Starting The Week with A Heart Back Intact and Plenty of Soulful Imaginings

Hearing my audio poems; sometimes he’s a very fluffy bunny, and sometimes a slightly violent teddybear.


Peeko’s Moon and a Pulitzer Prize Winning Author, Truly Wise Book of Poems

Over the weekend, Peeko sat by the book The Moon Before Morning like ’Read me more of these poems; it’s my moon!’ He is a Scorpio. 😊🌊🌘Here’s a quick capture although he only chooses to be on camera on select occasions and didn’t want the reading filmed.

He plays plenty of cat games too and decides when he wants to attend a class at his boarding school, and may also walk out of the classroom during an unsatisfactory reading.


From my review of The Moon Before Morning by W.S. Merwin: …Because these poems are so united and with great simplicity of style, they could’ve swept past the reader, but with appreciative attention, their message is clear, containing all the complexities inherent already and the kind of meaning to know in an instant, and also to ponder…Merwin’s confident, mostly carefree, compassionate humor makes certain parts stand out, and the use of interesting proper nouns, like names or less common particulars make a very appealing contrast to poems well-united…

My Heart Found Breaking To Be Put Back Intact This Morning

Found this book at a Cafe with old texts lining the back wall: I am not nearly up to being able to read a dictionary.

I planned to return to my Arabic language studies today but I wanted to be sure I could find a copy or two of May Ziadeh’s books: poetry, fiction, novels, philosophy, as I am learning the language to read her work in her native language when I couldn’t find her books in print and thought my Kindle copies were broken.

While my print book of hers may not be a novel she wrote but a biography of a colleague of hers, Malak Hifni Nasif, my Kindle copies are actually not broken, I discovered I just needed to tap the left side of the screen instead of the right, for right to left reading.

In the morning I found this quote by May as I’d been looking last night for her books and community, and although I am not Arabic myself I was glad to find this and also glad there have been nicely mysterious ‘art with Italy and Italian people’ recommendations found recently as I’d been planning to cover freely found creative work from many parts of the world on the blog, including my personal ancestry, and so more to come. Here’s a speech May made:

A speech by Miss Mi Zayda, delivered at the Syrian Youth Catholic Club on Thursday evening, February 25, 1926.

We are in our intelligence, one of the fastest quoted peoples and the most masterful of imitation. Unfortunately, we are one of the least for the ammunition of the past and what we must keep to form our new personality. We are one of the least jealous of our noble wealth and those who care less about our beautiful Arabic language. We have excuses that I know and understand, but I don’t know that that is enough.

We listen to the conversations of our groups, men and women, and they speak the languages of foreigners as their children, but they abuse Arabic and boast that they ignore it. We remind our men, so they call on Edmon, Fernand, and Henry, and we must search for the light of the lamp to find those who are called intact, lover, and companion. And the girls are called Hortans, Rose, Blanche, Nona, Nina, etc. And not the one who claims Layla, Najla, Salma, my name, Mia and Hinda. Between us, the fried, the stagnant, the conspirator, and the painter, etc, and not between us, the arrogant and the bright.

Be Oriental above all!

Learn what languages you want, but enhance your language first! Learn the arts and science of peoples and learn about their discoveries and knowledge, but remember the previous knowledge, arts and science! Chant the chants of the West, draw his drawings, play his instruments, but don’t forget the flute, the oud, the Abba, the admonition, and the Megana! They were martyred by the West’s thinkers, poetry, writers, wisdom, and chanted by Hugo and Musa’s heir, but do not ignore, for example, Diwan Khalil Mataran.

The day the westerner says I am the son of the west, say I am the son of the sun, my language is Arabic, and my eastern nationality. And if there is a thumb in this nationality, disintegration, and turmoil, I am proud to put one voice in order to promote and consolidate it. I am proud to be an episode for the sake of its love, I am proud to be a tongue that repeats the vocabulary of my language, and expands it. A life.

Say that I am a new generation and I want a new, free and noble nationality, despite the pains, oppositions and hardships!”

*

I’d had the idea to read books she’s read too and there’s another name there I could locate (Note: Poet named is spelled Khalil Matran). As for the project in My Blog Show I mentioned, I’d gotten into touch with a woman who I’d found translated a poem by May in an online poetry journal and has been working awhile on a full, creative English translation of May’s first book Fleurs de Reve. I felt the book would be best first introduced into print by someone with Middle Eastern background as she has, and I was glad to find out directly that it would be most effective for the project and approval if one translation comes out first, as her proposal had been submitted. And she happened to just move to Brooklyn, New York, to the neighborhood I used to like best to visit when I’d lived there.

Last Night’s Dream

I dreamed a chubby middle-aged blonde-haired man with a dramatic side part who I didn’t recognize was standing behind a desk with a world map behind him and told me he was from Michigan. So I named some cities there I’d heard of to him or tried to, when he cut me off, irritated and said,

’I don’t know towns, I know trees.’

And then he started to name one when the dream ended; I might’ve cut him off myself finding him rude and maybe went onto a different dream…

New Reads

Last night, I started a new book! Just one page read. And it’s a random- library-lift off the shelf, from the pile on my side table I’d photoed last week; it is a novel, The Blue Guitar by John Banville, book and author unknown before to me, and it opens with a delightfully crazy first person narrator.

I found another new novel when I donated two books from my pile to give away that are set up in my very pleasing closet. I haven’t read it yet and that will be saved for another time.

Most important task planned for the day: Plan a forty five minute yoga session and the second, begin an Arabic lesson, along with everyday life tasks: meal planning and food shopping.

*

Yesterday: ‘Auntie Jade’

For A Poet Born A Hundred Years Before My Birthday

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