All posts tagged: poem

Why the Final Poem of al-Ghazālī Shocked His Followers

Published by Sam Flores

During his ten years of wandering and solitude, al-Ghazālī lived austerely and forewent ordinary comforts. He authored many of his important works during this period and sought spiritual advancement through Sufi practices. In his final years, he immersed himself in contemplation and became a revered master of Sufism. Every moment of his life, until the end, was filled with acts of devotion in preparation for his union with the Beloved. The Mysterious Last Morning of an Islamic Luminary The mystic Ahmad Ghazali, talking to a disciple. Source: Bodleian Library / Wikimedia Commons Ahmad, al-Ghazālī ’s younger brother, recounts his death: On a quiet Monday morning in December 1111 AD, in the Persian city of Tus, al-Ghazālī performed his ablutions and offered prayers. He then asked for his burial shroud, kissed it, and pressed it against his eyes, saying, “I hear and obey the call to go to the King.” He then rested his feet pointing toward Mecca and was taken up to the heavens by God. According to a well-known spiritual …

The Odyssey ending explained: How does it differ from Homer’s epic poem?

Published by Daniella Wilson

(**WARNING: Contains major spoilers for The Odyssey**) Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of The Odyssey finally arrived in UK cinemas over the weekend – and it’s safe to say that for most film fans, the epic has lived up to all the pre-release hype. Not only has the film scored incredibly well with critics – including receiving a five-star review from Radio Times – it’s also already been a huge box office smash, making an incredible $264m in its opening weekend. If you’re one of the many, many people who has already watched the film, you might have a couple of questions about how Nolan chooses to end his version of the centuries-old tale – and specifically if he made any alterations from the original text. Read on for everything you need to know. Want to see this content? This page contains content provided by Google reCAPTCHA. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as Google reCAPTCHA may use cookies and other technologies. To view this content, choose ‘Accept and continue’ to allow Google reCAPTCHA …

The Odyssey: Why We're Still Inspired By A 2,700-Year-Old Poem

Published by Sam Flores

A poem by Rae Armantrout: ‘A Room Is Like a Mind, but Whose?’

Published by Sam Flores

In the small oblong that was our living/dining room, the carpet was maroon (the color of dried blood) and the walls were light yellow. Did my mother think this combination was cheerful? She did value cheer. It was somehow inconceivable to ask what she was thinking. The couch and two rockers were covered in a brown-and-white fabric depicting farm scenes. Gauzy drapes were pulled across the front windows, softening the bright sun on parked cars and a few ragged palms. There was a grandfather clock on the living-room wall and a wall clock in the kitchen. Between their booms and ticks, time loomed large in that house, though there was little to keep track of. In my memory, my mother is off at work and my father is in the black Naugahyde recliner reserved for him, drinking beer. I make a wide loop around him on my way through the kitchen and out the back door, headed for the patio swing. Some scientist hypothesizes that space-time records each movement ever made, every loud swipe of …

A poem by William H. McRaven: ‘The Burden They Carry’

Published by Daniella Wilson

Wheeling the old warriorsoff the Honor Flight planewith flags and banners,people calling their names. From Chosen to Kabul,from Baghdad to Hue,after all these yearstoday was their day. Oh, the burden they carry,I heard one woman say.I wonder if our childrenwould serve today? But not far offanother plane left,with soldiers and sailors,their solemn duty kept. Nearby, a young wife,two children at her side.It’s the burden she carriesas the plane took flight. And across the seain an ancient land,a lowered steel ramp,a song from a band. A flag-draped coffin.A fallen hero inside.It’s the burden they carried,and they carried it with pride. Emptiness and sorrow,pain and loss.It’s the burden they carry.The unbearable cost. They swore an oathto support and defend.It’s the burden they carriedto the very end. Wheeling the old warriorsoff the Honor Flight planewith flags and banners,people calling their names. From Fallujah to Khe Sanh,from V-E to V-J,after all these yearstoday was their day. A young child wavedas the old men passed.Home to a hero’s welcome.Home at last. It’s a burden they carryfor a day like today.It’s …

A poem by Athena Nassar: ‘Reflections in the Door of a School Bus and Other Doors’

