Sunday's Mini-Challenge: Eugenio Montale

Hi toads & friends of the Garden ~  I am happy to introduce you to Eugenio Montale.

Eugenio Montale (12 October 1896 – 12 September 1981) was an Italian poet, prose writer, editor and translator, and recipient of the 1975 Nobel Prize in Literature. He is widely considered the greatest Italian lyric poet since Giacomo Leopardi. 

He was born into a family of businessmen in Genoa on October 12, 1896. During World War I, he served as an infantry officer on the Austrian front. Orginially Montale had trained to be an opera singer, but when his voice teacher died in 1923, he gave up singing and concentrated his efforts on writing. After his first book, Ossi di seppia (Cuttlefish Bones), appeared in 1925, Montale was received by critics as a profoundly original and experimental poet. His style mixed archaic words with scientific terms and idioms from the vernacular. He was dismissed from his directorship of the Gabinetto Vieusseux research library in 1938 for refusing to join the Fascist party. He withdrew from public life and began translating English writers such as Shakespeare, T. S. Eliot,Herman Melville, and Eugene O’Neill. In 1939, Le occasioni(The Occasions) appeared, his most innovative book, followed by La bufera e altro (The Storm and Other Things, 1956). It was this trio of books that won Montale the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1975 and established him as a founder of the hermeneutic school of Italian poetry.

In 1948 he moved from Florence to Milan where he became chief literary critic for Italy’s primary newspaper, Corriere della Sera. In addition to writing poems, Montale was also a prolific essayist, writer of stories and travel sketches, distinguished music critic, translator, and amateur painter. After a long break from writing poetry, Montale published four collections during the last ten years of his life: Satura (Miscellany, 1971), Diario del ‘71 e del ‘72 (Diary of 1971 and 1972, 1973), Quaderno di quattro anni (Notebook of Four Years, 1977), and Altri versi e poesi disperse (Other and Uncollected Poems, 1981). Eugenio Montale died in Milan in 1981 at the age of 85.

To Rest In The Shade

(Meriggiare pallido e assorto)

To rest in the shade, pale and thoughtful,

by a sun-hot garden wall

listening among thorns and brushwood

to the cry of blackbirds, the hiss of snakes.

In cracks in the soil or amongst the vetch

to spy on the files of red ants

now scattering now intertwining

at the top of miniscule mountains.

To observe among the leaves the distant

quivering scales of the sea,

while the tremulous cries rise

from cicadas on the naked hills.

And walking in the dazzling sun

to feel with a saddened wonder

how all of life and its travails

is in this following a wall

topped by bright shards of glass.

Perhaps One Morning Walking

(Forse un mattino andando in un’aria di vetro)

Perhaps one morning walking in dry glassy air,

I will turn, I will see the miracle complete:

nothingness at my shoulder, the void behind

me, with a drunkard’s terror.

Then, as on a screen, trees houses hills

will advance swiftly in familiar illusion,

But it will be too late; and I will return, silently,

to men who do not look back, with my secret.

Another Effect Of The Moon

(La trama del carrubo che si profila)

The form of the carob tree that looms

naked against the somnolent blue,

the sound of voices, the process

of silver fingers over the doorsteps,

the feather that gets entangled, on the jetty

a trampling of feet that dies away,

and the felucca already falling back in flight

its abandoned sail in tatters. 

The Well

(Cigola la carrucola del pozzo)

The pulley of the well-shaft creaks,

water rises to the light and dissolves you.

A memory trembles in the refilled pail,

an image smiles in its pure circle.

Touch your face to evanescent lips:

the past wavers, grows old,

belongs to another…

Ah, how the wheel groans

already, returns you to the dark depths,

vision, a distance divides us.

You can browse more of his translated work here.

Our challenge is to write a new poem or prose poem in response to Eugenio Montale's words.   Some examples of responses include affirming what the speaker said or using his title or line of verse as a jumping board for your own writing.   The prompt is wide open so feel free to explore where your muse takes you.   I look forward to reading your work ~   Happy weekend to all ~ Grace

Sunday Mini-Challenge - Swedish poetry and Karin Boye

Hello toads and a happy weekend to you, this is Björn Rudberg, premiering writing a prompt for you. I hope you like a little inspiration from our small country far up north.

Karin Boye around 1940

When I grew up poetry had very little importance to Swedes, very few read poetry, and it was rarely heard. There is one exception to this rule, and that is Karin Boye (1900-1941). I think almost every Swede can still say which is the favorite poem of Karin, and start to recite a few lines. Like for example.

Ja visst gör det ont

Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister.
Varför skulle annars våren tveka?
Varför skulle all vår heta längtan  
bindas i det frusna bitterbleka?
Höljet var ju knoppen hela vintern.
Vad är det för nytt, som tär och spränger?
Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister,
ont för det som växer
                              och det som stänger.

