Ignition
By Jeremy on Thursday, May 31 2007, 10:40 - General - Permalink
Thinkers, dramatists and narrators bring together unconnected ideas, unexpected actions, and characters with apparently conflicting destinies. Yet in our imagination Europe is overflowing with theories (this one for example), actions (some not only unexpected but dramatic in their desperation) and conflicting characters. We lack emotion. Well, it’s not that we lack it – it exists -, but that it is decaffeinated, diluted in the tide of the local interests of each corner of
the continent. Someone needs to rescue it and return it to the shore of humanity, and this someone, the one who is able to uncover the unsuspected relationships between stray emotions, is the poet.
“What do today’s Andalusian poets feel?” exclaimed Rafael Alberti (close friend of Louis Aragon and Picasso) in the dark night of European dictatorships. What do today’s European poets feel in this solicitor’s Europe? Do they exist? Yes. And they are ready to reveal to us the mosaic of emotions that distinguishes the Europeans from the Chinese, the Africans, the settlers of the New World, and of course the Indians - not in their nature, as the pieces of the mosaic of poetry are universal, but in their projection and scale. They have not disappeared, “because the poem is never-ending and becomes one with the sum of creation and will never reach the final line and varies from one person to the next”, as Jorge Luís Borges, the Argentinean writer of Anglo-Spanish origin wrote.
“Poetry is system of shining signals…” asserted the globe-trotter León Felipe. “The verse that came before mine is a torch which was carried in the hand of the previous poet as he sought me out, and the verse that follows me is a light that another is igniting in the dense shadows of the night, observing my signals.”
With this blog, Cafebabel.com and its contributors are setting out to design a bed of torches that will allow us to access our poets, make contact with them and inhabit their inner worlds, so that we can continue to sketch out the map of the inner worlds of each and every one of us. They seek to put a particular emphasis on the work of young poets, those who have grown up with Europe as a constant presence, those who want to project their work across the continent. They aim to become a key point of reference in the meeting of the cutting-edge and the old, the immediate and the unattainable, in a radical aesthetic journey which will lead us to the “loss of discovery” that constitutes the emotional concert of the heart.
All are invited to this banquet of emotion! Let hearts beat - let the feast begin.
Comments
========================
The Swastika on the Stone
========================
They were cleaning the cemetry
In which they had their camp,
Working to better where they lived,
On life to leave their stamp.
One boy was observed drawing
Who was working alone
All were aghast at the marks he made:
The Swastika on the Stone!
On being asked why the mark he made
On the gravestone of a Jew
Did he not know his people
Had suffered like and with them too?
He said that know this not he did
As a distaining look he cast
On those who him did chastise
And told him of the past.
It was just graffitti
“Harmless“ it he did call
Just a scratching done for fun
Saw Skins write it on a wall.
The tragedy this scene displays
Is that the history of a nation
Is being forgotton and destroyed
Through lack of education.
Lack of education from the state
And from parents too, I fear
A fate forgotton by those who most should remember
Those for whom the world forgets to shed a tear.
A testement to a people broken:
Apart their world is blown,
Even still, after all theis time:
The swastika on the stone.
========================
Naughty Naughty Nantes
========================
Im on holiday in the supposedy sedate Breton end of France... you know... old Catholic and all that. Yes, there are churches... and a lot more besides...
Naughty naughty Nantes
You sure up the ante!
I ask for a hotel,
And the information man said "well
Here... is a selection"
And I picked and asked for direction
Of the cheper one, maybe far
He said - "its right where you are,
Just across ze street"
And down "a leetle beeet"
So to the Hotel Burgogne
Im pleased how well Ive got on
Luxurios within
For 45€ I check in
To the basement far below
That its there I doubt few know
And so I settle down
For a kip before I explore town.
On arising I am amazed
I think I must be a little dazed
Theres a culture shop all right
But many more of the culture of the night
Sex shops and strip clubs abound
In the sleaziest area Ive found
How can a poor catholic boy win...
So much temptation to sin...
Naughty naughty nantes
You've really upped the ante!
=======================
Haiku For Iraq
=======================
Once reigned beauty
Then a king and then despot
Today fear rules
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Where do we normally post to?
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"the pieces of the mosaic of poetry are universal"
I couldn't agree more - in a sense, poetry could be described as a language beyond language, for the message and messages of poetry transcend linguistic borders, not to mention the frontiers of geography, culture or politics.
Many thanks for the quotation from León Felipe. It is nice to think that each generation of poets relays poetic light to the next. This does not necessarily mean that each poetry is more 'developed' than the one coming before it - I am not quite sure how much poetry can be placed in a Darwinian context. But this is just one of many interpretations. Will the 21st century see the emergence of an international poet furthering the planetary spirit of Walt Whitman and Pablo Neruda? I hope to be alive to find out.
Thank you Café Babel for a great poetry column in over five languages.
Antoine Cassar
http://muzajk.info