoughts down on my blogs. I often confuse writing my own thoughts with writing thoughts that would address humanity in a way that is unforgettable, with feelings that are palpable and words that are thinkable. I never got to experience the importance of my writings two years from today; every word was a mere consolation to my own struggles, or shall I say, simple experiences.
I think the first thing that tugs every artist into that precise kind of art is the self-struggle they are put through along the phases of their lives. There is always a need to run away from everything, to find shelter and a beautiful escape into something - and then the escape becomes the addiction, the habit, the talent. Everything then takes a path that we all know: casual pieces (either in music, writing, painting or drawing..etc) that are shared only on a personal level. And then things go step by step until you find yourself unable to be extremely happy UNLESS you're doing your own special art. It's a cure, but only if you know perfectly well how to take advantage of that.
Then you get to a point where you suffer with your incapability to create -- another phase of life probably interferes with your artistic thoughts, and then you either become numb, or you become so miserably exhausted from all the attempts that are left on your desktop or your folder as drafts. Too many draft. Just too many that you sense failure dragging you downwards, though inwardly, you're hysterically addicted. Still are.
This is the point I need to talk about the most in this article; the point where you start questioning your own talent and whether or not it's doing people any good.
Does your music inspire people to write more purposeful lyrics to be sung?
Do your portraits speak about something beautiful God has created, for people to ponder, deeply?
Do your writings hold ideas that can change the world in a way, or lessons and stories that let people know they are never alone? That we're all in this together and all we need is to understand that our thoughts are just about the same in different minds?
Let's face it, many of us never had these purposes when we started loving that artistic difference within us. Perhaps none of us now thinks they can truly, thoroughly change the world with some mere artistic piece. But you know, you can only achieve what you really believe in. Or say, what you really fight for before death's visit, let's just not be idealistic here.
For now, please remember that your art isn't yours, or let's say it's not yours alone. Your art is for the whole world, even if you think it's awful. The way we have different tastes is the reason why artists are still creating, because some people will loathe them, other people will fall in love.
Please right your purposes if they're wrong, or create them if you only use your art for your own consolation. Please put in mind that your art is an important factor in the lives of others. Compose lovingly. Portray inspiringly. Write wholeheartedly.
On a final note, never forget that you're a great source of inspiration to everyone, even if you don't get to see that. Here is me telling you.

Inspire on!


Image Source

1 com

The Book Thief [Full Review]




Something you should know

This novel is narrated by Death -Literally-

The book thief, as the back cover says, is a story of Liesel, a girl whose job is to steal books, amid war, street bombing and Jews. About too many Jews.
What caught my attention was first a friend, then the title of the book, and then a comment on Goodreads.

Plot:
It's about addicting books, about addicting words, thinking they're our only savior. Sometimes they actually are, but other times they're a curse.
I could really relate to this novel and to many of the girl's thoughts because I always seem to be struggling with words that I once wrote this quote to myself: "Everything is so much easier in words than how it really seems alive".
To not spoil anything, bookworms and writers would really understand this novel perfectly well as it is written and weep with it along each chapter and/or part.
What I liked best while reading was the tragedy and pain mixed with hilariousness and comedy, perhaps black comedy, but it made me-literally-laugh out loud. Yet at the very end I had to cry, and if you know me pretty well..I don't really cry in movies and barely in books.
The end was a shock to me, it taught me too many things that we keep forgetting as life keeps sucking the breath out of us each and every single day. I'll mention some down here.

The language:
I learned some German words! Mostly some cussing, but I honestly felt like I want to learn German, even for a flick of a second.
The overall language wasn't that hard, it was very neatly chosen and, as usual, I've got a dozen new words to learn.

The Symbolism:
The comment on Goodreads said this: "heavy-handed on the symbolism."
I knew once I read this sentence that this book is for people like me. I do agree at first it was not that easy to understand what this symbolic phrase meant, but as I went by, phrases seemed to be working just fine in my head and well interpreted. If they tell you "Don't judge a book by its cover", I'd say, in this novel, don't judge it by the first few chapters, because by the time you understood the plot very well, it won't be hard to get the hidden meanings within the phrases.

The Narrator:
At first you won't get how this is going, but this novel really is narrated by the life-taker aka Death; which makes it way more interesting than any other novel. He seemed to be a friend or a lover first, and then an enemy, or just the fate everyone will one day meet. Death, in this novel, is a great lesson.

Lessons:
  • If you're certain that what you'll do isn't wrong, do it here, do it now, because tomorrow may just be a little too late.
  • When there is pain, there is also a hidden consolation, or a warm hug out there.
  • Friendship, it's way more than how you define it..
  • Sometimes words will fail you, but there will always be a chance to right the wrong.
  • You'll certainly get mad at the wrong people sometime.
  • Fate is a beautiful thing to understand.
Quotes:


"But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgement of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?"