Cont

Or in English

Yes, of course it hurts

Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking.

Why else would the springtime falter?

Why would all our ardent longing

bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor?

After all, the bud was covered all the winter.

What new thing is it that bursts and wears?

Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking,

hurts for that which grows

                         and that which bars.

Cont

Or listen to this little clip with her own voice.

Though it's hard to translate her voice, it's quite unique. Her use of metaphors and consistent rhythm (or beat) at the same time using rhymes that never obscure the meaning is quite unique in Swedish Poetry. She used simple words and her poems were often short and precise. Fortunately they are all available online at a karinboye.se, and many of her poems are also available in translations (English and German). 

She was famous already during her life-time and was on the verge on an international success with her a novel Kallocain: a dystopian book that complements the vision of totalitarian state with that of Orwell and Huxley. It is translated to English but quite hard to find I think.

She died after a suicide with sleeping pills, and many still think that it was the developments in Europe that was the cause. In reality as is often is the case, it was unrequited love. Karin was bi-sexual and lived in a lesbian relationship at a time when it was prohibited in Sweden. Her insight into this forbidden side of herself is quite apparent in her earlier poems.

She was also active leftist and worked actively for Clarté a Marxist newspaper, but toward the end of her life she was also disillusioned with the totalitarian side of Communism. There is much more to read about her in Wikipedia.

Today, if you feel up to it, check out her poetry on karinboye.se , and get inspired.

Sunday Feature Artist ~ Kelly Letky

I am thrilled to introduce a blogger, with whom we must all be familiar, as our feature artist this weekend.

Portrait of the Artist
Kelly Letky

Kelly Letky is a freelance graphic artist, poet, gardener, photographer, writer, jewelry designer, wife, mother, sister, daughter, crazy cat lady, friend, runner, and knitter, not necessarily in that order. She lives with her husband, three cats and one dog in the rural countryside of Farmington, NY, beneath a big blue bowl of sky, and enjoys not-nearly-often-enough visits from their three grown children. You can find her writing at Mrs Mediocrity & The Blue Muse.

If you have ever enjoyed a visit to one of Kelly's blogs, you may have come across her amazing fine art photography, as I did, and seen for yourself how poetic vision can be transformed into visual imagery. I asked Kelly if she would be prepared to share a few of her images with us in The Imaginary Garden, and she has generously obliged. More of her outstanding photography can be viewed at Etsy: Blue Muse Fine Art.

November Sky
© Kelly Letky

"I am always, always seeking out the beauty that life holds. These images are just a little of what I have found."

Dance with the Ghosts of Tomorrow
© Kelly Letky

Through the Looking Glass
© Kelly Letky

The Road to Somewhere
© Kelly Letky

Riptide
© Kelly Letky

Straight Down Rain Falling ...
© Kelly Letky

All images are used with permission. 

Our challenge today is entirely open-ended in terms of execution. Simply select an image which inspires you and write a new poem! You may also choose a different image from those shown here, by following the Etsy link above.

Please remember to acknowledge the name of the artist and provide a link back to her Blue Muse blog or Etsy page.

Sunday's Mini-challenge: Gabriela Mistral

Hi toads and friends of the garden.   I am excited to introduce to you the work by Gabriela Mistral.   

Gabriela Mistral (1889-1957), pseudonym for Lucila Godoy y Alcayaga, was born in Vicuña, Chile. She taught elementary and secondary school for many years until her poetry made her famous. She played an important role in the educational systems of Mexico and Chile, was active in cultural committees of the League of Nations, and was Chilean consul in Naples, Madrid, and Lisbon. She held honorary degrees from the Universities of Florence and Guatemala and was an honorary member of various cultural societies in Chile as well as in the United States, Spain, and Cuba. She taught Spanish literature in the United States at Columbia University, Middlebury College, Vassar College, and at the University of Puerto Rico.

Dusk

I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles:
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle. 

She was the first Spanish American author to receive the Nobel Prize in literature in 1945; as such, she will always be seen as a representative figure in the cultural history of the continent. "It is to render homage to the riches of Spanish American literature that we address ourselves today especially to its queen, the poet of Desolación, who has become the great singer of mercy and motherhood," concludes the Nobel Prize citation read by Hjalmar Gullberg at the Nobel ceremony. Mistral's works, both in verse and prose, deal with the basic passion of love as seen in the various relationships of mother and offspring, man and woman, individual and humankind, soul and God. 

Pine Forest

Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father. 

