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Brennbaum

The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;

The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years,
Showed only when the daylight fell
Level across the face
Of Brennbaum 'The Impeccable'.

poem by Ezra Pound
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Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I)

"Vocat aestus in umbram"
Nemesianus Es. IV.

E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre

For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --

No, hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;
Capaneus; trout for factitious bait:

"Idmen gar toi panth, os eni Troie
Caught in the unstopped ear;
Giving the rocks small lee-way
The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.

His true Penelope was Flaubert,
He fished by obstinate isles;
Observed the elegance of Circe's hair
Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.

Unaffected by "the march of events",
He passed from men's memory in l'an trentiesme
De son eage; the case presents
No adjunct to the Muses' diadem.

II.

The age demanded an image
Of its accelerated grimace,
Something for the modern stage,
Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;

Not, not certainly, the obscure reveries
Of the inward gaze;
Better mendacities
Than the classics in paraphrase!

The "age demanded" chiefly a mould in plaster,
Made with no loss of time,
A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabaster
Or the "sculpture" of rhyme.

III.

The tea-rose, tea-gown, etc.
Supplants the mousseline of Cos,
The pianola "replaces"
Sappho's barbitos.

Christ follows Dionysus,
Phallic and ambrosial
Made way for macerations;
Caliban casts out Ariel.

All things are a flowing,
Sage Heracleitus says;
But a tawdry cheapness
Shall reign throughout our days.

Even the Christian beauty
Defects -- after Samothrace;
We see to kalon
Decreed in the market place.

Faun's flesh is not to us,
Nor the saint's vision.
We have the press for wafer;
Franchise for circumcision.

All men, in law, are equals.
Free of Peisistratus,
We choose a knave or an eunuch
To rule over us.

A bright Apollo,

tin andra, tin eroa, tina theon,
What god, man, or hero
Shall I place a tin wreath upon?

IV.

These fought, in any case,
and some believing, pro domo, in any case ..

Some quick to arm,
some for adventure,
some from fear of weakness,
some from fear of censure,
some for love of slaughter, in imagination,
learning later ...

some in fear, learning love of slaughter;
Died some pro patria, non dulce non et decor" ..

walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;

usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.

Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
Fair cheeks, and fine bodies;

fortitude as never before

frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.

V.

There died a myriad,
And of the best, among them,
For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
For a botched civilization.

Charm, smiling at the good mouth,
Quick eyes gone under earth's lid,

For two gross of broken statues,
For a few thousand battered books.

Yeux Glauques

Gladstone was still respected,
When John Ruskin produced
"Kings Treasuries"; Swinburne
And Rossetti still abused.

Fœtid Buchanan lifted up his voice
When that faun's head of hers
Became a pastime for
Painters and adulterers.

The Burne-Jones cartons
Have preserved her eyes;
Still, at the Tate, they teach
Cophetua to rhapsodize;

Thin like brook-water,
With a vacant gaze.
The English Rubaiyat was still-born
In those days.

The thin, clear gaze, the same
Still darts out faun-like from the half-ruin'd face,
Questing and passive ....
"Ah, poor Jenny's case" ...

Bewildered that a world
Shows no surprise
At her last maquero's
Adulteries.

"Siena Mi Fe', Disfecemi Maremma"

Among the pickled fœtuses and bottled bones,
Engaged in perfecting the catalogue,
I found the last scion of the
Senatorial families of Strasbourg, Monsieur Verog.

For two hours he talked of Gallifet;
Of Dowson; of the Rhymers' Club;
Told me how Johnson (Lionel) died
By falling from a high stool in a pub ...

But showed no trace of alcohol
At the autopsy, privately performed --
Tissue preserved -- the pure mind
Arose toward Newman as the whiskey warmed.

