Poesi på utrikiska

[Algotezza]

Plågsamma poesiförsök från min kurs i Creative Writing i Malmö denna termin

Sonnet 1
This morning when the sun was backwards setting
the birds could rest in every secret place,
where darkness hid its all-embracing face,
while given chances corresponded getting.

So gently now the golden day was letting
the hours to drift by in patient pace
while ploughs of birds were passing by in grace,
and cruel crawler then his web was netting.

When soon enough the afternoon’s arriving,
the light will change in a mysterious way,
and swollen raindrops will from clouds be diving,

just trying to rebirth the dead dry day.
There’s always some spiritual weather striving
to puts its breath into my inner clay.

Sonnet 2
The Gates of Nothingness are smoothly closing
and vultures circle in the sky above.
Forgotten is from now our Father’s love,
while Heaven’s Devils  soon has quit their dosing.

The sounds of silence God is recomposing,
returning now the Holy Spirit’s dove,
while starving angels start their food to shove.
One could believe they all are vainly posing.

Humanity has acted very badly,
and God has taken back his guiding force.
The human beings cry so very sadly.

Forever shut they’ll stay those heaven doors.
The godforsaken world will cry out madly,
but hardly knowing what initial cause.

Sonnet 3
If ever I had found it kind of funny
to lock my welfare in with stolen keys,
then I would think of getting mindful peace,
and end my looking for that futile money.

There must be other kinds of soothing honey
to bring my haunted soul at mental ease,
so occupied with paying all its fees.
Instead I want my life to be more sunny.

I often think my life is like a riddle,
‘cause I can’t see beyond its shabby trash.
Why can’t I be a busker with his fiddle,

just playing in the streets where cars might crash,
and stand there like a copper in the middle,
directing life to bring symbolic cash?

Sonnet 4
To write a sonnet is a bit like knitting,
where words create a thread when hard I rhyme.
My salary is smaller than a dime.
Much less than for a cardigan that’s fitting.

But just the same I’m often lonely sitting
with my poetic, verbal pantomime,
to get my poor lines ready just in time.
But seldom useful thoughts my brain are hitting.

Well, ofte I do find my poems silly,
but still perhaps they smart enough could sound,
if read distinctly in a voice like chili

with oral seasoning both hot and round,
and with a scent like from that valley lily.
Forgive me! Stronger threads could not be found!

Blank verse
When springtime comes I smile inside my mind,
because the leaves and pretty birds are back.
The grass is promisingly green and bright.
The blackbird’s serenading in the dawn,
and Mr Hedgehog’s sniffing through the night.

The sun is warming up both young and old,
and gloomy days we easily forget,
when chilly winter haunted our house.

While many of us think of joy and light,
allergic people suffer more or less.
What’s hell to one is heaven to another.

Free verse
You never told me that you could be late,
or that you might not come at all
to our secretly planned appointment.

During the whole lunch through
I hoped that you’d turn up
with a smile neatly painted in your face
and with those wet doggy eyes,
like so many times before,
just telling me with an embarrassed smile:
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late!”

But however long I waited,
you never satisfied my longing.
I waited at this café for an eternity or two
and I had two cups of coffee and five cinnamon rolls.
Your lack of braveness is fattening me!

I wrote these words down
to get rid of my growing bitterness,
very much aware of the fact
that you’ll never read them,
because I won’t let you!

But still I’m jaws,
all squeaking jaws!

Haiku 1
Captain and father…
He sails his relationship
to a far harbour.

Haiku 2
Springtime once again…
Wood anemones are blooming
on a rotten stump.

Haiku 3
Time is running out
of time; space is confusing.
Where do we belong?

Haiku 4
Truth is always one
step behind, hidden in the
shadows of lying.

Sonnet 5
When I was cycling through the sleepy valley,
the larks were trilling high up in the sky.
It’s kind of April’s gift to hear doves cry.
But nowhere could I see my kitten Sally.

I thought she’d sneaked into an urban alley,
where cunning rats and mice they live and die,
and where she’d meet some smart home tiger guy,
whose secret name could be jazz cat O’Malley.

I do enjoy when all the birds are singing,
when biking through my hometown like a nerd,
and wearing my grey helmet that’s not swinging,

but Sally in it sometimes puts a bird,
that she has caught, a feline gift she’s bringing,
and nevermore will silenced beak be heard.

