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tamsoj · 3 months

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Anne Stevenson, "Letter to Sylvia Plath," from A Mind Apart: Poems of Melancholy, Madness, and Addiction

#anne stevenson #sylvia plath #a mind apart #darkness #poetry #lit #literature

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texaschainsawmascara · 2 years

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Unknown / Down In A Hole - Alice In Chains / Devil In Me - Halsey / To the Countess of Blessington - Lord Byron / The Lament for Icarus - Herbert James Draper / Angel On Fire - Halsey / Cocoa Hooves - Dave Bayley / Bloodsport, “When Rome Falls” - Yves Olade / Stone Milk, “The Myth of Medea” - Anne Stevenson

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ma-pi-ma · 4 months

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“Devi abitare la poesia

se vuoi fare poesia”.

E cosa significa “abitare”?

Significa portarla come un abito, indossare

le parole, sedendo nella luce più netta,

nella seta del mattino, nel fodero della notte;

un sentire spoglio e frondoso in un’aria che sorprende;

familiare…insolita.

E cosa significa “fare”?

Essere e diventare il clima mutevole

delle parole, il servo della musa a condizioni

atroci, intraprendere viaggi sopra voci,

evitare la collina dell’ego, il pozzo dell’afflizione,

la sirena che sussurra stampare, successo, stampare,

successo, successo, successo.

E perché abitare, fare, ereditare poesia?

Oh, è la commedia condivisa della peggiore

benedizione; il suono che guida la mano;

la parola vitale che scorre da una mente all’altra

attraverso le stanze lavate dei sensi;

una di quelle stregate, indifendibili, impoetiche

croci che pur dobbiamo portare.

Anne Stevenson, da Le vie delle parole

#anne stevenson

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seekingstars · 2 months

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Drench - Anne Stevenson

Source - TLS

#poetry #anne stevenson

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unknownorgan · 10 days

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Anne Stevenson

#anne stevenson #poem #poet #p #words #poetry

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violettesiren · 5 months

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When trees are bare, when ground is more glowing than summer, in sun, in November, you can see what lay under confusing eloquence of green.

Bare boughs in their cunning twist this way and that way, trying to persuade with crooked reasoning. But trees are constrained from within to conform to skeleton.

Nothing they put on will equal these lines of cold branches, the willows in bunches, birches like lightning, transparent in brown spinneys, beeches.

The Sun Appears in November by Anne Stevenson

#anne stevenson

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poem-today · 1 year

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A poem by Anne Stevenson

Anaesthesia

They slip away who never said goodbye, My vintage friends so long depended on To warm deep levels of my memory. And if I cared for them, care has to learn How to grieve sparingly and not to cry. Age is an exercise in unconcern, An anaesthetic, lest the misery Of fresh departures make the final one Unwelcome. There’s a white indemnity That with the first frost tamps the garden down. There’s nothing we can do but let it be. And now this you and now that she is gone, There’s less and less of me that needs to die. Nor do those vacant spaces terrify.

Anne Stevenson (1933-2020)

#anne stevenson #english poetry #sonnet #anaesthesia

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the-final-sentence · 2 years

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And just for a split second, teetering on the verge of it, she believed everything that had to be was understood.

Anne Stevenson, from "False Flowers"

#Anne Stevenson #False Flowers

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ukdamo · 2 years

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The Victory

Anne Stevenson

I thought you were my victory

though you cut me like a knife

when I brought you out of my body

into your life.

Tiny antagonist, gory,

blue as a bruise. The stains

of your cloud of glory

bled from my veins.

How can you dare, blind thing,

blank insect eyes?

You barb the air. You sting

with bladed cries.

Snail. Scary knot of desires.

Hungry snarl. Small son.

Why do I have to love you?

How have you won?

#motherhood #birth #poetry #anne stevenson #bond #love #power #victory

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tamsoj · 3 months

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Anne Stevenson, "Letter to Sylvia Plath," from A Mind Apart: Poems of Melancholy, Madness, and Addiction

#anne stevenson #sylvia plath #a mind apart #literature #poetry #lit

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lunamarish · 3 days

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Fare poesia

‘Devi abitare la poesia se vuoi fare poesia’.

E cosa significa ‘abitare’?