Dowson found harlots cheaper than hotels;
Headlam for uplift; Image impartially imbued
With raptures for Bacchus, Terpsichore and the Church.
So spoke the author of "The Dorian Mood",

M. Verog, out of step with the decade,
Detached from his contemporaries,
Neglected by the young,
Because of these reveries.

Brennbaum.

The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;

The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years,
Showed only when the daylight fell
Level across the face
Of Brennbaum "The Impeccable".

Mr. Nixon

In the cream gilded cabin of his steam yacht
Mr. Nixon advised me kindly, to advance with fewer
Dangers of delay. "Consider
Carefully the reviewer.

"I was as poor as you are;
"When I began I got, of course,
"Advance on royalties, fifty at first", said Mr. Nixon,
"Follow me, and take a column,
"Even if you have to work free.

"Butter reviewers. From fifty to three hundred
"I rose in eighteen months;
"The hardest nut I had to crack
"Was Dr. Dundas.

"I never mentioned a man but with the view
"Of selling my own works.
"The tip's a good one, as for literature
"It gives no man a sinecure."

And no one knows, at sight a masterpiece.
And give up verse, my boy,
There's nothing in it."

* * *

Likewise a friend of Bloughram's once advised me:
Don't kick against the pricks,
Accept opinion. The "Nineties" tried your game
And died, there's nothing in it.

X.

Beneath the sagging roof
The stylist has taken shelter,
Unpaid, uncelebrated,
At last from the world's welter

Nature receives him,
With a placid and uneducated mistress
He exercises his talents
And the soil meets his distress.

The haven from sophistications and contentions
Leaks through its thatch;
He offers succulent cooking;
The door has a creaking latch.

XI.

"Conservatrix of Milésien"
Habits of mind and feeling,
Possibly. But in Ealing
With the most bank-clerkly of Englishmen?

No, "Milésian" is an exaggeration.
No instinct has survived in her
Older than those her grandmother
Told her would fit her station.

XII.

"Daphne with her thighs in bark
Stretches toward me her leafy hands", --
Subjectively. In the stuffed-satin drawing-room
I await The Lady Valentine's commands,

Knowing my coat has never been
Of precisely the fashion
To stimulate, in her,
A durable passion;

Doubtful, somewhat, of the value
Of well-gowned approbation
Of literary effort,
But never of The Lady Valentine's vocation:

Poetry, her border of ideas,
The edge, uncertain, but a means of blending
With other strata
Where the lower and higher have ending;

A hook to catch the Lady Jane's attention,
A modulation toward the theatre,
Also, in the case of revolution,
A possible friend and comforter.

* * *

Conduct, on the other hand, the soul
"Which the highest cultures have nourished"
To Fleet St. where
Dr. Johnson flourished;

Beside this thoroughfare
The sale of half-hose has
Long since superseded the cultivation
Of Pierian roses.

poem by Ezra Pound
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Eyes Without A Face

I'm all out of hope. One more bad break could bring a fall.
When I'm far from home don't call me on the phone to tell me you're alone
It's easy to deceive. It's easy to tease. But hard to get release.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.

I spend so much time believing all the lies to keep the dream alive.
Now it makes me sad. It makes me mad at truth for lovin' what was you.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Your eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.

(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Your eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
Such a human waste your eyes without a face.
And now it's getting worse. Yeah.

song performed by by Scooter from Encore (Live & Direct)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once A Great Love

Once a great love cut my life in two.
The first part goes on twisting
at some other place like a snake cut in two.

The passing years have calmed me
and brought healing to my heart and rest to my eyes.

And I'm like someone standing in the Judean desert, looking at a sign:
'Sea Level'
He cannot see the sea, but he knows.