"A book thief requires many things.
Stealth. Nerve. Speed.
More important than any of those things, however, was one final requirement.
Luck"

"Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.
That was the business of hiding a Jew"

"There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking and there are soft, coal-coloured clouds, beating like black hearts.
And then.
There is death.
Making his way through all of it.
On the surface: unflappable, unwavering.
Below: unnerved, untied and undone."

"Certainly, war meant dying, but it always shifted the ground beneath a person's feet when it was someone who had once lived and breathed in close proximity."

"For some reason, dying men always ask questions they know the answer to. Perhaps it's so they can die being right."

"Tell me something. Because I don't understand . . . Tell me, how she can sit there ready to die while I still want to live? Why do I want to live? I shouldn't want to, but I do."

"I see their ugliness and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing that I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die."

"The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Fuhrer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better."


On a final note:
I would certainly read this novel again, and entitle it as one of my favorite reads.



2 com

The pleasure of the drunk

"Write drunk; edit sober" -Ernest Hemingway.

Inspiration is my warrior of light!
I've never been so inspired. It feels like I'm colored with all the colors that exist in our world and in different worlds. Like I'm walking through every thought I once abandoned and put on the shelf like an old book. Inspiration is like the hand that wipes the dust off abandoned books and cleans the shelf. The hand that takes yours and leads you to a path where everything is possible, where imagination is the air you breathe and words are the water you drink. Where ideas are palpable and every little thing triggers you to write.
It makes you walk down the street looking at everything just differently, not how your eyes perceive them on daily basis. You write poems on smiles, compose songs on laughs, draw the world on hope, and paint the sky on hand touches. It makes you so vulnerable to falling in love, in love with just anything and everything; the simplest things you would've never thought of. Moreover, it is your light to appreciate even the ugliest things, for their entity could one day be an inspiration to you, or any drunk-on-inspiration artist.
And then, you ponder. You realize that a look is a constellation, a tree is a haiku piece, sunset is love song, winter is Neruda and summer is Shakur. You get that you, mind, body, soul and heart are the element of what your imagination perceives. And your muse is your addiction.
And I'm addicted. I'm addicted to that imagination that makes me so weak before the pages of my notebook and the spaces on my blog. I'm addicted to words, to the laughs, to smiles, the sky, the sundown and sunrise, to strangers and friends, to colors and seasons, to darkness and light. I just can't get enough.
And finally that I'm drunk, I don't want to be sober ever again. It's a pleasure to be addicted.























P.S Neruda is Pablo Neruda, and Shakur is Tupac Shakur. Both poets of passion.
0 com

A year and a day difference

I wanted to do this yesterday but I think I was too lazy.
A year ago I posted a Kyrielle piece, exactly on the 3rd of January 2010. The poem was about Egypt, I was feeling patriotic and I wanted to write something that would make me feel different about my poetry, satisfied that I'm not just expressing, I'm writing my country.

A Kyrielle: is a French form written in quatrains (a stanza consisting of 4 lines), and each quatrain contains a repeating line or phrase as a refrain. Each line within the poem consists of eight syllables. Rhyme scheme is aabB ccbB ddbB

Rise [Kyrielle]

'Tween two thoughts in my mind lie you
A tranquil aura to pursue
A spring-deprived look in your eyes
Home, tomorrow the sun will rise

Charcoal tears make life incomplete
A dreamer's smile is bittersweet
Despair is destined to demise
Home, tomorrow the sun will rise

Ink shan't hold deterioration
Spring will be your one salvation
Tho' hope, away, a thousand skies
Home, tomorrow the sun will rise



2010 ended with people's wrath growing and growing after Khaled Saeed's terrible death by torture and the forgery of elections. And then 2011 came and everything was so fast, the church explosions, the Tunisia uprising, and Egypt was silent. People created an online revolt just to vent and cry in silence. But then I wrote another poetic form called Pleiades, poem entitled "Wrath", the date was the 4th of January 2011. Both poems were written at the same minute but not hour (:18)

A Pleiades: Only one word is allowed in the title followed by a single seven-line stanza, six syllables each. The first word in each line begins with the same letter as the title.

Wrath [Pleiades]

Wrapped in fury, thoughts burn-
Wringing the mind. Comfort..
Without ease, hunger to
Winter's wind. Breathe out your
Written revolution:
Words stained with their clean blood.
Wonder; a still revolt.


Finally, I am posting this just to show you my amazement, I don't write many poetic forms, and it happens that both were written in a specific form, about Egypt, and just when it was time for wrath and depression, Allah sent glory.
0 com

6:59 AM

I know I usually don't post these kinda poems, but I love the simplicity in this poem


6:59 AM - Riley Dog


I’ve been told
that people in the army
do more by 7:00 am
than I do
in an entire day

but if I wake
at 6:59 am
and turn to you
to trace the outline of your lips
with mine
I will have done enough
and killed no one
in the process.

