All posts tagged: poems

Optical Poems by Oskar Fischinger: Discover the Avant-Garde Animator Despised by Hitler & Dissed by Disney

Optical Poems by Oskar Fischinger: Discover the Avant-Garde Animator Despised by Hitler & Dissed by Disney

At a time when much of ani­ma­tion was con­sumed with lit­tle anthro­po­mor­phized ani­mals sport­ing white gloves, Oskar Fischinger went in a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent direc­tion. His work is all about danc­ing geo­met­ric shapes and abstract forms spin­ning around a flat fea­ture­less back­ground. Think of a Mon­dri­an or Male­vich paint­ing that moves, often in time to the music. Fischinger’s movies have a mes­mer­iz­ing ele­gance to them. Check out his 1938 short An Opti­cal Poem above. Cir­cles pop, sway and dart across the screen, all in time to Franz Liszt’s 2nd Hun­gar­i­an Rhap­sody. This is, of course, well before the days of dig­i­tal. While it might be rel­a­tive­ly sim­ple to manip­u­late a shape in a com­put­er, Fischinger’s tech­nique was decid­ed­ly more low tech. Using bits of paper and fish­ing line, he indi­vid­u­al­ly pho­tographed each frame, some­how doing it all in sync with Liszt’s com­po­si­tion. Think of the hours of mind-numb­ing work that must have entailed. Born in 1900 near Frank­furt, Fischinger trained as a musi­cian and an archi­tect before dis­cov­er­ing film. In the 1930s, he moved to Berlin and …

How Robert Frost Wrote One of His Most Famous Poems, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

How Robert Frost Wrote One of His Most Famous Poems, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

Sev­er­al gen­er­a­tions of Amer­i­can stu­dents have now had the expe­ri­ence of being told by an Eng­lish teacher that they’d been read­ing Robert Frost all wrong, even if they’d nev­er read him at all. Most, at least, had seen his lines “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less trav­eled by, / And that has made all the dif­fer­ence” — or in any case, they’d heard them quot­ed with intent to inspire. “ ‘The Road Not Tak­en’ has noth­ing to do with inspi­ra­tion and stick-to-it-ive­ness,” writes The Hedge­hog Review’s Ed Simon in a reflec­tion on Frost’s 150th birth­day. Rather, “it’s a melan­cholic exha­la­tion at the futil­i­ty of choice, a dirge about endur­ing in the face of mean­ing­less­ness.” Sim­i­lar­ly mis­in­ter­pret­ed is Frost’s sec­ond-known poem, “Stop­ping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” whose wag­on-dri­ving nar­ra­tor declares that “the woods are love­ly, dark and deep, / But I have promis­es to keep / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep.” You can hear the whole thing read …

Laurie Anderson’s Mind-Blowing Performance of C. P. Cavafy’s Poems “Waiting for the Barbarians” & “Ithaca”

Laurie Anderson’s Mind-Blowing Performance of C. P. Cavafy’s Poems “Waiting for the Barbarians” & “Ithaca”

In the video above, Lau­rie Ander­son describes C. P. Cavafy’s poem “Wait­ing for the Bar­bar­ians” as being “set in ancient Rome.” That’s a rea­son­able inter­pre­ta­tion, giv­en that it con­tains an emper­or, sen­a­tors, and ora­tors, though Cavafy him­self said that none of them are nec­es­sar­i­ly Roman. The uni­ver­sal­i­ty of the sit­u­a­tion the poem describes, in which a state’s elite turn out in their fin­ery despite hav­ing noth­ing to do but await the tit­u­lar bar­bar­ian inva­sion, cer­tain­ly has­n’t been lost on its inter­preters. J. M. Coet­zee, for exam­ple, set his nov­el Wait­ing for the Bar­bar­ians on the edge of an unnamed “Empire.” Ander­son also men­tions think­ing, while con­sid­er­ing the poem’s evo­ca­tion of gov­ern­ment dead­lock, “Hang on, this sounds famil­iar” — and none can deny that com­par­isons between the Unit­ed States and the declin­ing Roman Empire have been in the air late­ly. That, in part, inspired the per­for­mance that fol­lows, in which Ander­son and a ver­i­ta­ble Greek cho­rus inter­pret both “Wait­ing for the Bar­bar­ians,” which Cavafy wrote in 1904, and the Odyssey-based “Itha­ca” (which you can also hear read …

Two poems, four years in detention: the Chinese dissident who smuggled his writing out of prison | Censorship

Two poems, four years in detention: the Chinese dissident who smuggled his writing out of prison | Censorship

Most of my manuscripts are locked up in the filing cabinets of the ministry of security, and the agents there study and ponder them repeatedly, more carefully than the creator himself. The guys working this racket have superb memories; a certain chief of the Chengdu public security bureau can still recite the poems I published in an underground magazine in the 1980s. While the literati write nostalgically, hoping to go down in literary history, the real history may be locked in the vaults of the security department. The above is excerpted from my book June 4: My Testimony, published in Taiwan in 2011. I wrote that book three times, the later drafts on paper much better than the paper I used for writing in prison, which was so soft and brittle I had to write very lightly. Paper outside prison is solid and flexible enough that you don’t have to worry about puncturing it with the tip of a pen. Thus, I restrained myself and filled in a page of paper, and then how many thousand – ten …