Although she mostly uses regular meter and rhyme, her verses are sometimes difficult to recite because of their harshness, resulting from intentional breaks of the prosodic rules. This apparent deficiency is purposely used by the poet to produce an intended effect—the reader's uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty and harshness that corresponds to the tormented attitude of the lyrical voice and to the passionate character of the poet's worldview. Even when Mistral's verses have the simple musicality of a cradlesong, they vibrate with controlled emotion and hidden tension. In her prose writing Mistral also twists and entangles the language in unusual expressive ways as if the common, direct style were not appropriate to her subject matter and her intensely emotive interpretation of it. 

The Stranger (La Extranjera)

She speaks in her way of her savage seas
With unknown algae and unknown sands;
She prays to a formless, weightless God,
Aged, as if dying.
In our garden now so strange,
She has planted cactus and alien grass.
The desert zephyr fills her with its breath
And she has loved with a fierce, white passion
She never speaks of, for if she were to tell
It would be like the face of unknown stars.
Among us she may live for eighty years,
Yet always as if newly come,
Speaking a tongue that plants and whines
Only by tiny creatures understood.
And she will die here in our midst
One night of utmost suffering,
With only her fate as a pillow,
And death, silent and strange. 

Woman:  The Mad One (In part, please click to read the entire poem)

As soon as nighttime thickens
And all that was erect must rest
And all that was most secret stirs,
I hear him climb up the stairs.
No matter that he comes unheard,
That I am the only one aware.
Why should his step resound
in another sleeplessness?

In one breath of mine he's climbing
And I suffer till he comes-
Mad cataract his destiny
One time rejects, uplifts another
And thornbranch, feverish mad
That grates against my door.
I dare not rise, my eyes are closed,
But I see his form entire-
That instant, like a small quarry,
We have truce beneath the night.
But I hear him climb back down
Like an eternal tide.

You can read more about Gabriela Mistral's life here.

Our challenge is to write a new poem or prose poem in response to Gabriela Mistral's words.   Some examples of responses include affirming what the speaker said or using her title or line of verse as a jumping board for your own writing.   The prompt is wide open so feel free to explore where your muse takes you.   I look forward to reading your work ~   Happy weekend to all ~ Grace

Sunday's Mini-challenge: Claribel Alegria

Hello Toads & Visitors to the garden!  I am happy to introduce to you the poems by Claribel Alegría.  

Metempsychosis

If there is a return

my wait has been long
and if there is not
it has been barely
a sudden lightning flash.

–From Sorrow, by Claribel Alegria

Claribel Alegria was born to Nicaraguan and Salvadoran parents in Estelí, Nicaragua, on May 12, 1924. She grew up in the Santa Ana area of western El Salvador, and in 1943 she moved to the United States. In 1948 she received a B.A. in Philosophy and Letters from George Washington University. Throughout her life, Alegría has emphasized her commitment to nonviolent resistance, even during her close association with the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), the people’s movement that took control of the Nicaraguan government in 1979 and overthrew dictator Anastasio Somoza Debayle. In 1985, Alegría returned to Nicaragua to aid in the country’s reconstruction.

She has written nine books of poetry and prose. Alegria’s long relationship with her husband, Darwin “Bud” Flakoll – spiritual, extremely intimate, devoted to art and dedicated to humanitarian and social justice activities – started as a three-month fiery courtship and a quick marriage and grew into a rich, collaborative life of testimonio. Shortly before Alegria and Flakoll were to go on a trip to southern Asia in 1995, Flakoll passed away. Alegria traveled to Singapore, Bangkok and Jakarta with her husband’s soul, as she has said, and wrote her poetry collection, Sorrow, about that trip – and her posthumous dialogue with her husband.

The Rivers

The terrain in my country
is abrupt
the gullies go dry
in the summertime
and are stained with red
in the winter.
The Sumpul is boiling with corpses
a mother said
the Goascarán
the Lempa
are all boiling with the dead.
The rivers no longer sing
they lament
they sweep their dead along
cradle them
they twinkle
under the tepid moon
under the dark
accomplice night
they cradle their dead
the wounded
those who are fleeing
those who pass by
they grow irate
bubbling and seething
dawn draws near
almost within reach
the rivers are coffins
crystalline flasks
cradling their dead
escorting them
between their wide banks
the dead sail down
and the sea receives them
and they revive.

Rain
As the falling rain
trickles among the stones
memories come bubbling out.
It's as if the rain
had pierced my temples.
Streaming
streaming chaotically
come memories:
the reedy voice
of the servant
telling me tales
of ghosts.
They sat beside me
the ghosts
and the bed creaked
that purple-dark afternoon
when I learned you were leaving forever,
a gleaming pebble
from constant rubbing
becomes a comet.
Rain is falling
falling
and memories keep flooding by
they show me a senseless
world 
a voracious
world--abyss
ambush
whirlwind 
spur
but I keep loving it
because I do
because of my five senses
because of my amazement
because every morning, 
because forever, I have loved it
without knowing why. 

