Your face is map enough for me ,
Your gaze,your smile,your frown,your glee.
And if I want to know the rest
The shape your posture‘s made is best
For showing what your life is now.
A look,a gesture all this show.
Till who you are is then disclosed
And I am in your arms enrobed.
Love vanishes when analysed,
And thinking too
by Love’s despised’
Choose the means to fit the end
And then I’ll be whom you intend
You must see the magical colors of Janet’s work.. it will bring happiness to you
During the middle part of my career, from 1986 til 1999, I painted large murals for corporate entities. They weren’t always paintings I was excited about, but they paid the bills and kept my tools honed, which in turn gave me freedom to paint what I wanted to paint.
Something I learned, which has stood me in good stead, is that if you change one small area of a huge mural….the whole image changes.
A relatively small change might not seem obvious to the viewer, but the fact is that every brush stroke added or deleted changes the rhythm and energy of a painting.
And so it is with all of life.
Rachel Carson in her book Silent Spring, first published in 1962, recognised the early signs of relatively small changes within the environment. …
View original post 121 more words
Woll worth looking at this
I have mentioned that I very much liked the writer Kenneth Gergen and especially his book,” The saturated society”
http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/553/1198e”
I think it’s beautifully written and explains the bad side of post modernism but also how differently it could be used.He got a very good review on the Washington Post but later got a terrible one in the NYT.In an interview he told how this affected him badly until the man who wrote the review died ten years later,I’ll put a link in here later.http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=SweMLEe6TpgC&pg=PA294&lpg=PA294&dq=kenneth+gergen+the+saturated+self++washington+post+review&source=bl&ots=_lKF4I_lVi&sig=VEbgQl1ZpIwcLgfw3S5M5sI9__U&hl=en&sa=X&ei=JJ_VUtfLEeaP7AaviYHwCA&ved=0CGwQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q=kenneth%20gergen%20the%20saturated%20self%20%20washington%20post%20review&f=false.
!He used to wake up at night with thoughts of what he’s like to do to this person.This shows how even someone of high quality can be wounded easily/
Most people who read English novels have heard of Virginia Woolf. She was highly acclaimed yet had breakdowns whilst awaiting reviews .Eventually she committed suicide during WW2.Her husband was Jewish and she was afraid of what would happen if the Germans invaded Britain.
But her mental health was fragile after losing her mother and favourite older sister in her teens and also possibly being sexually assaulted by her half brother.Despite al this she had much happiness and is one of the most highly acclaimed women writers of the 20th century…not much good to her of course
Sylvia Plath a great poet a generation after Woolf also committed suicide and later became known as one of the best poets of our time
http://www.neatorama.com/2008/03/18/writers-who-suffered-from-the-sylvia-plath-effect/#!scilW
Would you like to be a tormented genius and enter the literary canon or just be an ordinary,moderately happy person? Most of us are not so gifted in any case.
Some of us believe that others with more gifts,more money,more winning personalities are much happier,but it’s not true.Many geniuses are troubled.
On the other hand being troubled by itself will not make you a genius,alas.Everybody is troubled at times.Sometimes a poet may use it
You play on your clarinet;
I play on my cello.
Your music is poignant;
My music is mellow.
I can’t read your music;
You can’t play from mine.
Our music must be transposed,
But will not be the same.
I have longer fingers.
You have bigger hands.
You play some from memories
which I don’t understand.
I play from my own history,
You compose your own.
You have tragic feelings,
which I have never known.
Would you play my music?
Then it must be transposed;
but we can’t transpose our feelings,
Unless we are shown
how to draw out symbols
From the dark Unknown.
I love the music that you play
and I know you do love mine.
But can we play together
with a meaningful design?
Transposing keys and feelings
Is an arduous,lengthy task;
Much easier to play falsely
and never,never ask.
I can’t share your lifetime hurts
and you cannot share mine.
Is it easier to share happiness
and in love to entwine?
Oh,play your poignant music for me
with your meditative art.
I shall listen with my ears
and listen with my heart.
And then I shall respond to you.
My instrument is here.
I am playing quite new music.
I feel you drawing near.
Suddenly we are moved to play
A completely new design.
I seem to feel your feelings
And I can hear that you feel mine.
Together we seem to make a work
Of torment and release.
This music is so tragic,
Yet its design has brought me peace.
Play on,play on,for now I know
I begin to understand,
without more words or gestures
than those from your curved hands
My body’s becoming a nuisance
My joints have decided to flare.
If you think that flares are about trousers,
I guess you’ve never been here.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday
He said there is nothing to help.
he never looked into my eyes at all..
His gaze was aimed right at my scalp.
I bought a style mag and I read it.
I didn’t find much help in there
Except for a piece entitled
“They say I’ll be younger next year.”
For age is defined by our gadgets
Don’t wear a watch on your wrist…
You just take a peek at your smartphone
Unless that’s an update you missed…
You need to buy a new tablet
An android or kindle fire 2…
And get a portable laptop…
Carry it so it’s in view.
Walk into Starbucks for coffee
Connect to their wi fi in haste.
Sit down and open your netbook
You must practise copy and paste.
And do not wear any smart clothing
For sportswear’s the new type of cool.
I doubt if Leibnitz would have worn it,
but it might have appealed to George Boole.
I crawl up the road for a paper…
Alongside a few slugs and snails…
Fortunately they do not tell me
“You’re only as old as you feel”
I see more fighting in Gaza
And in Israel rockets still fall.
In Syria thousands are murdered
and in Russia new cold thoughts have formed.
So why do I think of my dresses
And wonder if I’m going bald?
My heart has gone numb like an ice cube…
Otherwise I would have bawled.
We weep when we are new born babies
For babies are dependent on mum.
I weep now over the newspapers..
I think Armageddon has come
How my heart sings 