Poems on London’s underground: free riches I hold in high esteem | Rachel Cooke

Poems on London’s underground: free riches I hold in high esteem | Rachel Cooke

As worries grow over the cost of culture – barely a week goes by without an actor complaining about theatre ticket prices – one form of art remains absolutely free, in London at least. On the underground, there is still poetry, as there has been since 1986. The new verses for spring – this is the 116th set of poems – include the lovely Riches I hold in light esteem (also known as The Old Stoic) by Emily Brontë: scant lines about freedom and courage that may just make weary commuter eyes leak a little as the train clanks between Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square. I’ve always loved Poems on the Underground, a scheme supported by the Arts Council, among others. It is among the most important public art of my lifetime, running a close second to Antony Gormley’s Angel of the North. So when I heard its archive had arrived at Cambridge University, I took this as a long overdue acknowledgement – of its power, its scope, its high-minded ambition. People talk about wellness, …

‘I write all my poems with a quill by candlelight’: John Cooper Clarke on the joy of life without tech | John Cooper Clarke

‘I write all my poems with a quill by candlelight’: John Cooper Clarke on the joy of life without tech | John Cooper Clarke

Back in the day, I used to feel a degree of sympathy for those who had been ­compelled to become computer ­literate. I would see these guys in the city, ­struggling home with a rucksack loaded with technology, ruining the line of their Hugo Boss suit. It looked like a ball and chain to me. So I stayed away. Whenever anyone mentioned ­computers, I would say: “What do I need a computer for? I’m a poet.” Later, when mobile phones came out, I was sitting on public transport next to two girls when I heard one of them say to the other: “My boss has just bought me a new mobile phone.” I thought, yeah, I bet he has. If he’d put an iron collar around your neck, would you be happy about that, too? The adoption of mobile phones is probably the moment I truly drifted away from technology. At first people said they admired me, as though it was some sort of principled position I was taking. I thought, yeah, you’re admiring me …

A scholar discovers stories and poems possibly written by Louisa May Alcott under a pseudonym

A scholar discovers stories and poems possibly written by Louisa May Alcott under a pseudonym

Sign up to our free IndyArts newsletter for all the latest entertainment news and reviews Sign up to our free IndyArts newsletter The author of “Little Women” may have been even more productive and sensational than previously thought. Max Chapnick, a postdoctoral teaching associate at Northeastern University, believes he found about 20 stories and poems written by Louisa May Alcott under her own name as well as pseudonyms for local newspapers in Massachusetts in the late 1850s and early 1860s. One of the pseudonyms is believed to be E. H. Gould, including a story about her house in Concord, Massachusetts, and a ghost story along the lines of the Charles Dickens classic “A Christmas Carol.” He also found four poems written by Flora Fairfield, a known pseudonym of Alcott’s. One of the stories written under her own name was about a young painter. “It’s saying she’s really like … she’s hustling, right? She’s publishing a lot,” Chapnick said on a visit to the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, a national research library of pre-20th century …

A sandy place, a recipe for a nation and a Christmas plea: three poems by Benjamin Zephaniah | Books

We Refugees I come from a musical place Where they shoot me for my song And my brother has been tortured By my brother in my land. I come from a beautiful place Where they hate my shade of skin They don’t like the way I pray And they ban free poetry. I come from a beautiful place Where girls cannot go to school There you are told what to believe And even young boys must grow beards. I come from a great old forest I think it is now a field And the people I once knew Are not there now. We can all be refugees Nobody is safe, All it takes is a mad leader Or no rain to bring forth food, We can all be refugees We can all be told to go, We can be hated by someone For being someone. I come from a beautiful place Where the valley floods each year And each year the hurricane tells us That we must keep moving on. I come from an ancient …

Two Poems

Two Poems

Scardanelli Speaks Can you hear, will you comprehend, if I speak to you of my long, grieving sickness?—Friedrich Hölderlin How can I sing to you, Diotima, without wineand the muted piano freezing me with gestures.How can I describe, through their cadences, your slow ceremoniesif I cannot drink you from my cup,if you don’t choke rowdily […] Source link

A Poem by Mosab Abu Toha: ‘Younger Than War’

A Poem by Mosab Abu Toha: ‘Younger Than War’

Christopher Anderson / Magnum November 9, 2023, 8 AM ET I wrote this poem last year, reflecting on my childhood under Israeli military occupation. I’m now staying in Jabalia, a United Nations refugee camp, with my wife and three kids. I’m reading this poem to myself and wondering if my children will be able to write poems about the bombs and explosions they are seeing. I was 8 the first time I witnessed a rocket. Now my youngest child, born in America in May 2021, is living through the third wave of Israeli bombing. Not only are he and his older brother and sister smelling death around them; but they have also lost their house in Beit Lahia 10 days ago. Luckily no one was at home. My son Yazzan, who is 8 years old, asks me, “Are our toys still alive?” — Mosab Abu Toha Tanks roll through dust, through eggplant fields.Beds unmade, lightening in the sky, brotherjumps to the window to watch warplanesflying through clouds of smokeafter air strikes. Warplanes that look like …