Tag Archives: poem

never ending.

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A Never-Ending Poem Grows in the Netherlands
De Letters van Utrecht is carved into the city streets and will continue indefinitely.

Upon first glance, Oudegracht looks like any other brick-lined street weaving through Utrecht, Netherlands. Flanked on one side by a canal and storefronts on the other, the thoroughfare bustles with pedestrians and cyclists in the early morning hours as they go about their business—but what sits underfoot is what makes this street truly unique.

Since 2012, a team of poets has been creating a never-ending poem, which is embedded into the cobblestones lining the street.

Called De Letters van Utrecht, the “social sculpture” is constantly evolving and continues to expand every Saturday afternoon when one of 22 stone carvers from a local guild chisels a single letter into the stone. As the weeks, months, and years pass by, the poem evolves, continuing indefinitely so long as the city and community members support it. So far, seven poets have contributed to the project, each one writing prose until it’s time to hand the poem off to his or her successor.

The poem thus far, roughly translated in English, reads:
“You have to begin somewhere to give the past its place, the present matters ever less. The further you are, the better. Continue now,
leave your footprints. Forget the flash, in which you may exist, the world is your map. If there was a time when you where another: it went by.
You are the other already. You are, as you know, the center of this story. This is eternity. It lasts. It has the time. Become one with your story and revel. Tell.
Tell us who you are with every step. In our story we vanish inevitably, only you remain in the long run. You and these letters hewn from stone. As the letters on our grave.
The cracks in the cathedral’s tower. Raised to heaven as an index finger, to identify the guilty and demand more time. So that we can walk straight again as humans along the canal.Those staring at their feet. Look up! See Utrecht’s churches stand out. Raise your hands, beg with the towers for this privilege: to be, to be now. The weather is good.
Continue to stare. Life is witness to your gaze to the horizon. Your footsteps connect the past with written letters.…”

“Each poet is limited to 52 letters a year, since we put a new letter out every week,” Dick Sijtsma, one of the project’s founders, tells Smithsonian.com. “As long as we have poets and stone masons, the poem will continue to grow.”                              A stone mason carves Letter 946 as part of De Letters van Utrecht. 

In order for a poet to qualify for participation, he or she must have published at least a book of poetry or two, and even if they make the cut, their proposed verses must be approved by the guild. Last year, Utrecht became the 25th Unesco City of Literature thanks to its rich literary history, so De Letters van Utrecht is able to select from a deep pool of local candidates. Ruben van Gogh, one of the founders, was the poet responsible for writing the poem’s first lines, which were then backdated to January 1, 2000 to help fill out the poem.“Otherwise, it would have taken years for people to notice that something was going on,” van Gogh tells Smithsonian.com. “Plus, 2000 was a good year to back date it to.”

So far the poem stretches the length of a single city block, but the guild of poets has mapped out its future path, which will one day wind through the city just like Utrecht’s elaborate canal system. Until then, the project has grown in popularity and continues to garner attention from locals and visitors alike. Van Gogh says it’s not uncommon to see a crowd of people gather each Saturday to witness the carving and to attempt to guess the direction the verse will take.

“Once when I was visiting on a Saturday, the assigned stone carver didn’t show up, but then another stone carver just happened to ride by on his bicycle,” van Gogh recalls. “He’s the senior stone carver who trained the others, and happened to have his tools with him. He told me that he can tell which guild member did each carving based on its appearance.”

“Often the letters receive sponsors who can then carve a special inscription into the side of the stone. ”To help fund the project, people can sponsor a single stone and have the stonemason carve a special inscription on the side of it. Sponsorships often celebrate important milestones, such as birthdays, anniversaries and marriages.“Even punctuation like colons and periods count towards a weekly carving,” van Gogh says. “People are really excited to sponsor the period at the end of a sentence.”Sijtsma agrees adding, “One time we had someone who was coming to the end of his career, and he wanted to end that phase of his life in a symbolic way.”

