A Homage to Skins (poema meu)

pousa os teus lábios nos meus

até esquecermos de onde viemos

descansa o teu coração no meu

até o pensamento nos libertar

da tensão que não repousa

do amor que nunca pára de escorrer

tal é a sabedoria que transporta

nesta hora de cumplicidade

poem of the day: Sudden Light

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

Sudden Light

I have been here before,

But when or how I cannot tell:

I know the grass beyond the door,

The sweet keen smell,

The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,—

How long ago I may not know:

But just when at that swallow's soar

Your neck turn'd so,

Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?

And shall not thus time's eddying flight

Still with our lives our love restore

In death's despite,

And day and night yield one delight once more?

Poem of the day:The Anxiety of Coincidence

Mark Bibbins

The Anxiety of Coincidence

Your object will have made a good subject
and I should get to tell you so: the bird
with a beak but no mouth, we hear him only

when it's night in the Dominican Republic
and Israel at the same time. Someone will
find your marginalia useful, so try to spare

some ink. I took dictation only from you,
for whom verbs were nothing and tense
everything. See the difference, you kept asking,

but it wasn't a question. See how enormous—
camel hauling an empty wheelchair, conspiracy
of hangman men, dried-out song that makes

it snow. You realize we could have walked
home in the hours taking inventory took, jack
of no traits. Bird with no wings.

Let's go

Broken

Something is broken inside of me.

Literature says it better

Fragile Broken Things

Poem of the day: Study for Salome Dancing Before Herod

Eric Pankey

Study for Salome Dancing Before Herod

In the movement toward disappearance,
She is pulled by an undertow of ecstasy.
She wakes in a room where she never fell asleep.
A thousand starlings leaf-out a bare tree.
She wakes in a dusky, tenebrous zone.
Evening on the ridges and in the mountains,
But light still spills on the valley floor.
What transport brought her here?
The shape of gravity embodies a pear on the table.
Here time is the only sovereign.
She is like an arrow slipped from its quiver.

Labours of love: End of The Road

http://issuu.com/endoftheroad/docs/english_issue_1?mode=embed&layout=http://skin.issuu.com/v/light/layout.xml&showFlipBtn=true

Here it is, at last and it looks so good :)

I'm so proud to announce one of my new projects and a true labour of love. It's a new metal magazine (End of The Road) I was invited to be a part of by someone I can now can a friend, Ekin. He is the editor and the nicest person you'll ever meet. This is the first article I ever wrote about anything. I had only written poems up til now. It was a good start, I think. It's always a good day when you get to have total creative freedom to write about the music you love and listen to everyday. As you might know, I'm a sort of a metal geek, so to me, this was a kind of dream come true. I get to write about whatever I want? I'm in. Besides, I would never do it if I didn't feel I had a safe environment behind me. I even had my little one (Regina) join our team, so that makes the whole experience even better.

The link is right there, read it, pass it unto your friends and enemies (why not?). If you like metal, you absolutely have to read it, if you want to know more about metal, it's a good way to start. And if you're just curious, don't let fear stop you.

The first issue of End of The Road came to fruition. To its sucess. \m/

Classic Poems: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

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.

Poem of the day: Acrobat

Elise Paschen

Acrobat

The night you were conceived
we balanced underneath a tent,

amazed at the air-marveler,
who, hand-over-hand, seized the stars,

then braved the line to carry home
a big-top souvenir umbrella.

Earth-bound a year, you dare
gravity, sliding from the couch

to table. Mornings, on tiptoe,
stretching fingers, you grab

Saturn, Venus and the moons
raining down from the sky of ceiling.

Prendas de Natal: Livros, Música

Entretanto, já recebi esta preciosidade da literatura, a obra poética completa de García Lorca. É um grande calhamaço, mas espero que me dê algum prazer a ler. É um autor que só vou descobrir agora, mas estou com muita curiosidade. Além disso, é sempre bom receber livros de poesia, porque quase ninguém os compra. Mas como já me conhecem, felizmente sabem que se me puserem um livro de poesia no sapatinho, eu lhes vou ficar muito agradecida. E é o caso. A literatura é infindável. E ofereçam-me sempre livros em papel, por favor. Prefiro cem mil vezes um livro físico do que qualquer ebook, nem que seja de graça. Não me vão tirar também isso, não? Se daqui a 10 anos já não existirem livros físicos, acho que vou passar por uma grave crise existencial. Bem podem tentar vender-me iphones, ipads e todo esse grupo de coisas que existem para nos facilitar a vida e convidar à inércia mental que eu não vou aceitar. Agradeço, mas prefiro os meus livros e os meus CDs tal como estão agora, com folhas para folhear, CDs físicos com um livrinho com as letras das músicas e ilustrações únicas. O resto, passa-me ao lado.

