poetry


I don’t talk much about poetry (the theme) anymore, and I’ve always found it difficulty answering questions such as “what is poetry to you?” and “what is your relationship with poetry?”, (not that I get deluges of questions, I certainly do not). Some days ago, I was reading about Albert Tarantola, and I thought, why not view it through the perspective of an inverse problem?
That is the origin of this (quite) simple composition,
thank you for reading,
João-Maria.

Published by

João-Maria

A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

50 thoughts on “poetry”

    1. “We work with the substantial, but the emptiness is what we use.”

      And, in some senses, that is more or less correct, but is becoming less and less correct. Even my poetry (and I’d even say: especially my poetry) is thronged with the scent of re-purpose and re-eclosion.
      It’s even more interesting to think of utilitarian associations, then, because where Lao Tzu sees space being created in pots and houses, space which is then the purpose of their making, I see division, but perhaps the space is the purpose of the pot and division is the method of its making. And thus, we have a theory for poetry as well, in a very similar sense.
      Sorry, Huzaifa, it’s Saturday, I’m prone to… maunder on. Thank you for your kindness; for reading.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Bruce, I’ve been reading you for the past hour, you’ve such a lustre to your writing; a gleam, almost bronzen, warm. It’s fine if you don’t follow me at all, but I will absolutely be on your tail.
      I follow a small few folks out here, and only now am I starting to find the right ones. People that are talented and genial, since God knows how sombrously lonely literature can be.

      Liked by 3 people

      1. Thanks so much João-Maria! I have already read you lovely comment about six times! I think nearly everyone, except a few, are simply trying to sell me a book.

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I don’t have a singular book to sell, Bruce! I’m twenty-four and live in littoral Portugal. I have to drive 40 km for the nearest bookshop, thus, I’d be lucky if I could even buy one, let alone sell it.
        And I’m far too puerile to ask anyone for money. I’m wholly grateful for the kindness, and for the chance to read you. Stay as long as you may, and don’t feel obliged to read my unintelligible paroxysms.

        Liked by 2 people

      3. I too am 40ish km from a bookshop – which is possibly why I read things online and my book-reading glasses are fuzzy and dated. I shall investigate you current home town. I find doing such things to be interesting. I live in Stratford New Zealand next to a volcano (that is currently sleeping!)

        Liked by 2 people

      4. I don’t have my hometown publicly on my blog, only Lisbon, which is where I more-or-less spent a good deal of my life. My hometown is a little bit north of Montejunto, near the rock-pears.
        I envy your location; New Zealand must be such a lavishly beautiful place, and especially North Island.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. The South Island is a lot more spectacular than the North. North Portugal looks mountainous and lovely. The closest I’ve been to Portugal is France.Visiting there now is just a dream!

        Liked by 2 people

      6. I’ve been all over, actually; my parents were never too bounteous, but whatever money they could scratch together, they would take us traveling.
        Oceania is the only continent that I never visited, and I think it wasn’t so much due to pricing, but distance. Those long voyages, with children, are especially laborious, and one can only lucubrate so far until it stops feeling like a vacation. New Zealand is still a dream that I intend to fulfill, however, and places such as Lake Taupo are absolute dreams for me, hence why I see North Island as so magnetic.
        I don’t know much about South Island.

        Liked by 1 person

      7. Montejunto looks like a wonderful place to live. I just spent some time in trying to learn how to pronounce your name, It seems to start with a sound we don’t have in English – so I’ve been practising – not that I’ll need to use it.

        Liked by 2 people

      8. Hahaha; originally, I thought of changing my name so I had some sort of amplitude in the English written world, but I quickly dropped that pretension once I saw how immensely talented others were in a language which, at the end of the very day, isn’t my own, and I will never master completely. I just decided, then, that I might as well use my own name.
        The ão is an exclusive nasal diphthong, which means you would need to use your nose to pronounce to concurrent nasal vowels, which is rare among nearly any language, including Romantic languages close to Portuguese, like Spanish or Italian.
        It’s indeed a hard combo to correctly pronounce for any foreigner, even harder than ãe, which is its sister-diphthong.
        The English equivalent is John-Mary, and even more popular is my French equivalent, whence my name actually derives, Jean-Marie.

        Liked by 1 person

      9. I don’t mind bringing my nose into play when dealing with other people’s names. I dislike my name and like you thought of changing it in the writing world. I have never been good at languages – perhaps it’s because my partner is Romanian and is fluent in 9. I don’t seem to have an ear for it. One of the things (actually two of the things) that I like about your poetry is that you have a greater sensitivity to nuances of English words than a native English speaker might have. So you use words I would never think of. Secondly, I kind of like it when you take (what I think) is a Portuguese word and twist it around somehow that it sounds right in English! Fantastically expressive!

        Liked by 3 people

      10. I’m a bit overfond of words; languages are imperfectible, which makes them distensable, and I like to fiddle with that plasticity. It’s not so much for snobbery or for absurdism, although I’ve been accused of both, and I understand how and why someone would get that idea.
        It means a ton to me that you like my poetry, whatever the reason; it truly does. I’m not very confident in what I do, but I am a hard worker, and I do my absolute best.
        And yes, I do mischievously translate a lot of words from Portuguese into English by typing out “englishised” guesses of said word and usually getting it right. You were the first to ever pick up on that. I’m unmasked, haha!

