Monday, October 24, 2011
Herit-I (Inherited)
Herit-i
Herit-i
Ain’t-i
Apart-i Of
This Majest-i Tree
Evolving From-i
Famil-i,
Herit-i
Geno-i
Diverit-i
After-i,
Sought-i,
One Millent-i
From-i
Did-i
Find-i
Represtent-i
This Vine-i
Of Herit-i
Include-i
Of Reve-i
(revealed)
Running Deep-i
Was Astound-i
Find-i So man-i,
Great Invent-i,
Talent-i ,Well
Ground-i, To Mov-i, Indirect-i My
Herit-I
The French Translation
Herit-i
Herit-i
n'est pas - I
Apart-i
de ce Majest-i Tree
Evolving De-je
Famil-i,
Herit-i
Geno-i
Diverit-i
Après-je,
Cherché-je,
un Trouver-je
Represtent-i
de Millent-i
De-je
-je que
cette Vigne-je
de Herit-i
Incluent-je
de courir
de Reve-i (indiqué ) Profond-je
était Étonnent-je
Trouvent-je ainsi l'homme-je,
grand Inventent-je,
Talent-je, la Terre-je
bonne, aux Mouvements-je, Indirects-je mon
Herit-I
Herit-i
Ain’t-i
Apart-i Of
This Majest-i Tree
Evolving From-i
Famil-i,
Herit-i
Geno-i
Diverit-i
After-i,
Sought-i,
One Millent-i
From-i
Did-i
Find-i
Represtent-i
This Vine-i
Of Herit-i
Include-i
Of Reve-i
(revealed)
Running Deep-i
Was Astound-i
Find-i So man-i,
Great Invent-i,
Talent-i ,Well
Ground-i, To Mov-i, Indirect-i My
Herit-I
The French Translation
Herit-i
Herit-i
n'est pas - I
Apart-i
de ce Majest-i Tree
Evolving De-je
Famil-i,
Herit-i
Geno-i
Diverit-i
Après-je,
Cherché-je,
un Trouver-je
Represtent-i
de Millent-i
De-je
-je que
cette Vigne-je
de Herit-i
Incluent-je
de courir
de Reve-i (indiqué ) Profond-je
était Étonnent-je
Trouvent-je ainsi l'homme-je,
grand Inventent-je,
Talent-je, la Terre-je
bonne, aux Mouvements-je, Indirects-je mon
Herit-I
Étoiles de mer ( Star Fish)
Étoiles de mer ( Star Fish)
Étapes de la marée lavez les rivages dedans des vagues
de l'ondulation la plus profonde. Le centre d'être, la volonté devenante, comparez les chansons de
l'amour, refroidissement des rayons de la brume chaude d'été ondulation. Coquilles de la fin
profonde les bruits dans la prochaine mesure, 20.000 de marche ligues sous la mer. Un jour à
réveiller comparent la perle à l'huître par a muscle énorme dont ouvre la bouche le profond "je suis
un océan noir, saut et au loin, jaillissant et gonflant je soutiens la marée laisser des nuits de la
terreur et de la crainte Je me lève dans un point du jour qui est wondrously élévation de l'espace
libre I apportant les cadeaux qui mes les ancêtres ont donné...Je Me lève Toujours " Jocelyn Shaw
Étapes de la marée lavez les rivages dedans des vagues
de l'ondulation la plus profonde. Le centre d'être, la volonté devenante, comparez les chansons de
l'amour, refroidissement des rayons de la brume chaude d'été ondulation. Coquilles de la fin
profonde les bruits dans la prochaine mesure, 20.000 de marche ligues sous la mer. Un jour à
réveiller comparent la perle à l'huître par a muscle énorme dont ouvre la bouche le profond "je suis
un océan noir, saut et au loin, jaillissant et gonflant je soutiens la marée laisser des nuits de la
terreur et de la crainte Je me lève dans un point du jour qui est wondrously élévation de l'espace
libre I apportant les cadeaux qui mes les ancêtres ont donné...Je Me lève Toujours " Jocelyn Shaw
New Translated Poems:Ombre (Shadow) , Le pair que (Peer),Indigène d'un autre monde (Native of Another World)
Ombre
L'ombre quand le ciel clôture la fin de schéma de nuit la verrière des colorants de jour de la surface de jour
et cassent le silence sur des lèvres et des couvercles sachant toujours pour venir les gouttes de pluie cascadant sur le carreau et
les joues augmentées par magmas et pour vider les vases souillés tenant des bouquets du feu un miroir des ombres
une fois en bas du hall
Jocelyn Shaw
Shadow
when the sky closes the night drawing close the canopy of day
pigments of day surface and break the silence on lips and lids
knowing still to come the raindrops cascading on pane and
puddles raised cheeks and
empty stained vases holding bouquets of fire
a mirror of the shadows
once down the hall
Le pair que (Peer)
la selle s'est penchée le ventilla
de maison de grès a accroché
deux du point deux en travers des constellations
géométriques bleues cachées, attendant le départ du soleil,
se fanant dans l'extrémité d'un autre jour
