Eggplant.place

1y

#OTD in 1918.

Wilfred Owen is killed in action aged 25, at the Sambre–Oise Canal, with only five of his poems published. News of his death reaches his parents in Shrewsbury a week later on Armistice Day.

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/517

#books #literature #poetry

9 ⁄ 14 More details Portrait of Wilfred Owen, found in a collection of his poems from 1920.

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1y

Endre Ady was born #OTD in 1877.

Some of his notable poetry collections include "Új versek" (New Poems, 1906), "A Holnap" (Tomorrow, 1908), and "A halottak élén" (At the Head of the Dead, 1918).

Books by Endre Ady at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/39489

#books #literature #poetry

Endre Ady, hungarian writer. Aladár Székely - Scan from the original work.

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250d

“Open Me Carefully.” Emily Dickinson’s Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson

"A Look Inside the Poet’s Personal Life and the Making of Her Mythical Reclusiveness"

https://lithub.com/open-me-carefully-emily-dickinsons-intimate-letters-to-susan-huntington-dickinson/

Books by Dickinson at PG:

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/996

#books #literature #poetry

Emily Dickinson seated by a table with a tablecloth and two books stacked on top.

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1y

The City is of Night; perchance of Death…

James “B.V.” Thomson (1834–1882) – poet, journalist, translator, anarchist, atheist – was born #OTD, 23 Nov, in Port Glasgow. Best known for his long poem THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT, he influenced TS Eliot & is seen as a progenitor of Modernism

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https://psychogeographicreview.com/the-city-of-dreadful-night/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #Victorian #19thCentury #modernism #TSEliot

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146d

Beneath a Mona Lisa smile you’re splayed
for pinning. I recall the callipered
shadow of Vitruvian Man, from caverns
and hollowed trees to this small page…

—Morag Smith, “Renaissance Bat”
from DON’T. EVEN. ASK. TOO. HOT. New Writing Scotland 42 (ASL, 2024)

Today, 17 April, is Bat Appreciation Day 🦇

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws42/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #bats #BatAppreciationDay

Morag Smith
RENAISSANCE BAT

(From a watercolour, circa 1790, Asian Lesser False
Vampire)

Beneath a Mona Lisa smile you’re splayed
for pinning. I recall the callipered
shadow of Vitruvian Man, from caverns
and hollowed trees to this small page.
Notice the artist’s worship of your thumb-claws
– they hold up sails of wings that can make
the air water for swimming in. Deep time
echoes in those downy caves of ears.
We drew pyramids and squares, you listened,
carried the pox for fifty million years,
ate our locust plagues and held within
your matchstick bones what’s near forgotten:
that God’s an insectivorous vertebrate
thirty-four grammes in weight.

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243d

Lourd on my hert as winter lies
The state that Scotland’s in the day.
Spring to the North has aye come slow
But noo dour winter’s like to stay
For guid,
And no’ for guid!

—Hugh MacDiarmid, “Lourd on My Hert”
published in SELECTED POETRY (New Directions, 1993)

https://www.ndbooks.com/book/selected-poetry/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #HughMacDiarmid #Scots #Scotslanguage #winter

Lourd on My Hert
by Hugh MacDiarmid

Lourd on my hert as winter lies
The state that Scotland’s in the day.
Spring to the North has aye come slow
But noo dour winter’s like to stay
For guid,
And no’ for guid!

O wae’s me on the weary days
When it is scarce grey licht at noon;
It maun be a’ the stupid folk
Diffusin’ their dullness roon and roon
Like soot
That keeps the sunlicht oot.

Nae wonder if I think I see
A lichter shadow than the neist
I’m fain to cry: “The dawn, the dawn!
I see it brakin’ in the East.”
But ah
– It’s juist mair snaw!

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146d

In dusk, from in among the walnut tree
and its bearing down upon the damaskina,
although we never see the bat unwrap
like a sticky sweet from the paper…

—WN Herbert, “The Bat”
from OMNESIA (Bloodaxe, 2013)

https://www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poems/poem/103-22731_THE-BAT

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #bats #BatAppreciationDay

THE BAT
W. N. Herbert

In dusk, from in among the walnut tree
and its bearing down upon the damaskina,
although we never see the bat unwrap
like a sticky sweet from the paper

of suddenly frictionless voiceless wings,
it begins to bi-, to trilocate, to be
anywhere at once in air's old film, wavering
with half-seen insects – it's in the field,

the garden, even underneath the canopy
of vineleaves that, by day, shades the little patio.
We watch the sky a dropping sun's turned gray
after an hour of lemon, mango, watermelon –

though this still lets some light be gleaned
through a wing like a sallow, puffed-out cheek,
a torch shone through a bloodless hand,
but gone in the second you understand

as though showing how exactly we must leave
each day – and do – a gathering of senses, sights
too small or intricate to count as insight,
too brief to form what we'd call belief.

