Meeting Benches World art in all forms

FLY ABOVE No true seeker asks guidance from a lost. A wise questions not a madman’s wanderlust! Science is like a mine, your mind is the miner. It takes you to the jewels, finer and finer! For exquisite stones, the rocks are to shove. For real knowledge you must fly above! (Parvin Etesami) http://www.amazon.com/Once-Dewdrop-Etesami-Bibliotheca-Literature/dp/1568590164

YOUR SHOULDERS Your shoulders are sheltering proud rocks. In their slant crawl, the lightly shower of my locks! Your shoulders are the atrium to a majestic tower. At its gate, dance the cheerful chain of my hair! Your shoulders glow, under the golden storm of sunshine, beneath the silver rain of sweat. Your shoulder are to my supplicant eyes a …

EMPTY GARDEN Your pillow howls, I howl. You’re gone, so is your black hair, were you here I’d rest my head on your shoulder. I know your heart beating fast, your pasted-on wings racing with birds, once again you’ve burnt down my lushest forest, left me bereft of you, your absence a knife cuttıng velvet, bloodless. Your pillow weeps, I …

AN EARLY WINTER LETTER Lovely leaves have all been shed, from the mountain ahead of me. Longing for the empty mountain, white snow might fall upon the river. Before the snow falls, I would love to see you. (Kim Yong-taek) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Insaeng-Kim-Yong-taek-sanmunjip/dp/8985599402

FILLING IN THE BLANKS Heaven, you see, is blank, so blank, such a vast blank, I wonder what it takes to fill it. It reminds me of Death, and the way it is registered on a clan’s genealogy. Each entry requires a person to give up his life. On a spring afternoon, my father suddenly passed away, filling a generation’s …

FADED You were the shadow to my light, did you feel us another start, you fade away. Afraid our aim is out of sight wanna see us. Alive where are you now, where are you now, where are you now. Was it all in my fantasy, where are you now, were you only imaginary. Where are you now, Atlantis, under …

WINDOW OF AN EYE From the window of your eye today I can see the sky. You are a cheerful blue. You, from the window of your eye, lean out toward me, and now, are about to drop. You, in the depth of the window of your eye, firmly, embracing me. Now, you try to rub your cheek on mine, …

GABRIELE MUNTER 1/4 – She was a German expressionist painter (most well known for her landscapes), born to upper middle class parents in Berlin, and began to draw as a child. Gabriele took classes at the Woman’s Artist School, since she was not allowed to enroll in the German Academies, because she was a woman. GABRIELE MUNTER 2/4 – Living …

IN PERPETUAL SPRING Gardens are also good places to sulk. You pass beds of spiky voodoo lilies and trip over the roots of a sweet gum tree, in search of medieval plants whose leaves, when they drop off turn into birds if they fall on land, and colored carp if they plop into water. Suddenly the archetypal human desire for …

A COLD SPRING A cold spring: the violet was flawed on the lawn. For two weeks or more the trees hesitated; the little leaves waited, carefully indicating their characteristics. Finally a grave green dust settled over your big and aimless hills. One day, in a chill white blast of sunshine, on the side of one a calf was born. The …

SPRING Nothing is so beautiful as Spring, when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush. Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing. The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush the descending blue. That blue is all in …

JEAN BAPTISTE SIMEON CHARDIN 1/4 – He – the painter who was born and died in the fall, the son of a cabinet maker manufacturer of billiard tables – he has always lived in Paris, without ever traveling abroad, even in Italy, as was customary at the time. The subjects of his paintings were less hardworking than those of his …

PRAYER Make me quiet, if you can. It is not so much anxiety that I hide, and even the rush, but I will not try. I do not want to have, what you know will not give me pleasure, and can therefore hurt. You give me: the memory that you’re there, that I want you, that you fill me and …