The document discusses poetry, bird watching, and being patient and observant. It notes that the best poets wait for words to come to them, rather than forcing ideas. Like bird watchers watching timid wings, poets relax and allow their spirit to move them. The slow movement seems to convey more. To watch rare birds, one must go to quiet, remote places near rivers or shores, where women slowly turn and reveal their inner darkness and light.
The document discusses poetry, bird watching, and being patient and observant. It notes that the best poets wait for words to come to them, rather than forcing ideas. Like bird watchers watching timid wings, poets relax and allow their spirit to move them. The slow movement seems to convey more. To watch rare birds, one must go to quiet, remote places near rivers or shores, where women slowly turn and reveal their inner darkness and light.
The document discusses poetry, bird watching, and being patient and observant. It notes that the best poets wait for words to come to them, rather than forcing ideas. Like bird watchers watching timid wings, poets relax and allow their spirit to move them. The slow movement seems to convey more. To watch rare birds, one must go to quiet, remote places near rivers or shores, where women slowly turn and reveal their inner darkness and light.
The document discusses poetry, bird watching, and being patient and observant. It notes that the best poets wait for words to come to them, rather than forcing ideas. Like bird watchers watching timid wings, poets relax and allow their spirit to move them. The slow movement seems to convey more. To watch rare birds, one must go to quiet, remote places near rivers or shores, where women slowly turn and reveal their inner darkness and light.
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Poet, Lover, Birdwatcher
Dr. Suresh Kurapati
23.11.2022 Poetry What is poetry? Do you write poems? • Bird watching Let us think … Poet, Lover, Birdwatcher
To force the pace and never to be still
Is not the way of those who study birds Or women. The best poets wait for words. The hunt is not an exercise of will But patient love relaxing on a hill To note the movement of a timid wing; Until the one who knows that she is loved No longer waits but risks surrendering - In this the poet finds his moral proved Who never spoke before his spirit moved. The slow movement seems, somehow, to say much more. To watch the rarer birds, you have to go Along deserted lanes and where the rivers flow In silence near the source, or by a shore Remote and thorny like the heart's dark floor. And there the women slowly turn around, Not only flesh and bone but myths of light With darkness at the core, and sense is found But poets lost in crooked, restless flight, The deaf can hear, the blind recover sight. Comparison • In Act Five, Scene One of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Theseus discusses (with some disdain) the concept of imagination and fantasy: The Lunatic, the Lover, and the Poet
• Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold: That is, the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth The Lunatic, the Lover, and the Poet
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold: That is, the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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