So the big question: What’s up next for the poem? Sijtsma and van Gogh say that they’re keeping their lips sealed.“What the future brings is a surprise to all of us,” Sijtsma says.

World Poetry Day,

held annually on March 21, is dedicated to poetry worldwide.

an initiative of the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)


“words are the clothes thoughts wear.”
― samuel beckett

 

credits: smithsonian.com, jennifer nalewicki, dick sijtsma, city of utrecht, netherlands

 

february arrives.

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“february, a form
 pale-vestured, wildly fair,


one of the north wind’s daughters,
with icicles in her hair.


~Edgar Fawcett, “The Masque of Months,” -1878


 

image credits: teodora paintings
, magic onions

all hallows’ eve.

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I spot the hills 
With yellow balls in autumn. 
I light the prairie cornfields 
Orange and tawny gold clusters 
And I am called pumpkins. 
On the last of October 
When dusk is fallen 
Children join hands 
And circle round me 
Singing ghost songs 
And love to the harvest moon; 
I am a jack-o’-lantern 
With terrible teeth 
And the children know 
I am fooling.

-"theme in yellow" -carl sandburg 1878-1967




--
image credit: google images (vintage)

end of the light.

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tunnel through nature

light to dark to light again

 leads me to beauty. 

“poetry is the tunnel at the end of the light.”
-j. patrick lewis

 

northside, ann arbor, michigan, usa

smile of light.

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“oh, the summer night, has a smile of light,

and she sits on a sapphire throne.”

-bryan procter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

huron river, ann arbor, michigan, usa

poetry is of so subtle a spirit, that in the pouring out of one language into another it will evaporate. -john denham

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water

Everything on the earth bristled,

the bramble pricked

and the green thread nibbled away,

the petal fell,

falling until the only flower was the falling itself.

Water is another matter,

has no direction but its own bright grace,

runs through all imaginable colors,

takes limpid lessons from stone,

and in those functionings plays out

the unrealized ambitions of the foam.

Pablo Neruda

 

killarney, ireland

poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. – robert frost

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when a kinder

in my class

asked me

to show her

how to spell

these words

it was

because

she was

writing

a

birthday card

for her

mother

and

there

could  be

no finer gift

than

this

beautiful

poem of love

she created.

miss you little cowboy

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our perfect day 

set out on an adventure

shared by

kindred spirits

 –

up to the top 

of the  

empire state building

 – 

both had always wanted to 

never had –

found our chance

saw it and looked

in amazement

at the world around us

– 

next stop

a favorite park

playing in the autumn sun

– 

 sat by the water

talked about life

 all the important things

– 

scooby doo, spiderman, 

stuffed monkeys, 

people we love,

holidays, colors,

magic, fairies

– 

calm and peaceful

took coins

kissed them and made wishes

– 

tossed them in

watched them sink

as ripples moved

away from them

 –

he asked me

what is your wish?

i shared

– 

breaking the code of secrecy 

that goes with all wishes

just this once

for this very special reason

– 

my wish –

that you never feel sick again

(it’s been 2 long years)

and that we will share so many, many

perfect days

together

just like this one

i asked him

what is your wish?

he shared

breaking the rules

just this once

– 

his wish

so powerful

i sat

just listening

– 

tumbling

from the lips of

this 5 year old boy

who has endured 

so much more 

than most adults

in their entire lifetime

ever will

– 

old soul trapped in a child’s body

his wish

was 

the most amazing response

my wish 

he said

in that most innocent of voices

is that all of YOUR wishes come true

 we sat

in silence

looking at each other

both understanding

this would be our last perfect day together

we knew

these were our gifts

to each other

that we would always keep

gifts given

in their purest form

each only

for the other

we shared a moment

now held within us forever

on this,

our perfect day.

dedicated to my nephew h, who passed away soon after, (november 1, 2006), on a perfect autumn day.