Blank verse
If time to time the space was out of place,
the stars would shine where they should not,
and roses would to turnip turn and die,
and once again would Shakespeare tread the earth,
and work as teacher at a writing course,
thus forcing students to that blank verse write.
But nowhere could the pace be out of place,
and seldom we old Will would meet again.

Yet still we find those students writing verse
to pass exam for better and for worse.


Free verse (when listening to a tune by J-M Jarre)
The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

The crises of my secret life
The memory of unseen deaths
The meaning of slowly dying
The tide of my dreams are closer than my breath
underneath my heart

Lost forever but yet not
The perversities of broken stars
The stiffness of an insane moon
The harbor of my longing is vibrating
in its unheard silence

The flowers in my bed
when I woke up in the morning of my anonymous ancestors
told the unwritten truths of a non-existing universe
where my soul is still decomposing
like a whale on the shore
– breathless in the cruel sunshine

The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

will lead me to the fortune
at the end of the rainbow
Haiku
Roses in sunshine
A spider neatly building its
silvery network

Sonnet 6
As time goes by I often calmly wonder,
why I am stuck exactly here and now,
where life is soft, combined with roughest row
– those sunny days and sometimes rain and thunder.

I balance life from peak to deep down under
and never asking why and when and how,
while meditating in my meadows like a cow
on matters that are hidden in the yonder.

When light and darkness meet and strive together,
then life is filled with depth and feels complete.
It’s bitter sweet like honey from the heather,

like dancing in the grass with naked feet,
just being there, despite of social weather,
existing between cold and tropic heat.
---
Sonnet 7
In Springtime when I see the cranes in motion
so high up in the sky a sunny day,
it seems like nature’s answer when I pray.
They symbolize to me the season’s notion.

It shapes in me a light but deep emotion.
To trumpet sounds I full attention pay
and in it summer promises may lay.
To winter minds it’s like a soothing lotion.

Thus from now on I know where things are going:
we are approaching summer neatly fast,
and when the setting sun is gently glowing,

the nightingale will sing, like in the past.
Against new times the winds are promptly blowing,
to summers that eternally will last.




Här är adressen till mitt web-galleri med lite nya bilder:

http://picasaweb.google.se/egevad

Lika bra att ta allt på en gång så ni har att göra ett tag!

Skön helg, alla filosofer!

Någon som har lust att samarbeta med mig och tonsätta någon dikt?

Hälsningar från Algotezza

[LJUSUPPLEVELSE]

...här,du ska få mycket poesi på utrikiska

Mamma jag åt kebab
jag svär den var stark
den var för stark
jag svär joao...
Abbooo vad stark den var...
Jag brände min tunga bre !
Den där jävla kebaben
kommer bränna mitt äschle
när jag skiter den joao ....

Det är riktig poesi på utrikiska.

mvh

[Logos]

Nädå, helt vanlig svennebananrasse-poesi.

[Algotezza]

Nädå, helt vanlig svennebananrasse-poesi.

Ja, det impade inte på undertecknad.

Undertecknad

[Algotezza]

Sedan vi haft seminarium kring våra dikter - i tisdags - fick jag lite idéer om hur jag skulle kunna bearbeta en del av dikterna. Här kommer de senaste versionerna. Härligt få vara med i den kreativa processen på ett hörn, eller hur...?


Cat Killing my Darlings
A Sonnet

When I was cycling through the sleepy valley,
the larks were trilling high up in the sky.
It’s kind of April’s gift to hear doves cry.
But nowhere could I see my old cat Sally.

I thought she’d sneaked into an urban alley,
where cunning rats and mice just live and die,
and where she’d meet some smart home tiger guy,
whose secret name could be jazz cat O’Malley.

I do enjoy when all the birds are singing,
when biking through my hometown like a nerd,
and wearing my grey helmet without giggling.

My Sally sometimes kills a tiny  bird,
and eats in the helmet in my kitchen,
preferring it more shaken than stirred.

The Last Will
Blank verse

If time to time the space was out of place,
the stars would shine where they should not,
and roses would just turn to dust and die,
and once again would Shakespeare tread the earth,
and work as a teacher in a writing course,
thus forcing students to that blank verse write.
But nowhere could the pace be out of place,
and seldom would we meet old Will again.

