Life &Poetry Entropy | 02 Feb 2012
Existential Meditation
The cherished Polish poet and Nobel Prize winner Wisława Szymborska passed away on Wednesday evening at her home in Kraków at the age of 89
“In Szymborska’s poetry, we divide ourselves not into body and surviving work but into body and unfinished whisper, poetry is no more than an unfinished whisper, laughter that swiftly falls silent.” — Czesław Miłosz,
There’s no life
that couldn’t be immortal
if only for a moment.
Speech, don’t hold it against me that I borrow grandiloquent words .. And then undertake the difficulty of making them seem light.
Nothingness changed radically also for me.
It really turned itself inside out.
Where have I found myself -
From top to toe among the planets,
Not even remembering what it was like not to be.
on 02 Feb 2012 at 10:37 am 1.Anisha said …
I like this: Speech, don’t hold it against me that I borrow grandiloquent words .. And then undertake the difficulty of making them seem light.
on 02 Feb 2012 at 11:58 am 2.Marie said …
“There’s no life
that couldn’t be immortal
if only for a moment.”
She is immortal with all her words she left us to remember her
and for us to much appreciate and value such a great woman and
writer
Rest in peace Mrs Szymborska
on 02 Feb 2012 at 2:51 pm 3.Nimesh Dadia said …
These are Poignant thoughts of news that Wislawa Symborzka is no more. How beautifully pithily has Czelaw described this loss ” Unfinished Whispers ”
“In Szymborska’s poetry, we divide ourselves not into body and surviving work but into body and unfinished whisper, poetry is no more than an unfinished whisper, laughter that swiftly falls silent.” — Czesław Miłosz
Wislawa’s poems are a wry allegory of her being , of her thoughts ,her feelings, her mundane routines, her inward odyssey.
A few words from Few Words on the Soul
“We have a soul at times.
No one’s got it non-stop,
for keeps.”
I am at loss for words and find my words along with my thoughts are conniving against my feelings .
Hence i use the aphorism by Carl Sandburg on poetry
Carl Sandburg: ‘Poetry is a diary kept by a sea creature who lives on land and wishes he could fly.’
on 03 Feb 2012 at 11:55 am 4.Parul Doshi said …
What a loss…Szymborska’s poems created a whole new world of dreams, imaginations and mythical spellbound vastness where my being simply used to flourish under her poesies and it was like her dreams were mine too…
Just remembered Neruda’s meditations on Death which i cant resist sharing here.
I do not know, I am ignorant, I hardly see
but it seems to me that death’s song has the colour of wet violets,
violets well used to the earth,
since the face of death is green,
and the gaze of death green
with the etched moisture of a violet’s leaf
and its grave colour of exasperated winter………….
on 26 Feb 2012 at 3:06 am 5.Michele said …
Nothingness changed radically also for me.
It really turned itself inside out.
Where have I found myself -
From top to toe among the planets,
Not even remembering what it was like not to be.
What one can say after this?