The bulk of my poetry isn’t found in this blog, but in my longer stylised compositions containing the array of symbology and my core ultra-romantic elements. Avenues in France is one of such, perhaps the first of it’s kind published here, and part of my series of monadic poems subdivided in various structures.
Tell me if you like these types of heavy poetry, I may publish more (I was planning on publishing surrealism poetry next, like Yangtze or Gran Java)
Apologies for the verses in Portuguese, this started out as a poem in my native language, and then morphed into english, so I just scattered around the verses.
The translations are as such:
“Que se ame a eternidade na beleza de sua verdade…” – May eternity be loved in the beauty of it’s truth.
“Que no traço do Tempo, não existem estátuas sorridentes…” – That in the trace of Time, there are no smiling statues.
“Até as redes do momento já se apertam nos braços…” – Even the nets of the moment already tighten our arms.
A bit of an abandoned project, I had hopes of transforming a portuguese poem I had into an English form without translation. Due to structure constrains, I wasn’t able to fully converse it, it was supposed to have eight more stanzas (to match the portuguese version with 20 stanzas).
Turns out the English language is generally more laconic, and you can convey more using less, in turn breaking the general spine of the poem. This is what was left, hopefully someone can look at it and see something worthwhile.
I haven’t been publishing much lately. Besides being generally busy, my poetic production lately has seemed a bit twisted. As I struggle inside, usually, so does my poetry, and it warps more and more the worse I get.
Regardless, I created this blog for exactly this purpose, to “document” how my work seems to change, evolve, sometimes for the worst. Here is a composition that shows it pretty well:
A very alien poem to me, mostly because I don’t understand it, nor do I get why I wrote it.
I believe that there isn’t a single poet in history that hasn’t composed about melancholy, it’s a feeling so natural to artists in general. Or even people, it feels very humane to miss. Of course, being the uncreative Johnny I take such joy in being, I had to compose my own take on melancholy with my specific “drawn out” style I’ve been recently nurturing. Anyways, I hope you see something new in this!