Between the Moons

The poetry of earth is never dead:

This does not lack of correctness, Mr Keats.

How cometh?

Poets who took their dwelling six feet under centuries ago, wouldn't write poems, hm?

They have written them. Great poems amongst. Yes. Great poetry.

And, centuries later, generations later still there are people who admire those dead poets' skills, their depth & wisdom, their humour & prudence.

Right so.

And nice. Especially for publishers.
No copyright (owner).
Dead poets wouldn't claim royalties, hm?
All one has to do is to keep them alive - the Novalis, Emerson, Homer, Rumi, Hafis, Dafydd ap Gwilym, Petrarca, Byron, Shelley [did I forget to mention any? ha ha ha].
Great poetry. And cheap, hm?!

Yes.

I confess:

The authors of the vast majority of books in my shelves are dead.

Strange, isn't it? :) Hm ...

The more glad I am that once - about two years ago by clicking a link I stumbled upon or - is it more precise to write? - let myself stumble upon a living poet. :)

My first reaction: Interesting.

With hindsight, interesting too: Reading the comments (Oh, this is absolutely gorgeous; ah, so wonderful; ah ... oh ... uh ) let me think of followers worshipping their guru, and thus it needed another coincidence (?) to visit this very blog again, seven or ten months later.

And - step by step - haiga by taiga this ignoramus got more intrigued.

Yes. :)

Sometimes I'd (even) leave a comment.

And yes:

I'd always leave a comment (since) were I able to perpetually invent new superlatives. :)

[Did I ever mention I do not like superlatives? ... Well, when willfully exaggerating ... ]

Come to your mission! I hear some readers think.

Alright! Here we go.
Those who'd know my sidebar will anyway know.

Know that I can't get enough of her (poetry). :)

In case you did not know Janice Thomson, yet, voilà, form your opinion here and here and here.

And? ... Good, hm?

Now, like the hunchbacked and :) dead genius I could say/write:

If you own two trousers
sell one, and
buy this book.

Nah!
Wait!
Check your wardrobe! Certainly, there are some more trousers (or skirts) you would not miss when being sold.
Sell them all. Order several books. They'll make some exquisite poetic gifts.
Where to order your books? Here.

And then - enjoy.
Afterwards, I am - almost :) - sure, like me you will be looking forward to Volume II by this very vivid poet / painter / photographer.

I see it in your eyes, bee

.... and I wonder what you saw in mine.

click to enlarge

Some dahlias these days

What a silly post, some haply visitors might think. How boring.

Well, that's part of Seanhenge, and thus of Omnium. ... :)

... and a daily pleasure for my eyes.

And if this were my last day ...

:)

... I'd like to plant an apple tree.

Kohlrabi for the Poor Mouth

After all, only :) 100 days after I promised Jams O'Donnel Esq. to grow some Kohlrabi more, just for him:

Here you are Jams: Bon appetit!

In between

Time flies.
It's exactly one month ago that I commented on this post by Nevin:
"The tiniest aliments are enough
to prove that most members
of the so-called stronger sex actually are wimps.
I know this, 'cause I am a ... man."

Some days later, for almost one week my back kept telling me that I had obviously done something silly for a man in my age - still can't imagine, what :) - hardly couldn't move, and even when sitting moveless my back hurt.

And, just I had started to again enjoy the pleasure one ought to feel when nothing causes pain, one morning I woke up and - walking was great fun.
Checking the sole of my left foot I detected a knob.
Fortunately, after four or five lousy days it had disappeared, and (almost) everything was fine again.
Trying to think of a reason for this knob, I remembered that one day (when picking cherries) I had for hours been standing on the ladder.

Well, and right now, whilst sitting here with prettily scratched forearms (all the thanks I got for weeding and putting mown grass around the sunflowers and courgettes), I am glad that my all over pricked colourful shinbones are not asking for an extensive scratch.

So much for wimps.

This afternoon, reading the advance reading copy of Roberto Bolaño's "2666" which Hanser will publish on September 7th, I came to think of all the posts I have in the pipeline.

So, whilst having a cigarette and a coffee on balcony, I started to list:

- Answering comments;
- Update Dr. Mukwege / Congo;
- Update Order 81
- Update murders of (Russian) journalists / human rights activists
- Iran / Venezuela / South Africa (not always U.S. of A. are to blaim)
- Albinos in Africa [compare with Roma/gypsies - Jams O'Donnell on occasion of the Zigeunernacht, ran both a remarkable and harrowing series of six posts beginning here -; Jews; homosexuals (f.e. Russia, Tel Aviv)
- Orthodox Jews are allowed to throw stones etc. on Sabbath :)
- T.S. Eliot, Four Quartetts (Stan)
- commending other posts (perhaps a revival of Wordy Wednesday?)
- Lady J's book
- Cheney, Obama - torture
- Kohlrabi - Jams
- Uighurs / China / dissidents (are Uighurs the better people?)
- Bush - Cheney - Dostum
- Belfast Telegraph - Informers
- Impressions de Seanhenge - flowers / plants
- cherry-drunken birds & butterflies
- Zaha Hadid - architect - born in Iraq
- Krisctina Morrei (Jobbik) - Hungarian fascists
- photos of horrible deads - publishing them or not?
- Monsanto - girl - vulture

Herewith a small sheet of paper was filled on both sides.

Plus 103 drafts.
Plus x other topics.

Not to mention these:
- German politics / politics / life in Germany
- The (personal) dreams I want to make come true;
- hiatus;
- The end of Omnium

- - - -

Presently I doubt that there will be a (voluntary) end of Omnium; as you know Omnium is everything and - everywhere. :)

- - - -

No irony and/or arrogance; I hope readers - and you who read until here are certainly qualified to be called a reader :) - would (try to) understand.

Yes.

Sometimes I do regret that I started blogging in English.

As far as I do know myself ( here are following several atrributes not mentioned - ha ha ha), I shall not stop blogging (in English), though, before I am sure Omnium (which is everything) is said.

On the other site: I can never be sure of what I am doing.

Can you?

The peace of the night.

---

Ah ... just to make sure: This post was not written due to a drink I made of this very Angel trumpet in Seanhenge ...

Click to enlarge