The bat, that master of departures, is lost
to night, forgetting as it misses each leaf
and every branch: a figure of omnesia,
the way the world desires to be the past.

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1y

‘Something or Other’

Patience in a nutshell:
I have none
And everything’s electric
Sizzling with ambition
Lost in seconds passing
Drags away my soul
Each breath a tiny whisper
Heaving life into the night
Scattered dreams a haunting
Train-wreck crashing through
My desiccated brainwaves
Superheated with emojis
Vapourware a hunted bunyip
Seeking hard the pathway forward
Shards of glass all flaming hot,
Yet beyond that hell a fountain

#poem #poetry #poetrycommunity

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1y

When you were people
We could have loved you,
Found out your names
And brought you presents…

—“Poem for Innocent Victims of War” by AC Jacobs (1937–1994) – born #OTD, 30 May

Published in NAMELESS COUNTRY: Selected Poems (Carcanet, 2018)

A 🎂 🧵

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https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781784106751/nameless-country/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #Jewish #diaspora #20thcentury #warpoetry

Poem for Innocent Victims of War
A. C. Jacobs

You did not die for me
Or love or desperation.
No-one chipped your names
On plaques on peaceful blocks of stone.
You are just the useless dead
Who mock our daily sin of passion,
Climb through our heads in cold, slow silence.

When you were people
We could have loved you,
Found out your names
And brought you presents.
We could have walked around with your response.

Or even if you chose to die
We might have understood your longing
And written down your utmost fear.

Now, though, you have got beyond our feelings,
And we can never almost follow
To learn your last shared and perfect secret.

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171d

Hear my prayer, O non-existent God,
accept these cries into thy nothingness,
thou, who never leaves poor men unblessed
by your false comfort…

—Don Paterson, “Atheist Prayer”
from THE ARCTIC (Faber, 2023)

Today, March 23, is Atheist Day

https://www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571338191-the-arctic/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #atheism #AtheistDay

Atheist Prayer
Don Paterson

after Miguel de Unamuno

Hear my prayer, O non-existent God,
accept these cries into thy nothingness,
thou, who never leaves poor men unblessed
by your false comfort. Your perfect fraud
was all I ever yearned for, my old friend:
when you withdraw, my memory is assailed
by every silly song and fairy tale
my mother read to sweeten the day’s end.

How great you are, my absent god! So rare
and boundless, an idea less than air:
O look how very thin the world has grown
in trying to meet you. For you and you alone
I suffer, Lord; for you, I die and die –
since were you to exist … Then so might I.

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1y

"I saw you - and from that day
I see only you in the world."

Johan Henric Kellgren, born #OTD in 1751, was a Swedish poet and critic.

Kellgren began as a tutor and later worked as a journalist and editor for Stockholms Posten, where he gained a reputation as a sharp and influential critic. Notable works include "Mina Löjen", which blends satire with lyrical beauty, and "Den nya skapelsen", which highlights themes of renewal & enlightenment.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johan_Henric_Kellgren

#books #poetry #literature

19th century portrait of Kellgren, engraved by Evald Hansen.

Kellgren is portrayed as a man of intellectual bearing, with sharp, refined features. His face, clean-shaven and composed, reflects both intelligence and sensitivity. His hair, styled neatly and appropriate to the late 18th-century or early 19th-century fashion, might be powdered or combed back.

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242d

The laverock rises owe blin waas
At ane wi the great North wun
At the heid o hecht…

—“The Heid o Hecht” by Duncan Glen, born #OTD, 11 Jan, 1933. Starting out as an apprentice printer, he became a poet, designer, editor, publisher, & academic

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https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scotish #literature #poem #poetry #20thcentury #Scots #Scotslanguage

Duncan Glen
The Heid o Hecht

The laverock rises owe blin waas
At ane wi the great North wun
At the heid o hecht. Here The Stuarts huntit the reid deer
And I look doun at that sma grey toun
Wi its fremmit Freench-like Palace
Whaur aince kings walkt wi thochts
O the saft wuns o the Sooth;

Saft wuns that cam lown north
Bringin the bricht bird o simmer
That has but a glisk o that cauld yin
Wha moves baith gress and pine. There
By toom waas whaur aince kings sat
Wi braw sudroun tapestries hidin
The grey stane that cam straucht
Frae the quarries o this hill.

