Erato, Muse Of Poetry
Erato, Muse Of Poetry
Sir Edward John Poynter (1870)
D.h. Lawrence ~ Roses
Nature responds so beautifully.
Roses are only once-wild roses, that were given an extra chance,
So they bloomed out and filled themselves with coloured fulness
Out of sheer desire to be splendid, and more splendid.
"My Sweet Rose" (1903)
John William Waterhouse (1849-1917)
Anna Akhmatova ~ Silent Words
''The triumphs of a mysterious non-meeting are desolate ones; unspoken phrases, silent words.''
Anna Akhmatova ((23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)
Tears Of Humanity…
Tears of humanity, tears of humanity,
flowing eternally early and late...
Flowing invisibly, flowing in secrecy,
ever abundantly, ever unceasingly -
flowing as rain flows with autumn finality
all through the night like a river in spate
(1849) Fyodor Tyutchev
translation Peter Tempest
Monument to the Dead (1895) by French sculptor Albert Bartholomé
Christina Rossetti ~ October
Crack your first nut and light your first fire;
Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,
Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
Logs we can find wherever we are.
Spring one soft day will open the leaves,
Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;
Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,
Never fancy I've tears in my showers;
Dance, nights and days! And dance on, my hours!
from The Months: A Pageant.
Painting: Autumn Leaves
Sir John Everett Millais - 1855-1856
Dorothy Parker ~ Midnight
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
All blend to one.
No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light
Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest.
There is no edged thing in all this night,
Save in my breast.
Stanislav Zhukovsky - 1912
“Hands, do what you're bid;Bring the balloon of the mindThat bellies and drags in the windInto its narrow shed.”William Butler Yeats
Photo: The Balloon Merchant, 1931
Anne Bronte ~ The Silent Hour Of Night
“I love the silent hour of night, for blissful dreams may then arise, revealing to my charmed sight what may not bless my waking eyes.”
― Anne Brontë -
Moonlit Landscape, by Edward Steichen, 1907
A Feeling That Can Not Be Described, Only Felt ~ Poem By Monique Lucy Weberink
Seldom I live in this imaginary world
Surrounded by ghostly energy, I can feel it
Nothing else is present in my dream today
All that is there is this huge dark space
I feel haunted now all the time
What scares me most is being alone here
All alone. Without any good soul to accompany me
Just the screams of demons and evil spirits
Joyous feeling, why did you leave me?
You deserted me and left me here all alone
Wandering around in a delirium that is not mine
It takes over my unconsciousness
Going around in circles until I lose direction
Now I can surrender, let myself fall into the deep
Nothing more of me is left other then a black hole
My spirit lost and my body absorbed due gravity
Knowing that I am going to die.
Monique Lucy Weberink
Painting is Angel in Chains by Odilon Redon
Paul Verlaine – What Is A Poem?
“A poem is really a kind of machine for producing the poetic state by means of words.”
― Paul Verlaine
Paul Verlaine II
Anders Zorn - 1895