Yet still we find those students writing verse
to pass exam for better and for worse.

C’et la Vie
Free verse (when listening to a tune by J-M Jarre)

The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

The crises of my laidback life
The memory of unseen deaths
in the doldrums of distant oceans
The meaningless meaning of slowly dying
The tide of my dreams are closer than my breath
underneath my heart

Lost forever but yet not
The perversities of broken stars
The stiffness of an insane moon
My longing is vibrating
in its far harbor of unheard sirens

The flowers in my bed
when waking up in the morning of my anonymous ancestors
told the unwritten truths of a non-existent universe
where my soul is still decomposing
like a whale on the shore
in the cruel sunshine

The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

will lead me to the precious place
where nightingales nest and secretly sing.
---

West bishes,

Algotezza

[Sun Ra]

Dreaming, dreaming
Here I am dreaming again
Dreaming, dreaming
I'm in a daydream again
Sleeping, sleeping
It's time for me to wake up
For no matter how i dream
It always makes me cry
If you live in fabels
Then you'll know what I mean
Fot that is a world
Where things aren't what they seem
Dreaming, dreaming
Here I am dreaming again

-------------------------------------------------------------

Christ said: "you must hate your life in order to live forever" (John 12:25)
I hate mysefl
Most of all I hate,
I hate me

---------------------------------------------------------------------

TOMORROW NEVER COMES
COMES TOMORROW NEVER
NEVER COMES TOMORROW
TOMORROW COMES NEVER
NEVER TOMORROW COMES
COMES NEVER TOMORROW

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
When you meet a man
Tou meet a scheme of words
Patterns of concept
A concepted being
Whose very birth conception is called.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The elasticity of words
The phonetic-dimension of words
The multi-self of words
Is energy for thought - If it is a reality
The ide that words
Can fom themselves into the impossible
Is through the words

The fate of humanity is determined
By the words they so approve
Beacouse they reap what they so
Even if it is the fruit of their lies

[LJUSUPPLEVELSE]

En dag kommer ni , kritiker , att få se ...
Min poesi kommer att få leva vidare och återges av kommande generationer , medan annan poesi kommer att falla i glömska...
Jag kommer att bli odödlig ...
Jag är gudabegåvad , min poesi är djupare än annan poesi och förtjänar respekt och ett särskilt status....

[Algotezza]

Cat Killing my Darlings
A Sonnet

When I was cycling through the sleepy valley,
the larks were trilling high up in the sky.
It’s kind of April’s gift to hear doves cry.
But nowhere could I see my old cat Sally.

I thought she’d sneaked into an urban alley,
where cunning rats and mice just live and die,
and where she’d meet some smart home tiger guy,
whose secret name could be jazz cat O’Malley.

I do enjoy when all the birds are singing,
when biking through my hometown like a nerd,
and wearing my grey helmet without giggling.

My Sally sometimes kills a tiny bird,
and eats in the helmet in my kitchen,
preferring it more shaken, never stirred.

The Last Will
Blank verse

If time to time the space was out of place,
the stars would shine where they should not,
and roses would just turn to dust and die,
and once again would Shakespeare tread the earth,
and work as a teacher in a writing course,
thus forcing students to that blank verse write.
But nowhere could the pace be out of place,
and seldom would we meet old Will again.

Yet still we find those students writing verse
to pass exam for better and for worse.


C’et la Vie
Free verse (when listening to a tune by J-M Jarre)

The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

The crises of my laidback life
The memory of unseen deaths
in the doldrums of distant oceans
The meaningless meaning of slowly dying
The tide of my dreams are closer than my breath
underneath my heart

Lost forever but yet not
The perversities of broken stars
The stiffness of an insane moon
My longing is vibrating
in its far harbor of unheard sirens

The flowers in my bed
when waking up in the morning of my anonymous ancestors
told the unwritten truths of a non-existent universe
where my soul is still decomposing
like a whale on the shore
in the cruel sunshine

The manipulating sun
The cracking moon
The forgotten stars
The skies of my mind stranger than marmalade
wilder than honey

will lead me to the precious place
where nightingales nest and secretly sing.

Haiku

Roses in sunshine
A spider neatly building its
silvery network
...

Hilsen fra Algotezza