Thus I remember your face everywhere
at your 'face Level.'

poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Waiting For The Day

Now everyday I see you in some other face
They crack a smile, talk a while,
try to take your place
My memories serve me far too well
It's not like at all
we just broke up
It's not like at all
it was yesterday
But something I just can't explain
something
And no one ever saw your face again
just say good bye to the stupid mistakes we made
My memories serve me far too well
the years will come and go
some of them will change our lives
some of us still have nothing to show
nothing baby
but memories
And I just wish to see your face again
Won't you keep waiting for that day ?
I know I know I know
You hear these words that I say
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want

song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without the face, no grace

The dimple in her elbow,
More hollowed by her flesh
Bulging on her upper arms,

The muscles on her hip,
Crippled by tight blouse,
To pinnate down below,

And the sturdy nape,
Under her thick plait of mane
Falling like the trunk of an elephant,

She showed her back
And tormented me to rush
Forward to ogle her face.

Her face was out of grace,
Those parts lost their base.
Without a face, there’s no grace.
21.10.2000

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Three Portraits of Prince Charles

1731

BEAUTIFUL face of a child,
Lighted with laughter and glee,
Mirthful, and tender, and wild,
My heart is heavy for thee!

1744

Beautiful face of a youth,
As an eagle poised to fly forth
To the old land loyal of truth,
To the hills and the sounds of the North:
Fair face, daring and proud,
Lo! the shadow of doom, even now,
The fate of thy line, like a cloud,
Rests on the grace of thy brow!

1773

Cruel and angry face,
Hateful and heavy with wine,
Where are the gladness, the grace,
The beauty, the mirth that were thine?

Ah, my Prince, it were well,—
Hadst thou to the gods been dear,—
To have fallen where Keppoch fell,
With the war-pipe loud in thine ear!
To have died with never a stain
On the fair White Rose of Renown,
To have fallen, fighting in vain,
For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown!
More than thy marble pile,
With its women weeping for thee,
Were to dream in thine ancient isle,
To the endless dirge of the sea!
But the Fates deemed otherwise;
Far thou sleepest from home,
From the tears of the Northern skies,
In the secular dust of Rome.
A city of death and the dead,
But thither a pilgrim came,
Wearing on weary head
The crowns of years and fame:
Little the Lucrine lake
Or Tivoli said to him,
Scarce did the memories wake
Of the far-off years and dim,
For he stood by Avernus’ shore.
But he dreamed of a Northern glen,
And he murmured, over and o’er,
“For Charlie and his men:”
And his feet, to death that went,
Crept forth to St. Peter’s shrine,
And the latest Minstrel bent
O’er the last of the Stuart line.

poem by Andrew Lang
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Eyes Without A Face

Im all out of hope
One more bad dream could bring a fall
When Im far from home
Dont call me on the phone
To tell me youre alone
Its easy to deceive
Its easy to tease
But hard to get release
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
I spend so much time
Believing all the lies
To keep the dream alive
Now it makes me sad
It makes me mad at truth
For loving what was you
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
When you hear the music you make a dip
Into someone elses pocket then make a slip.
Steal a car and go to las vegas oh, the gigolo pool.
Hanging out by the state line,
Turning holy water into wine
Drinkin it down
Im on a bus on a psychedelic trip
Reading murder books tryin to stay hip.
Im thinkin of you youre out there so
Say your prayers.
Say your prayers.
Say your prayers.
Now I close my eyes
And I wonder why
I dont despise
Now all I can do
Is love what was once
So alive and new
But its gone from your eyes
Id better realise
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Les yeux sans visage eyes without a face
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
Such a human waste your eyes without a face
And now its getting worse.

song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One morning I saw a man

One morning I saw a man
who looked at me
with red eyes
and his beard,
was unshaven and grew
rough and untamed.

The man looked familiar
and in the look in his eyes,
was something that hit
into my very soul.

