Fave Poem of the Day

I believe poetry can happen to anyone, anytime and any day. Was reading up on the history of punk rock and came upon this intimate eulogy written by Sid Vicious to Nancy Spungen. It's simple, it's beautiful and in my eyes, it has all the spirit of great poetry.

Nancy

You were my little baby girl and I knew all your fears.
Such joy to hold you in my arms, and kiss away your tears.
But now you're gone there's only pain and nothing I can do.
And I don't want to live this life, if I can't live for you.

Sid Vicious............Jan 1979

Fave Poem of the Day

For the love of Sufism and its universal message of love :)

My heart has become capable of every form
by Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi

My heart has become capable of every form:
it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
And a temple for idols, and the pilgrim's Ka'ba,
and the tables of the Tora and the book of the Koran.
I follow the religion of Love, whichever way his camels take.
My religion and my faith is the true religion.
We have a pattern in Bishr, the lover of Hind and her sister,
and in Qays and Lubna, and in Mayya and Ghaylan.

Random Loves Part Enam: Dorian Leigh

I've always appreciated the feminine beauty, not only because it's nice to look at but because there's something highly spiritual about a woman that I have yet to figure out on my own. Was having a casual online surfing session when I found myself gawking awkwardly at this beautiful and elegant woman named Dorian Leigh. Now these are the kind of images that should spring into mind when the word 'sophistication' or 'classy' is mentioned.

Symposium Memories

Few random pics from what was an incredible event. It was awesome, were you there? :)

JOM! : Imagined Communities Revisited

We have one hella exciting event coming up if you're interested in literature and cultural studies. Drum roll please.

The Department of English Language and Literature is organising an international conference entitled "Imagined Communities Revisited: Identity, Nationalism and Globalisation in Asia Pacific Literatures and Cultures" which will kick off this Friday, 20th November 2009 and participation is open to all who would like to attend.

Some of the names of the literary giants dropping by include Benedict Anderson himself, Bruce Bennett, Tanure Ojaide, Wong Phui Nam, Zunar, Isabela Banzon, Carlotta Abrams and many more. (I am salivating already.)

Important update:

The 13th Biennial Symposium on Literatures and Cultures of the Asia-Pacific Region day-pass is now available!!

The details:

Date: 20-23 November 2009 (Friday-Monday)
Venue: Best Western Premier Seri Pacific Hotel, Kuala Lumpur. (Opposite The Mall & Legend Hotel) and Last day in IIUM (CAC Seminar Room)
Fee: RM 160.00 per day for any of the 3 days (no events on Sunday)

For more last minute need information on this event, visit the conference official website by clicking right HERE.

Fave Poem of the Day

Even though I was not too excited over Mr. Gilbert's reading of this poem, I have to admit that I somewhat enjoyed picturing him articulating the words as if disaster is about to strike soon. Note his every tone at the end of each line, couldn't help but feel my eyes droop with each words. But I guess it's just me. True, it doesn't help that this picture of him some how reminds me of that weird horror movie about an evil Santa Claus bludgeoning kids to death. But all is good, yup, all is definitely good.

PS: I am more than prepared to woo the next someone using his lines: "Shiploads of thuya are what, my body wants to say to your body". Dayyyyuuummmmmm, Gilbert, Dayyyum. *grins stupidly.

The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart
by Jack Gilbert

How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.