Category Archives: Creative writing

Who are the best love poetry writers currently alive?

I have answered this at Quora.com.

Mr Ondaatje is not necessarily a love poetry writer, but for me, everything he writes is poetry and he is a poet, singing “unknowingly the message and the promise from the lotus-gardens beyond the sunset”.

This is a poem that I love:

Speaking To You

by Michael Ondaatje

Speaking to you
this hour
these days when
I have lost the feather of poetry
and the rains
of separation
surround us tock
tock like Go tablets

Everyone has learned
to move carefully

‘Dancing’ ‘laughing’ ‘bad taste’
is a memory
a tableau behind trees of law

In the midst of love for you
my wife’s suffering
anger in every direction
and the children wise
as tough shrubs
but they are not tough
–so I fear
how anything can grow from this

all the wise blood
poured from little cuts
down into the sink

this hour it is not
your body I want
but your quiet company.

Allowance at Medium

You have allowance
to dissolve me
to crumple my soul
into dark pieces
to break my happiness layer
into two.
One over the rainbow
One washing the new moon
Away…

I put my sweet warm thoughts of you
into a single rose.
I leave my all tears, fears
and tainted dreams
Behind…

© Iulia Halatz

My poem, Allowance, has been published at Blue Insights, one of the Medium publications I write for.

Art – Danny Galieote

“Blue Insights Cultural Prompts — July 2020”

No wasted days, no regrets, just an endless party until the last breath…

medium.com/blueinsight/blue-insights-cultural-prompts-july-2020-b26f92e50eed

As always, I am proud to be a witer for the Medium publications.

Art – Ingo Swann

What is success irrespective of literature definition?

“A person’s success in life can usually be measured by the number of uncomfortable conversations he or she is willing to have.” – Tim Ferriss

“The secret to success is to do the common things uncommonly well.” ― John D. Rockefeller

Art by a very successful painter who paints uncommonly well – Michael Cheval.

Curfew

Curfew
by Paul Eluard

What else could we do, for the doors were guarded,
What else could we do, for they had imprisoned us,
What else could we do, for the streets were forbidden us,
What else could we do, for the town was asleep?
What else could we do, for she hungered and thirsted,
What else could we do, for we were defenceless,
What else could we do, for night had descended,
What else could we do, for we were in love?

Art – Mario Reviglione – Metaphysical Nocturne (Alassio), 1912.

Which is the best website to learn about digital marketing?

I have written and answer at Quora.

I do believe there are many wonderful digital marketing websites, but everything I know about marketing and digital marketing I have got it from Seth Godin: Seth’s Blog

Also I particularly enjoyed his Icarus Deception:

“Author James Elkins writes of the three components necessary for someone to become an artist: seeing, making and the tabula rasa.
First, students need to learn to see. They have to see the world as it is without labels, without knowing the name of what is seen.
Second, they are taught how to make. How to use hands or voice or body to take what they see and reflect it back to the world.
And third, and most difficult, the artist starts with a blank slate. Art must be done for the first time, not repeated, and that first stroke, those first words – this is the source of our fear.”
Seth Godin – The Icarus Deception

“A great story is true. Not necessarily because it’s factual, but because it’s consistent and authentic.” – This has become my guideline in everything I write.

Art – Jennifer Diehl.

Lycidas by John Milton

Lycidas
by John Milton

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forc’d fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear
Compels me to disturb your season due;
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his wat’ry bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.

………………………………………..
SAMUEL PALMER – An Illustration to Milton’s ‘Lycidas’

Writers of the Imperfect Maps

Medium.com has published my “Writers of the Imperfect Maps” in the Blue Insights publication.
https://medium.com/blueinsight/writers-of-the-imperfect-maps-276a2ce16869

The naiads have splurged with roses.
Swirls of scented air hover above their clearings.
Without petals and stars they cannot dwell
beneath the glass shine…
Day dreamers see their unfading beauty
in the sands of the fountains.

Their love is
imprecise
built on a foundation
of unicorn-green grass…

Their skeleton
is composed of myrtle and oleander
and moss-covered lungs
heave along with waters driven
by tide…

Their flesh is irrational atoms
that laugh the blood
and rhythm of life
in the veins
that sing the helplessness blues.
White hymnal doors
flung open
on Midsummer’s Eve
at the harvest of ripe and lofty words
and lady’s bedstraw
they found
in the flicker of buried treasures.

Their words shield
the scent of a tuberose
and shelter
the spoils of the evening.

They sing in the wind
“Leave this war with me!”
It is never too late
nor too soon
to wager
on a tear.

These are no Great Songs of indifference
They are the Great Songs of out-of-time
and out-of-life
that light
this new dominion
which is the old…

29 petals of all the flowers
in the world
line up to write a map
draw sounds and borders
in as many secret alphabets
as breathing proof that

Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.

Words are lamps
they shimmer in the vilest of places.
They make dreams
out of particles and matter.
The words in the
29 secret alphabets
burn for all.

© Iulia Halatz

Lilian Gish, 1929 — photo by Cecil Beaton

What are some poems about meaning (philosophy)?

The World Is Too Much With Us
By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

I have answered this question at Quora.com.

Art – Emil Nolde.