Years was etched into his face
and it told its own story
and I almost did not recognise him,
but the mirror showed my own face.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Your Other Face

There again
I saw your other face
I saw your other expression
That I never had before
Face that will never be showed for me
Because there’s only somebody else
Can make your face like that
Face that show not for me
But for other people I don’t know
I hate to see it, I become jealous
Like I don’t have you completely
Like you have thousand other faces
That I never see, that you hide from me
Like I’m out of the circle and you become distant
Do I have those faces too?
Face that only show for me
Face that comes out because of me
Face that only show when there’s nobody else but me
I will keep it as mine
I will never share to anyone
Face that only for me
So I can have part of you
That nobody else has ever known or seen

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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What Is A Face?

What is a face
that wears no smile?
'Tis only the face
that's been hurt for a while.

What is a face
that's gracious to see?
'Tis surely the face
of serenity.

What is a face
with wondrous eyes?
'Tis one that sees
beyond the skies.

What is a face
with saddened eyes
'Tis the face of a soul
with inner cries.

What is a face
that's hard to define?
'Tis one with no expression
of any kind.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Her Face!

Face! A kind of identity
She has got his quality
To change her face
In the clouds of grace

I want to see her again
In the season cloudy rain
When her face is watered
Nothing could be uttered

Seeing her face I think
I don't want to blink
But it's shameful eyes
Plays off when she shys.

poem by Vizard Dhawan
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977: I Had A Mirror; The Mirror Of Memories!

I had a mirror, the mirror of my memories
Memories that I breathed with and I relished.
I saw in the mirror, and I could just see;
The sun is shinning and the breeze swaying!
I could see the flight of a paradise flycatcher;
And, the incessant flow of the milky stream.

I had a mirror, the mirror of my memories
Memories that I just lived and I cherished.
I saw in the mirror, and I could just see;
The ravishing beauty of her angelic face!
I could see the cheer of thousand butterflies;
And, the shimmer from her lotus eyes!

I had a mirror, the mirror of my memories
Memories that I endured with and I danced.
I saw in the mirror, and I could just see;
Those vulnerable thoughts of my futile crush!
I could see the disgrace of my sightless chase;
And, the utmost depth of my lamenting eyes!

I had a mirror, the mirror of my memories
Memories that I survived and now bemoan!
I saw in the mirror, and I could see;
Those sorrowful contours of her maturing face!
I could see her wail amongst a thousand skint; *
And, I was there……… Yet, she was lonely!

poem by Catastrophe KING
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Trance

Every memory of you sleeps in me.
At times I wake in them
and then you're mine again.

Every memory of you sustains me.
At times I fell on them
then I see your face again.

I fell for you as the rain should fall;
bringing me memories, old memories to replenish me..
sweet memories to sustain.
At times I hold on to them
and then I'm alone again.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Your Face Is My Face

your face
is my face
how could you not see it?
your face
is my face
how could not not have felt kissing it?
your face
is my face
and it is the face of God
how could you have hated it?
your eyes
are my eyes
and they have long been blinded
on bouncing stares
like pingpong balls
rebounding
reverberating the sound of nothing

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Way Back Then

Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.

30 April 2008

poem by David Harris
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Asking Myself Why

I sat down to write a letter
to an old friend of mine,
someone I had not seen
for thirty or forty years.
Only realizing as I put pen to paper
how the years had flown by,
though it only seem like yesterday
we had met on the street
and had a long chat together.
I realized then to my regret
that I did not know if
they were alive or dead.
If they were gone,
yet another thread to my past
had disappeared forever.
A curtain of sadness fell over me
as my memories re-enacted
moments from so long ago,
moments that will never return.

My pen hovered above the paper
and no words could I write
as my mind clouded with memories
of friends I had let go.
It's so easy to say see you later,
when half the time we never do.
Then comes today like now
and you realise there maybe no later.
Those friends of yesterday maybe gone
and only reside within your memories.
Tears glazed my eyes
and I gave a silent sigh.
I wondered how may more times
will I ask myself why
in the passing of time.
Why I just sat and let them go.