0 com

Literary Quotes

"An artist cannot translate the passionate intensity of life without working in passion. Scholar’s scholar, critic's critic, but the artist burns and beats and blows and jumps and rushes. It's all a matter of virtue, i.e virtuosity"-Jack Kerouac.


"But I'll add, that there is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas." -"The Idiot" Dosteovesky.
(Stolen from Noor's review :D )


"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." -Sylvia Plath


3 com

To Kill a Mockingbird [Full Review]

"Shoot the bluejays of you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird"

The plot:
I have to say I was kind of disappointed at the plot and the narration of this novel. If you intend to read this novel, you have to be very patient because at least the first half of the novel is quiet boring and pointless-at least to me. The chapters are very slow-paced and you need to take out what you can in order to finish them and get to the good parts.

The language: I kind of thought it was hard to read, and for a person who has much admiration for literature and language like myself, the language was poor, not of the narrator's, but of the era itself; I didn't really mind it as much as I thought it was hard and sometimes not understandable.

Characters: Mostly, I loved the father, I really admired his patience and the way he was trying to raise his kids and make it up to them for having lost their mother at a young age. I admired his calmness and the way he handled frenzied situations. His way of analyzing and defending at the court, knowing that it's a lose-lose case. Away from the two main characters, who are the girl and her brother, I think the father is the most important and beautiful role in the novel.

I don't really have much to add to this novel, I didn't think I would be so eager to finish it only to know what's gonna happen not because I was utterly enjoying it; overall, I think I can give it 2.5/5, but I still gotta say I enjoyed how the author, Lee, put out the ugliness of racism in the 30s. It's a good-but-not-great novel.

P.S I remembered "Broken April" and "Chronicle in Stone", both for Ismail Kadare while reading this and I couldn't help but compare, I probably haven't read several poetic novels for one author as for Kadare.
"Chronicle in Stone" was also narrated from the heart of a young boy, but the humor was felt more than this novel.
"Broken April" also had to do with the killing of the innocent only because they committed the sin of living in this world.

Lastly,
Quotes to remember:

"I don't know, but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it ــــ seems that only children weep. Good night."

"You got it backwards, Dill. Clowns are sad, it's folks that laugh at them."

"The most ridiculous example I can think of is that the people who run public education promote the stupid and idle along with the industrious - because all men are created equal, educators will gravely tell you, the children left behind suffer terrible feelings of inferiority.We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would have us believe-some people are smarter than others, some people have more opportunity because they're born with it, some men make more money than others, some ladies make better cakes than others-some people are born gifted beyond the normal scope of most men."

"In the name of God, do your duty (out loud). In the name of God, believe him (to himself)."


P.S Never miss out contemplating chapter 20, I'd say it's probably the best chapter in the whole novel (:


2 com

Do not stand at my grave and weep

This is one of the poems that resemble the beauty in meaningful simplicity. I just love it.

By Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
0 com

Inscription on a Tomb- Jorge Borges

"Let not the rash marble risk
garrulous breaches of oblivion's omnipotence,
in many words recalling
name, renown, events, birthplace.
All those glass jewels are best left in the dark.
Let not the marble say what men do not.
The essentials of the dead man's life--
the trembling hope,
the implacable miracle of pain, the wonder of sensual delight--
will abide forever.
Blindly the uncertain soul asks to continue
when it is the lives of others that will make that happen,
as you yourself are the mirror and image
of those who did not live as long as you
and others will be (and are) your immortality on earth."

— Jorge Luis Borges
0 com

You Who Never Arrived-Rainer Maria Rilke

I love this poem..

[ You Who Never Arrived ]


You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.


You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...
2 com

Broken April (Full Review)

(Yes yes Finally a book review hehe)

The plot: I can't really argue on this much, because everyone who read the novel agreed that the story itself is disturbing and dark, yet strangely captivating to the reader.
Briefly, the human life in this novel is naught, more than naught, though the idea of being killed because you killed would seem fair. Vengeance, the bessa*, the Kanun**..all these are things Kadare knew pretty well how to use. The idea of vengeance itself wasn't new to me, nor to anyone I guess, but the extinction of families was!

Gjorg: The protagonist: I guess the author likes to give life to loads of mysteriousness in his protagonists; the calmness, the serenity, yet the clarity of his case to be so. However, I wasn't drawn by his personality like the protagonists of other novels for Kadare.
The characters of this novel seriously confused me! Diana, Bessian. Ali Binak..all of them had a fateful touch of mysteriousness.