seulement le commencement pour la nuit
d'Orion apporte les événements du jour et au delà
de deux de deux
nuit et
Peer
saddle stooped brownstone
ventilla hung
two of two cross stitch of blue
geometric constellations hidden, awaiting the sun’s departure,
fading into another day’s end
only the beginning for Orion
Night brings the events of the day and beyond
two of two
night and day
Native Of Another World
Evening shade slays the dial closer away from pillars of time though they
ring loudly, gems of the dial slowly hide in the dimming light, cotton rays the step and chimes with
the weight of gold, jade, turquoise royals charming as they perfume and glaze embodying the
precious, bold air and breathe of majestic, pyramids column her beauty into the shadows away
from pillars embracing time again, haunted, bestilling as the air submerging into me one last look
as if it were of white desert gold twirling in the dark still air, the essence and smell of silk, steps
ago, depart my soul neigh till time unravels, in the dimming light cotton falls, beauty holding as the
stone pillars of time stack higher and higher meeting the air above, halo my step, breathe your air
and beat with my heart, haunted, buds of the flower perch atop steps shadows no longer secret the
maps the pathway breathes dust of white gold from the pot of black noire, I inhale until the veil
covers me with stars of Taurus, the chiming grows louder charioting the beating heart to its destiny,
neigh my soul depart and hold eternally
Jocelyn Shaw
Indigène d'un autre monde (Native of Another World)
L'indigène d'une autre nuance de soirée du monde massacre le cadran plus étroit loin des piliers du temps bien qu'ils
sonnent fort, gemmes du cadran se cachent lentement dans la lumière obscurcissante, rayons de coton l'étape et les carillons avec
le poids d'or, de jade, de royals de turquoise charmant pendant qu'ils parfument et glacent incarner
le précieux, d'air audacieux et respirent de majestueux, colonne de pyramides sa beauté dans les ombres loin
des piliers embrassant le temps encore, hanté, bestilling comme air submergeant dans moi un dernier regard
comme si il étaient de l'or blanc de désert tournoyant dans l'obscurité aèrent toujours, l'essence et l'odeur de la soie, il y a
étapes, partent mon âme hennissent jusqu'au temps se démêle, dans le coton léger obscurcissant tombe, possession de beauté pendant que
les piliers en pierre du temps empilent une réunion plus élevée et plus élevée l'air ci-dessus, halo mon étape, respire votre air
et le battement avec mon coeur, hanté, bourgeons de la perche de fleur placé sur des étapes n'ombrage plus le secret
les cartes que la voie respire la poussière de l'or blanc du pot de noire noir, j'inhale jusqu'à ce que le voile
me couvre de tienne le premier rôle du Taureau, sonner se développe plus fort charioting le coeur battant à son destin,
hennit mon âme partent et tiennent éternellement
Jocelyn Shaw
L'ombre quand le ciel clôture la fin de schéma de nuit la verrière des colorants de jour de la surface de jour
et cassent le silence sur des lèvres et des couvercles sachant toujours pour venir les gouttes de pluie cascadant sur le carreau et
les joues augmentées par magmas et pour vider les vases souillés tenant des bouquets du feu un miroir des ombres
une fois en bas du hall
Jocelyn Shaw
Shadow
when the sky closes the night drawing close the canopy of day
pigments of day surface and break the silence on lips and lids
knowing still to come the raindrops cascading on pane and
puddles raised cheeks and
empty stained vases holding bouquets of fire
a mirror of the shadows
once down the hall
Le pair que (Peer)
la selle s'est penchée le ventilla
de maison de grès a accroché
deux du point deux en travers des constellations
géométriques bleues cachées, attendant le départ du soleil,
se fanant dans l'extrémité d'un autre jour
seulement le commencement pour la nuit
d'Orion apporte les événements du jour et au delà
de deux de deux
nuit et
Peer
saddle stooped brownstone
ventilla hung
two of two cross stitch of blue
geometric constellations hidden, awaiting the sun’s departure,