Published by José Betancourt

Athena Nassar is an Egyptian American poet, essayist, and short-story writer. She is the author of Little Houses. She has an M.F.A. in poetry from Vanderbilt University and will be a Ph.D. student in poetry at Georgia State University, where she will also teach. Source link

A poem by John Waters: ‘Catch’

Published by José Betancourt

John Waters is a writer, a film director, an actor, and a visual artist best known for his films, including Hairspray, Pink Flamingos, and Serial Mom. He is the author of the national best sellers Role Models, Carsick, and Mr. Know-It-All. His spoken word show Going to Extremes continues to be performed around the world. Source link

A poem by Maggie Millner: ‘Forbearance’

Published by Sam Flores

We’ve stopped talking againso the earth has no color.Everywhere the chlorophyll has paused,light burning over the day’s lessonsas hunger burnsthe mouth I can’t make eat.A little rice? A little soup?I’d rather diereading the early textsyou sent about my breasts.I wouldn’t take a picture—infidelity!—and so instead had conjured themwith words,for which, with words,you gave me back a tonguewe dragged across the skinof common thought.Such is our lot,our shared disease or gift.Like Bernini’s angelspropped somewhere in Romeacross a navewe fetishize remove,which keeps the ideal possible,the possible ideal.So why is life so dull without your veins?Today on Twelfth the drugstore glassreflects a woman bracedagainst a private wind:the wind of her conscience, maybe,spinning on the mandrel of desire.Later, she opens mail.She shops for artichokes and squash,fingering their groovesfor information from the flesh.The life I love cannot include you,she wants to say,but because we are not speakingshe must say it into the poem,whose possibilities contractwith every word.Watch it narrow even as it grows.This is the terror—granite, pixels, blighted grass—this is the terrorchoices make of lives. Source link

Poem of the week: Now, Mother, What’s the Matter? by Richard W Halperin | Poetry

Published by Sam Flores

Now, Mother, What’s the Matter? Only the monsters do not have troubled hearts.Life is for troubled hearts. Art is for troubledhearts. For my whole life, Hamlet has beena bridge between. Hamlet’s ‘Now, mother,what’s the matter?’ is life on earth. Somethingis always the matter, and not just for mothers.(As I write this, the Angelus rings.) Everycharacter in Hamlet is troubled, there areno monsters in it. I render unto Caesarthe things that are Caesar’s — everything istroubled there and, if I am lucky, Caesaris troubled. I render unto God the thingsthat are God’s and feel — want to feel? Do feel —that God is troubled. I also render unto art.But I have no idea what art is. WhatEdward Thomas’s ‘Adlestrop’ is. Whatthe luminous chaos of The Portrait of a Lady is. What The Pilgrim’s Progress is.My feet knew the way before I openedthe book: that just before the gate to heavenis yet another hole to hell. Richard W Halperin was born in Chicago to an Irish mother, and an American father with Russian ancestry. Early in his …

A poem by Issa Quincy: ‘I am here in the evening light’

Published by José Betancourt

I am here in the evening light,my eyes now white like the museum sparrow,with a voice that no longer trembles: Remember the child. I’ll visit as a songbird, a rabbit,and lead you up the dash with the wind.I waited for your permission, faceless,and you gave it. It was a terminal we both knew:the open woods, a last request, an imposition,the letter E. The leaves narrowed the highwayand were full of water. You said so.That is life:the gray flattering the green. You slept on the town beach,I throughout the day.I wondered if you’d become lost. I gave you this land and told youthe last time is never last. We met in the afternoonand dined that night at an oval table.There was tiredness, the deep kind,and no wine—only the promise of August. Source link

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All posts tagged: poem

Why the Final Poem of al-Ghazālī Shocked His Followers

The Odyssey ending explained: How does it differ from Homer’s epic poem?

The Odyssey: Why We're Still Inspired By A 2,700-Year-Old Poem

A poem by Rae Armantrout: ‘A Room Is Like a Mind, but Whose?’

A poem by William H. McRaven: ‘The Burden They Carry’

A poem by Athena Nassar: ‘Reflections in the Door of a School Bus and Other Doors’

A poem by John Waters: ‘Catch’

A poem by Maggie Millner: ‘Forbearance’

Poem of the week: Now, Mother, What’s the Matter? by Richard W Halperin | Poetry

A poem by Issa Quincy: ‘I am here in the evening light’