O segundo álbum de Darkwater também não me vai escapar até porque já passou algum tempo do seu lançamento, cerca de 1 mês, creio, e já estou a ficar ansiosa por não o ter ao pé do outro. Vão ficar com ciúmes. Além disso, é um óptimo álbum e eu quero tê-lo na minha colecção. Em termos de CDs, por agora é isto. Para o ano comprarei certamente outros até porque Opeth vai lançar um álbum para o ano e possivelmente Dream Theater também. Promete ser um ano de muitos concertos e novos álbuns. Boa música, é o que se quer. Prometo também rever as minhas idas a concertos de este ano com fotos e descrições tal como o fiz o ano passado em jeito de balanço. Até porque é um bom exercício de memória.

E uns CDzitos para animar a malta. Porcupine Tree para completar a minha colecção. Tirando álbuns ao vivo que esses não compro. De resto, tenho todos os CDs de Porcupine Tree que queria ter e este é daqueles velhinhos que vale a pena ter e ouvir vezes sem conta. The Sky Moves Sideways. E como foi reeditado agora, calha mesmo bem.

Também vou receber uma destas, mas há um pormenor, é uma daquelas guitarras miniaturas e não a guitarra original de Dimebag Darrel porque essas não posso comprar. Fico-me pela minha Ibanez e Jackson que por agora dão para o gasto. Mas queria mostrá-la só para se deliciarem um pouco. É linda, não é? E é incrível os pormenores que esta guitarra apresenta em miniatura. Parece que tenho outra colecção para fazer. Guitarras miniaturas dos meus heróis. E fez 6 anos que Dimebag morreu. Uma lenda do metal que nunca tirará o seu nome e o dos seus Pantera dos nossos corações. Vai ficar uma maravilha no meu quarto.

Vou receber alguns livros, como sempre e ainda bem. Os meus primos que até são pessoas como eu que lêem livros dão-me sempre um bom livro no Natal. Um bem haja para eles que sempre fizeram questão de alimentar o meu gosto pela literatura. Devo dizer que já tenho imensos livros para ler em 2011 e isso é uma satisfação.

Poem of the day: Now Winter Nights Enlarge

Thomas Campion

Now Winter Nights Enlarge

Now winter nights enlarge
The number of their houres ;
And clouds their stormes discharge
Upon the ayrie towres.
Let now the chimneys blaze
And cups o'erflow with wine,
Let well-tun'd words amaze
With harmonie diuine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall waite on hunny Loue
While youthfull Reuels, Masks, and Courtly sights,
Sleepes leaden spels remoue.

This time doth well dispence
With louers long discourse ;
Much speech hath some defence,
Though beauty no remorse.
All doe not all things well ;
Some measures comely tread ;
Some knotted Ridles tell ;
Some Poems smoothly read.
The Summer hath his ioyes,
And Winter his delights ;
Though Loue and all his pleasures are but toyes,
They shorten tedious nights.

Photography + thoughts

What would happen if we would just let go?

Poem of the day: Solar system bedsheets

Sarah Vap

Solar system bedsheets There, behind sunlight, is the long pressure of a child's love. Becoming mute with the child's love. Long influence of stars touched by the hand wrapped, asleep, in the newly laundered sheets. Touched to widths of butterscotch stretched. Split-apart as the voices, rain thickening, against one another forever, if glass. Forever if resting against one another. Forever if holding the end of a year like this: the nights lengthening. I check: each child is alive in his sleep. You are also asleep, love, at the end of the yarn you are weaving around the edge of a pink paper heart fattening—quieter, now. Forever, if quieter, now.

Poem of the day: The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less

Gerard Manley Hopkins

The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less; The times are winter, watch, a world undone: They waste, they wither worse; they as they run Or bring more or more blazon man's distress. And I not help. Nor word now of success: All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one— Work which to see scarce so much as begun Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness. Or what is else? There is your world within. There rid the dragons, root out there the sin. Your will is law in that small commonweal...

Poem of the day: Dawn Dreams

Rachel Hadas

Dawn Dreams

Dreams draw near at dawn and then recede
even if you beckon them.
They loom like demons
you tug by the tail to examine from up close
and then let fly away.
Their colors at once brighter and less bright
than you remembered, they
hover and insinuate all day
at the corner of your eye.