fading into another day’s end
only the beginning for Orion
Night brings the events of the day and beyond
two of two
night and day
Native Of Another World
Evening shade slays the dial closer away from pillars of time though they
ring loudly, gems of the dial slowly hide in the dimming light, cotton rays the step and chimes with
the weight of gold, jade, turquoise royals charming as they perfume and glaze embodying the
precious, bold air and breathe of majestic, pyramids column her beauty into the shadows away
from pillars embracing time again, haunted, bestilling as the air submerging into me one last look
as if it were of white desert gold twirling in the dark still air, the essence and smell of silk, steps
ago, depart my soul neigh till time unravels, in the dimming light cotton falls, beauty holding as the
stone pillars of time stack higher and higher meeting the air above, halo my step, breathe your air
and beat with my heart, haunted, buds of the flower perch atop steps shadows no longer secret the
maps the pathway breathes dust of white gold from the pot of black noire, I inhale until the veil
covers me with stars of Taurus, the chiming grows louder charioting the beating heart to its destiny,
neigh my soul depart and hold eternally
Jocelyn Shaw
Indigène d'un autre monde (Native of Another World)
L'indigène d'une autre nuance de soirée du monde massacre le cadran plus étroit loin des piliers du temps bien qu'ils
sonnent fort, gemmes du cadran se cachent lentement dans la lumière obscurcissante, rayons de coton l'étape et les carillons avec
le poids d'or, de jade, de royals de turquoise charmant pendant qu'ils parfument et glacent incarner
le précieux, d'air audacieux et respirent de majestueux, colonne de pyramides sa beauté dans les ombres loin
des piliers embrassant le temps encore, hanté, bestilling comme air submergeant dans moi un dernier regard
comme si il étaient de l'or blanc de désert tournoyant dans l'obscurité aèrent toujours, l'essence et l'odeur de la soie, il y a
étapes, partent mon âme hennissent jusqu'au temps se démêle, dans le coton léger obscurcissant tombe, possession de beauté pendant que
les piliers en pierre du temps empilent une réunion plus élevée et plus élevée l'air ci-dessus, halo mon étape, respire votre air
et le battement avec mon coeur, hanté, bourgeons de la perche de fleur placé sur des étapes n'ombrage plus le secret
les cartes que la voie respire la poussière de l'or blanc du pot de noire noir, j'inhale jusqu'à ce que le voile
me couvre de tienne le premier rôle du Taureau, sonner se développe plus fort charioting le coeur battant à son destin,
hennit mon âme partent et tiennent éternellement
Jocelyn Shaw
Friday, October 21, 2011
Le Secret Admirent, L'exclusivité de Français (French Edition) [Kindle Edition]
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005X69ZY8
Le Secret Admirent, L'exclusivité de Français (French Edition) [Kindle Edition]
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Cookie Tree by Jocelyn Shaw -Older Editions (Link)
http://books.google.com/books?id=MKpkLn5VEoMC&lpg=PP1&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q&f=false
Thursday, October 6, 2011
How To Write A Love Poem
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
23
Poetry occupies a cultural space in Contemporary American Society somewhere between Tap Dancing and Ventriloquism. People are certainly aware that poetry exists, but this awareness comes upon them only vaguely and in passing moments. During commercials, mostly, which feature corporate poetry. When people think of a poet, perhaps they imagine the finger-snapping beret-wearing beatnik. Or the slammy mike-wielding poet-ranter. Both proud poetic traditions. But most people who write poetry are people just like yourself. Scruffy, broken wordpals. In the age of Twitter, casual word-shaping may be at its all-time high worldwide. As we attempt to fit all the meaning and emotion we can into a few short lines, no doubt Maya Angelou and Walt Whitman and Bashō are looking down from heaven and smiling. (I know Maya Angelou isn’t dead. She just lives in heaven.)