She confesses in an interview, "Since I was very young the two main themes in my writing have been love and death. When I was young, however, death was distant. Now death is near, especially since Bud passed away. Now death is my friend. I speak to her."  

The challenge is to write a response to Claribel's poems by writing a new poem or prose poem.   Some examples of responses are affirming what the speaker said or using her title or verse as jumping board of your own work.   Please link a specific post to "Mr Linky" below and visit your fellow writers.   

Wishing you all happy weekend ~ Grace

Sunday Feature Artist: Lisa Graham

Hello toads & fellow visitors!!   I am very happy to feature the lovely artwork by Lisa Graham.   She is a registered nurse by training and self-taught artist, family girl and art junkie living in Wichita, Kansas, USA.    

"I have explored creative outlets since childhood...dance,  piano, cello, doll making and more... but did not find my  true love in art until nearly 42 years of age, when out of boredom I drew a picture of a chair in my living room with my grown son's old Crayola colored pencils.  I was so elated with the result that I went out the very next day and bought  a quality set of colored pencils and I drew anything and everything I could think of  for the next two months.   I felt like I had tapped into a part of my brain that had never been used before. Then one winter night at a friend's house, she suggested we paint something.   I have been painting ever since.

The inspiration for my art work is drawn from a vast mix of imagination, emotion, life travels,family, friends, and every day scenes and places that catch my attention.   A  funny expression, an old photo, a beautiful building, a quaint cafe, a mother leading her children, grief and loss and joy, or even the color of my morning coffee...these are all the things I love to capture in my paintings."

           Bree & Dreamweaver Coat

The Blessing Bringer

                                                     

                                                                    Scrapbook City

                                                                                    Fleeting Thoughts
                                                                      

                                                     
                                                     Mama Likes the House in Order
                                                                   
                                                 

 

                                                                The Wishing Sisters
                                                                      

                                  Georgey and Esther Attend Couple's Therapy

                                                               Sunflower Stepper
                                                     

"I hope my work brings you joy and causes you to look more closely at the beautiful world around you.  I also hope that if you have ever wished you could draw or paint that my story will encourage you to take that first step.  Discovering this passion for art has been life changing for me and it would be for you too!

Thank you for looking at my art!"

Blog:   http://lisagrahamart.blogspot.ca/

Facebook:   Lisa Graham Art 

Etsy Shop:   http://www.etsy.com/shop/LisaGrahamArt

Our challenge is to write a new poem or prose poem or flash fiction (250 words limit)  based on the work of Lisa Graham. If you upload her image/s in your writing, please acknowledge the name of the artist and link to her site. She has expressed interest in our work and I will be sending her the link after we have completed our challenge.   I will be checking in during the week to see if anyone else has linked up. 

Wishing you all Happy Weekend ~ Grace (aka Heaven)

Sunday Feature Artist: Elisabetta Trevisan

Hi everyone !   I am excited to share with you the work of Italian artist, Elisabetta Trevisan.  She was born in 1957 in Merano, a town in northern Italy, bordering on Austria.  She attended the art school of Padua and her father is a famous illustrator and cartoonist.  

Thaw     

"I have always devoted myself mainly to painting. My artworks are realized using medium density panels on which I work mixing different techniques; gouache, pastel, water colour. I also decorate on backed clay, glass, wood, fabrics, mural surfaces and self-made Papier-maché objects. Moreover, I have contributed as an illustrator to many magazines, illustrated a children book on ecology in collaboration with Ente Parco Fiume Sile, painted a collector's pack of tarot ed. Lo Scarabeo – Torino, realized settings for animated films for the television."

The Witch

Necklace of Pearls

Chimera, The Sound of Thunder

The Night

Pandora

The Passage

Klairi Angelou writes:

"Elisabetta Trevisan, inspired by the Renaissance and the Pre-Raphaelites with their infamous depiction of female figures in interior and exterior environments, has created a stunning oeuvre dominated by women with beautiful hair styles and flowing fabrics."

Website:  here
"MY FINE ART PRINTS SITE" http://betta.redbubble.com/
You can find her in Facebook. 

Our challenge is to write a new poem or prose poem or flash fiction (250 words limit)  based on the work & theme (women) of Elisabetta Trevisan. If you upload her image/s in your writing, please acknowledge the name of the artist and link to her site. She has expressed interest in our work and I will be sending her the link after we have completed our challenge.   I will be checking in during the week to see if anyone else has linked up. 

Wishing you all Happy Weekend ~ Grace (aka Heaven)