        Liked by 1 person

      11. Oh, thank you!
        I try to engage as best I can, so the comments are just a bunch of dull back-and-forths.
        You’re welcome to explore as freely as you wish!

        Like

  1. Sometimes
    you meet someone
    who feeds you a new vibe,
    so delicately
    you can barely taste it –
    but the flavour lingers on your heart,
    making you wonder
    whether you should have reached in
    and swum a little in those floating stars.

    So you stand there,
    alone,
    second-guessing yourself…

    wondering whether you should retrace your steps.

    But the trail is cold.

    All you have is the sound of laughter
    from a party you were not expected to attend.

    It mars the silence a little,
    so you drown it out
    with music downloaded fron the streetlights

    You wonder whether to write it, too –
    but that’d be like going to the party.

    — sometimes, the poetry thing kinda feels like that.

    Liked by 5 people

    1. Wow; now I want to challenge everyone to define their poetry by inversion. A casus belli, if you will.

      You’re a wonderful creator, John (my name-bother), I’m so delighted to have you with me.

      Like

  2. Another lovely poem full of contradictions, though I love the way you describe this as your ‘quite’ simple composition. If it’s usually taking me about three goes to get my head around your simple poems you’re going to have to put a health warning on the complicated ones, otherwise the poor commoners such as me will trot away dejected thinking that overnight we’ve suddenly become exceedingly dumb!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I mean simpler in contrast to a whole spring, katabasis and taste of salt, all of which were a lot denser in the way they were constructed, I suppose.
      I assure you that I see you as no commoner, but perhaps it’s not that they are hard to understand, but more that they are… bad? In the sense that they aren’t translated clearly or in clear manners. I promise you that, were I able to write better, I would, but there isn’t a direct parity between understanding a poem and intellect, Paul; poems are not particularly designed to align completely with clear communication or transmission, otherwise, we would be writing prose. I understand Stevens Comedian as the Letter C quite clearly, but I’ve always had trouble understanding Dante, especially Paradiso. This doesn’t mean that I’m smart or dumb, it means only that neither Dante nor Stevens wrote those poems with me in mind, and that, by chance or alignment, my brain ended up understanding the likeness of Stevens better than that of Dante.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I love your explanation, especially the comparison you gave between Stevens and Dante. I am walking away already with a new found spring in my step, thank you sir!

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I can never understand if you’re being sarcastic or not, but I suppose that’s my side of the bargain of communicative difficulties!
        I hope I haven’t offended you in any way, Paul; I genuinely appreciate your work and I promise that I’m doing as best as I can, and see myself above nobody in regards to anything.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I genuinely love your explanation; Stevens is one of my favourite poets, and you are right that being tuned into the wavelength of the poet is no sign of intellectual ability, though intellect would certainly not be a hindrance in understanding your poetry, since you are clearly blessed with the same. I do like to try to understand all poems I read even though, like us all, I am naturally drawn to certain types of poetry. My reason for this is, because like all of us, I am still learning ….

        Liked by 2 people

      4. Oh, that gives me some peace… I suppose they shall become easier to understand, perhaps when I have a sounder architecture to build upon; a more expressive, confident voice. Perhaps with age. I surely hope so.
        Thank you for your patience, and for your kindness, of course. 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

  3. A lot of the time I read your poetry and have no idea what you’re saying, but that’s nothing to do with you – I just don’t get it the first ten times.
    And then I get it.
    Sometimes.
    But do you know what?
    If I never ‘got it’ again, I would still read your poetry because it’s so rich it forces me to concentrate on every single word. Probably no surprise coming from a guy whose biggest problem some days is trying to find two words that rhyme…
    Your Faithful Student,
    John Ormsby

    Liked by 3 people

    1. John,
      I don’t know quite what to say. I sometimes write for myself, and that takes a very different form from how I write here. I have this added responsibility, you know? Walcott said that, if you know what your poem is about before you write it, it’s unlikely to be good. That’s how I write, regardless of what Walcott says. I never quite know what I’m doing, thus, I try to do my best to enrich the confusion; give is bevel and emboss, sheen and stroke, make it preternatural and rich, make it mine and twist it until it’s not, so that I’m sure that, even if it isn’t good, it’s worth the while of being.
      I’m definitely no genius, nor am I particularly enlightened (especially not enough to teach), but I’m incredibly lucky, because I have readers like you. That much is undeniable.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. As a writer and an artist, I get that it is easy to see the flaws. Really, though, your poems are better than you think. Start somewhere, even if it’s small. Let me know if you ever do put together a book … I’ll buy it!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you. I can finally say that I have (1) person interested in buying something I’ve made. This is dreamlike for anyone who wants to author, although, I always thought I’d be published for my prose, never for my poetry.
        I will be sure to inform you if I ever have anything that can be purchased, and I will be sure to make it cheap 😊

        Liked by 1 person

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