Love poetry has, of course, been with us since the beginning of time. Lame pick-up lines were passé even in Mesozoic times; we diminish ourselves with cheap dating gimmickry. And who would want to woo anyone who could be gotten so cheaply anyway? It’s the chase that's the fun—and the poem is the map you use! To get to Someone’s Soul! (Excited trumpets!)
When is the right time in a relationship to present someone with a poem? A good question. The line between creepy and romantic is ever shifting. Some people might like a poem written about them at first, and then later come to find it creepy and taser you. Others might, upon first reading, feel creeped out and then later come to love the poem you wrote. You never know. Love makes us put ourselves out there in crazy ways; it's a roller coaster except there are no safety restraints. You could find yourself floating or smashed on the boardwalk like a heel-crushed hotdog. That’s the fun of it! It starts as a funny feeling in the stomach and then quickly goes on to flood the brain. Soon we're constantly thinking about them, wondering what they look like without pants on, trying to remember their schedule at the yoga place. Poets actually know more about longing than they do about love. Poets fall in love with other people’s wives, people who don’t love them back. They're human, in other words; and humans weren't built for happiness. They were built for dissatisfaction and yearning.
So, what’s your story? For whom do you yearn? Could be your parole officer. Or the guy you hired to kill your ex. We generally are attracted to complication: people who it might be impossible to pursue. As the great John Wieners wrote, “The poem does not lie to us. We lie under its law.” I quote that a lot, because it’s the most important thing a poem can do: communicate energy and Capital T Truth to the reader. In this case to someone you think is pretty special. So make your Truth sound pretty good.
http://www.theawl.com/2011/09/how-to-write-a-love-poem
How To Write A Love Poem
Poetry occupies a cultural space in Contemporary American Society somewhere between Tap Dancing and Ventriloquism. People are certainly aware that poetry exists, but this awareness comes upon them only vaguely and in passing moments. During commercials, mostly, which feature corporate poetry. When people think of a poet, perhaps they imagine the finger-snapping beret-wearing beatnik. Or the slammy mike-wielding poet-ranter. Both proud poetic traditions. But most people who write poetry are people just like yourself. Scruffy, broken wordpals. In the age of Twitter, casual word-shaping may be at its all-time high worldwide. As we attempt to fit all the meaning and emotion we can into a few short lines, no doubt Maya Angelou and Walt Whitman and Bashō are looking down from heaven and smiling. (I know Maya Angelou isn’t dead. She just lives in heaven.)Love poetry has, of course, been with us since the beginning of time. Lame pick-up lines were passé even in Mesozoic times; we diminish ourselves with cheap dating gimmickry. And who would want to woo anyone who could be gotten so cheaply anyway? It’s the chase that's the fun—and the poem is the map you use! To get to Someone’s Soul! (Excited trumpets!)
When is the right time in a relationship to present someone with a poem? A good question. The line between creepy and romantic is ever shifting. Some people might like a poem written about them at first, and then later come to find it creepy and taser you. Others might, upon first reading, feel creeped out and then later come to love the poem you wrote. You never know. Love makes us put ourselves out there in crazy ways; it's a roller coaster except there are no safety restraints. You could find yourself floating or smashed on the boardwalk like a heel-crushed hotdog. That’s the fun of it! It starts as a funny feeling in the stomach and then quickly goes on to flood the brain. Soon we're constantly thinking about them, wondering what they look like without pants on, trying to remember their schedule at the yoga place. Poets actually know more about longing than they do about love. Poets fall in love with other people’s wives, people who don’t love them back. They're human, in other words; and humans weren't built for happiness. They were built for dissatisfaction and yearning.
So, what’s your story? For whom do you yearn? Could be your parole officer. Or the guy you hired to kill your ex. We generally are attracted to complication: people who it might be impossible to pursue. As the great John Wieners wrote, “The poem does not lie to us. We lie under its law.” I quote that a lot, because it’s the most important thing a poem can do: communicate energy and Capital T Truth to the reader. In this case to someone you think is pretty special. So make your Truth sound pretty good.
http://www.theawl.com/2011/09/how-to-write-a-love-poem
Where we're going? Arts & Culture Abroad!
Art Times http://www.arttimesjournal.com/Travel_and_Culture/travel_Culture.htm
Poets & Writers http://www.pw.org/about-us/contact_us
Arts & Letters Daily http://www.aldaily.com/
Poets & Writers http://www.pw.org/about-us/contact_us
Arts & Letters Daily http://www.aldaily.com/
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