Stanes and laverock risin heich
In the cauld wun that kens nae
Swallow, gouk, or that simmer swarm
O flees. And the great stanes are bare.
Nae claith or burnin wud that can
Gie and tak frae that cauld hunter oot
On the hill wi the laverock wha passes
Owre aw at the heid o hecht.

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1y

In December 1914.

Wilhelm Apollinaris de Kostrowitzky, who writes under the pen name "Guillaume Apollinaire", enlists in the French Army to fight in World War I and becomes a French citizen after an August attempt at enlistment is rejected.

Apollinaire is considered one of the foremost poets of the early 20th century, as well as one of the most impassioned defenders of Cubism and a forefather of Surrealism.

Books by Apollinaire at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/6075

#books #literature #poetry

Photograph of Guillaume Apollinaire in spring 1916 after a shrapnel wound to his temple.

Apollinaire, wearing a military uniform, might appear seated or standing in a composed but slightly weary posture. His head is likely bandaged due to the shrapnel wound he sustained while serving as a soldier. The bandages emphasize the physical scars of war while also symbolizing the poet's enduring spirit amidst adversity.

His expression might convey a mix of stoicism and introspection, with his intense eyes reflecting his poetic sensibility and his experiences on the battlefield.

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Du coton dans les oreilles

[première page]

Tant d'explosifs sur le point vif !
Ecris un mot si tu l'oses ?
Les points d'impact dans mon âme toujours en guerre
Ton troupeau féroce crache le feu
Ô Mégaphone
[écriteau]

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55569

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1y

"O Day! he cannot die
When thou so fair art shining!
O Sun, in such a glorious sky,
So tranquilly declining;..."

#OTD in 1844.

Emily Brontë writes the poem "A Death-Scene". It was published in 1846 in a book collecting poetry by Brontë and her siblings.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Death-Scene

Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1019

#books #literature #poetry

Portrait of Emily Jane Brontë by Patrick Branwell Brontë.

Emily is dressed in plain, dark Victorian attire, with a high-collared dress that suggests her preference for simplicity over adornment. The muted color palette of the portrait adds to the somber yet striking impression she gives. Over time, this painting has become iconic, capturing the aura of mystery that surrounds Emily Brontë’s life and work. Branwell’s artistic style, while somewhat unpolished, imbues the portrait with an emotional depth that reflects his intimate knowledge of his sister’s character.

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246d

Lost Trails

My second book of haiku / senryu, completing the collection of verses written up to the end of 2024, is available on Amazon (paperback and e-reader) and Rakuten Kobo (e-reader)

UK links here:

https://tinyurl.com/Lost-Trails-AmazonUK

https://tinyurl.com/Lost-Trails-Kobo

#indie #poems #poetry #PoetryCommunity #haiku #senryu

Front cover of Lost Trails, Simon J Ashcroft, showing an image of a pathway into woodland, with sunlit foliage in the distance seen through tree trunks

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1y

#OTD in 1901.

The first Nobel Prize in Literature is awarded, to French poet Sully Prudhomme.

He devoted the bulk of the money he received to the creation of a poetry prize awarded by the Société des gens de lettres. He also founded, in 1902, the Société des poètes français with Jose-Maria de Heredia and Leon Dierx.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sully_Prudhomme

Books by Sully Prudhomme at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/7695

#books #literature #poetry

Sully-Prudhomme, René François Armand Prudhomme, known as (1839 - 1907), french writer.

In such portraits, he wears a suit with a high-collared shirt and tie, consistent with the fashion of the late 1800s. His facial features, including a prominent mustache and neatly groomed hair, contribute to the dignified and intellectual aura often associated with prominent writers of his time.

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Autograph manuscript of “Science et poésie” published in the Nouvelle Revue internationale in 1898, then in Épaves in 1908.

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1y

Ich bin wieder da und habe euch etwas Schönes mitgebracht.
Die Schriftstellerin und Dichterin @MarjoleinRotsteeg
aus den Niederlanden und ich arbeiten zusammen an einem gemeinsamen Projekt - die Kombination von ihren Haikus mit meinen Gemälden. Die ersten Werke sind online!
Wer also auf der Suche nach einzigartigen (Weihnachts-) Karten und Geschenken für besondere Freunde und Familienmitglieder ist… - schaut mal rein!