Language and Metaphors:The language was pretty simple and clear, I didn't have much difficulty, I remember I had more difficulty reading Chronicle in Stone than this one. No points raised on this.
The metaphors are undoubtedly the thing I enjoyed the most in this novel. I enjoyed every description, even harsh ones, he put beauty in ugly things very poetically.
I loved the description of April breaking and relinquishing the short life of Gjorg, the description of the old woman talking, how he described the dirt coming from her mouth, it was ugly yet beautiful.

Quotes:
Not much to mention here, a crazy novel would not really withstand wisdom, but here are some descriptions that I found lovely to pen:

"We're entering the shadow-land. The place where the laws of death prevail over the laws of life"

"That fragments of sleep tried to fill in disorder, as a few stars try to people a dark autumn sky"

"It remained there, at his very center, a lost jewel in whose making all the light of the world had been consumed"






















*The pledged word, faith, truth.
**The law
0 com

The Splendid Thief!

Few people do realize the difference between the art of stealing and plagiarism. For a starter, let me simply add that plagiarism, to whoever doesn't know, means stealing the works of an artist, whether a musician, a poet, a photographer or a painter.
Let's try to point out few factors that are perhaps causing this phenomenon to grow:
First and foremost, the Internet; one of the main drawbacks of the Internet is that you can find anything and everything you need online, it's like everything is provided, but nothing about the real author is given credit to.
Second, we have the withdrawal of the appreciation of art in some societies, that some people steal without knowing that stealing art is just like stealing money, it's worse; your ideas are spread with no credit, you're an astonishing, robbed artist. How poor is that?
In a better society, stealing art can get you sued. See? Think about it. Think about your likeness to the things you see, hear or read, they impress you, right? Think about the effort done in this.
I never realized how plagiarism would feel until I saw couple of my friends struggling to prove the ownership to their works. It pissed me off, as if I were the author, I read their work in other sites, given no name to, I could put myself in their shoes-if I did that, I'm going to feel raged!
However, the art of stealing isn't hard to master. It implies stealing but not stealing, taking ideas to inspire, making them your muse, only to help you. Or giving credit to things that need it-either way, the author must be named, even if unknown or forgotten to you, it's not hard to say "copied", "inspired" or even "stolen".
Whatever silly thing you do and publish online will get credit, even if you don't believe in it, and when it is plagiarized, you will love it, you will appreciate it, because after all you're the master of your own ideas.
Bottom line is, be a proud, splendid thief!
0 com

I Breathe Writing!

I'm writing. I'm writing like a crazy writer who is overflowing with muse, who writes like tomorrow is not coming, as if I need to tell the world the things that matter, and the things that don't.
I write because I want to, not because I have something to say-and wisdom only comes as I go by. Because I believe a pen is mightier than a sword. Because, life? I can portray it in the emotions I write with, and the words I spell. I can create something right now that will change the world, and if I want to, I will, I can, because I believe!
Words are my best friend, they run in my veins like blood, rushing so hard at times of inspiration, and at times of writers' block they're still there, assuring me that there's always muse to come, I just need to open up my heart so that my blood will be flowing again with powerful words. Even words that resemble silence and stillness speak to me more powerfully than words that resemble destruction and misery.
I write because I believe in Charles Peguy's words: A word is not the same with one writer as with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.
I write as if I sing, as if I paint, as if I live..I breathe words that only resemble me.
I write because I'm alive, and I'm alive...because I write!
3 com

If you hate reading, Read this!

Few days ago I was talking with a friend about people who hate reading; it's just so sad that some people prefer going out with friends and receive more fun than to read a book and learn how to give and inspire others.
So, I picked some reasons that would make you indulge with the world of readers:

1) The smell of a book to a reader is like the smell of the rain to a dancer.
G.R Gissing said: "I know every book of mine by its smell, and I have but to put my nose between the pages to be reminded of all sorts of things. "

2) A book is about words and emotions: words are for the brain and emotions are for the heart. It will teach you how to use your brain once, but never neglect your heart's desires.

3) At least there is one beautiful idea, in every book, that needs to be spread, if you want to change the world, a book is one of your guides to it!

4) If you find relish in reading, you'll find relish in writing (Of course if you try).

5) A book teaches you to look into the details of everything, be it ugly or beautiful. It will teach you to describe every tiny thing in the world, with a thousand words.

6) It will also teach you how to look at the big picture. E.g if it's a novel, the descriptions of the protagonist, the eyes, the walk, the body figure, the attitude and etc. will help you visualize the character, each person according to their imagination.

7) If a book resembled a part of your life, be it bad or good, your one thought will be "I'm not alone".

8) Buying an expensive book will force you to read it, and you'll gradually fall in love with it, and finally learn the beauty of spending money on things other than technology.

9) It's the most useful hobby that will broaden your imagination and the way you look at the world around you.

10) And finally, sharing a good book is like sharing your life's lessons written on paper, by someone else, who doesn't know about you, but who somehow felt the same way you did while writing.

Remember this: "Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own. "