Significa portarla come un abito, indossare le parole, sedendo nella luce più netta, nella seta del mattino, nel fodero della notte; un sentire spoglio e frondoso in un’aria che sorprende; familiare… insolita.

E cosa significa ‘fare’?

Essere e diventare il clima mutevole delle parole, il servo della musa a condizioni atroci, intraprendere viaggi sopra voci, evitare la collina dell’ego, il pozzo dell’afflizione, la sirena che sussurra stampare, successo, stampare, successo, successo, successo.

E perché abitare, fare, ereditare poesia?

Oh, è la commedia condivisa della peggiore benedizione; il suono che guida la mano; la parola vitale che scorre da una mente all’altra attraverso le stanze lavate dei sensi; una di quelle stregate, indifendibili, impoetiche croci che pur dobbiamo portare.

Anne Stevenson

#Anne Stevenson #poesia #scrivere #citazione #cos'è la poesia

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ma-pi-ma · 4 months

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La poesia deve cantare o parlare, quasi naturalmente.

Altrimenti diventa noiosa.

Anne Stevenson, The Cortland Review, Novembre 2000

#anne stevenson

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ineedtoreadmorepoetry · 12 days

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Re-reading Jane by Anne Stevenson

To women in contemporary voice and dislocation she is closely invisible, almost an annoyance. Why do we turn to her sampler squares for solace? Nothing she saw was free of snobbery or class. Yet the needlework of those needle eyes... We are pricked to tears by the justice of her violence: Emma on Box Hill, rude to poor Miss Bates, by Mr. Knightley's were she your equal in situation-- but consider how far this is from being the case shamed into compassion, and in shame a grace.

Or wicked Wickham and selfish pretty Willoughby, their vice pure avarice which, displacing love, defiled the honour marriages should be made of. She punished them with very silly wives. Novels of manners? Hymeneal theology! Six little circles of hell, with attendant humours. For what do we live but to make sport for our neighbors And laugh at them in our turn? The philosophy paused at the door of Mr. Bennet's century; The Garden of Eden's still there in the grounds of Pemberley.

The amazing epitaph's 'benevolence of heart' precedes 'the extraordinary endowments of her mind' and would have pleased her, who was not unkind. Dear votary of order, sense, clear art and irresistible fun, please pitch our lives outside self-pity we have wrapped them in and show us how absurd we'd look to you. You knew the mischief poetry could do. Yet when Anne Elliot spoke of its misfortune to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoy it completely, she spoke for you.

#Anne Stevenson #Jane Austen

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goffjames · 3 months

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Spotlight Poetry - Ragwort - A Poem by Anne Stevenson

© Margaret Rebecca Dickinson, Marsh Ragwort, (Date Unstated) Ragwort by Anne Stevenson They won’t let railways alone, those yellow flowers.They’re that remorseless joy of derelictiondarkest banks exhale like vivid breathas bricks divide to let them root between.How every falling place concocts their smile,taking what’s left and making a song of it. Poem Attribution © Anne Stevenson,…

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#Anne Stevenson #Art Music Photography Poetry Quotations #Goff James Art Music Photography Poetry Quotations #goffjamesart #Poem #Poet #Poetry #Ragwort

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martyncrucefix · 7 months

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New podcast discussion on Between a Drowning Man

I’m very pleased to announce that Mark McGuinness’ excellent poetry podcast, A Mouthful of Air, which has recently featured poets such as Mona Arshi, Judy Brown, Rishi Dastidar, Ian Duhig, Mimi Khalvati, Clare Pollard, Tom Sastry, and Denise Saul, has recorded a discussion about my new Salt collection, Between a Drowning Man. Mark’s method is to focus on one particular poem and between us we…

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violettesiren · 4 months

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Fallen more white flags falling. Truce between all and nil.

White feathers plucked free of their wings, white wings without justifying angels.

Still falling steadily, silently— return of the simplified dead.

White is the valency colour, touching, embracing all colour.

Not even the night sky is negative. Turn up your face for its kiss.

Under the whiteness, a blackness readying itself to be greeness.

Gaia, fast asleep in her wedding shroud, warming her genes for resurrection.

Night Snow By Anne Stevenson

#anne stevenson

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