#art #haiku #poetry #cats #caturday #catsofmastodon #christmas #BuyIntoArt

Collage von drei Haiku-Kunstwerken - Mouse escaped, schwarze Katze im grünen Gras, A natural born model on the catwalk, scharze Katze und Big aspirations süße Tabby-katze - Haikus von Dichterin Marjolein Rotsteeg, Acryl- und Pastellgemälde von Karen Kaspar.

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1y

#OTD in 1899.

Robert Browning's book Asolando; Fancies and facts is published on the same day he dies at Ca' Rezzonico in Venice. He is buried in Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey.

His magnum opus, The Ring and the Book (1868–1869), is a 12-volume epic poem based on a real-life Italian murder trial. He is particularly celebrated for his dramatic monologues, which reveal the inner workings of his characters' minds.

Asolando
https://archive.org/details/asolandofanciesf00browiala

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/146

#books #poetry

Portrait by Herbert Rose Barraud, c. 1888.

A portrait of Robert Browning, the renowned Victorian poet, depicts him as a dignified and thoughtful figure, reflective of his literary prowess. Browning’s distinctive features include a broad forehead, expressive eyes, and a well-groomed beard, which frames his face with an air of intellectual sophistication.

Browning’s expression is typically captured as introspective or gently engaging, embodying the dual qualities of a deep thinker and an accessible conversationalist.

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241d

Pàdraig MacAoidh: In Conversation at The Linen Hall, Belfast

Writer Róise Ní Bhaoill talks to Pàdraig MacAoidh about his work; the literary, linguistic and cultural connections between Scotland and the island of Ireland, to which he has a strong connection; and about what he hopes to achieve in his role as Scotland’s national poet.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bA9Cu4E38fM

#Scottish #literature #Gaidhlig #Gaelic #Ireland #poetry

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239d

The burn was big wi’ spate,
An’ there cam’ tum’lin doon
Tapsalteerie the half o’ a gate,
Wi’ an auld fish-hake an’ a great muckle skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!

—David Rorie, “The Lum Hat Wantin’ the Croon”

As things start to thaw in the north-east, mind how ye go…

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #song #20thcentury #humour #Scots #Scotslanguage

The Lum Hat Wantin’ the Croon
Dr David Rorie

The burn was big wi’ spate,
An’ there cam’ tum’lin doon
Tapsalteerie the half o’ a gate,
Wi’ an auld fish-hake an’ a great muckle skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!

The auld wife stude on the bank
As they gaed swirlin’ roun’,
She took a gude look an’ syne says she:
“There’s food an’ there’s firin’ gaun to the sea,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!”

Sae she gruppit the branch o’ a saugh,
An’ she kickit aff ane o’ her shoon,
An’ she stuck oot her fit – but it caught in the gate,
An’ awa’ she went wi’ the great muckle skate,
An’ the lum hat wantin’ the croon!

She floatit fu’ mony a mile,
Past cottage an’ village an’ toon,
She’d an awfu’ time astride o’ the gate,
Though it seemed to gree fine wi’ the great muckle skate,
An’ the lum hat wantin’ the croon!

A fisher was walkin’ the deck,
By the licht o’ his pipe an’ the mune,
When he sees an auld body astride o’ a gate,
Come bobbin’ alang in the waves wi’ a skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!

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“There’s a man overboard!” cries he,
“Ye leear!” says she, “I’ll droon!
A man on a boord! It’s a wife on a gate,
It’s auld Mistress Mackintosh here wi’ a skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!”

Was she nippit to death at the Pole?
Has India bakit her broon?
I canna tell that, but whatever her fate,
I’ll wager ye’ll find it was shared by a skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ the croon!

There’s a moral attached to my sang,
On greed ye should aye gie a froon,
When ye think o’ the wife that was lost for a gate,
An auld fish-hake an’ a great muckle skate,
An’ a lum hat wantin’ a croon!

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241d

Oidhche Challain: No admission without a rhyme

Happy Old New Year!

After the 1750 Calendar Act changed the date of New Year’s Day, some Gaels – to make sure they didn’t miss it – chose to celebrate both. Dr Dòmhnall Uilleam Stiùbhart discusses the once ubiquitous Highland tradition of Oidhche Challain:

https://www.whfp.com/2020/01/08/oidhche-challain-no-admission-without-a-rhyme/

#Scottish #literature #Gaidhlig #Gaelic #poetry #tradition #NewYear #Highlands #Hebrides #OldNewYear