25 February 2012

poem by David Harris
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When The Daylight Comes

(ian hunter)
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, ooooo
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, ooooo
Sweet woman whats your name?
You smell as fresh as the rain
Instead of leaving you came
Let me feel your hair
A light shines in your eyes
The hungry years are so nice
Shadows shake in the lamplight
No writer could explain
But when the daylight comes
But when the daylight comes
But when the daylight comes
Ill be on my way
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, ooooo
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, ooooo
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, ooooo, yeah!
Please share my bed and I swear
That I wont touch you nowhere
Just need your warmth and your care
Dont wanna mess around
And when the daylight comes
Yeah when the daylight comes
Oh when the daylight comes
Ill be on my way
Yeah when the daylight comes
Yeah when the daylight comes
Yeah when the daylight comes
Ill be on my way
But theres a song in the air
And it knows that youre there
cause its making me share
You with my life
I know I know I know that
I want to weave you in words
Want to paint you in verse
Want to leave you in someone elses dreams
It seems the only way, hey!
I can thank you, thank you baby
Some people say that were sinners
Some people say that were winners
We make good gossip at dinners
They try to pin us down
But when the daylight comes
Yeah when the daylight comes
Oh when the daylight comes
Ill be on my way
Yeah when the daylight comes
Yeah when the daylight comes
Oh when the daylight comes
Well be on my way
(repeat and fade)

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are Still You On That Dimming Fading Light

you are still you on that dimming
fading light in the room where we softly talk
the years did not diminish you
your hair still curly, black and shiny hanging on the side of your ears
your forehead did not give in to the furrows of your sorrows
no wrinkles reside on your cheeks, tight and smooth on the light
of the small gas lamp
your gaze lands on my eyes like soft hands caressing my face
i gaze in return like the way how we understand each other
when we were so young and playful
when we tried to defy authority only to end in submission
you are still you in your undying love for me
as i have unlearned what we have taken as memories for ourselves
i, now, in my indifference, accepts what life is
the coldness of reason, the grip of necessity, the confidence
of being stuck and not moving to a new direction
looking at you with pity
holding firm for tears not to fall, and then opening the door
closing it again and moving away
feeling the weakness again
running to the streets and not looking back at your face
realizing how the years fell heavy on my back
how i have betrayed myself

you are you, firm and so beautiful
leave me, for i am no longer strong, so ugly like a heart that no longer feels

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everytime I See Your Face

I was looking everywhere to find you
By and by, my intentions were good
But I know I don't watch where I'm walking
When I know I should
If the nighttime turns into day before I say what I mean
God damn all these obstacles before me, yeah
Every time I see your face, it's like Heaven opens up her gates
And I fall behind, I just close my eyes, I just close my eyes
If the quicksand of love and deception
Finds a way to come between you and me
Don't fret, I'm gonna cut through the darkness and set us free, yeah
And if you wanna just lay with me darlin, let the mystery silently speak
Take my tongue, take my lungs if you want, I'll even try not to breathe, yeah
Every time I see your face, something overwhelms my heart with grace
And I fall behind, I just close my eyes I just close my eyes
Every time I see your face
I know you are the one (I was looking everywhere to find you)
I know you're more than wonderful
I know you are the one
Every time I see your face, it's like Heaven opens up her gates
And I fall behind, I just close my eyes, I just close my eyes
Every time I see your face, something overwhelms my heart with grace
And I fall behind, I just close my eyes, I just close my eyes
Yeah, oh, oh, yeah
Every time
I see your face
Every time
Every time

song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secrete Beauty

She was not blessed with comely grace,
spurned and shunned by cupids arrows
because of her displeasing face
and breasts like kneecaps on a sparrow.
Her scrawny frame one could infer
if dressed in red and eyed sideways
she'd mimic a thermometer;
no outward grace to be displayed.
Her real beauty was deep inside
hidden behind two large, brown eyes
where a beautiful soul resides
eternally and undisguised.
Beauty is a skin-deep grace
it's just a temporary thing:
a short-term asset on a face
that fades away like this years spring.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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