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Quotes about Frieda Hughes

Kahlo-Christ Conjunctions - Sacrificed Flesh, Broken Bread, Emmaus Vision

[The curious or, better, interested reader may view the images alluded to in this essay at this website: http: //falconwarren.blogspot.com/2011/01/kahlo-christ- conjunctions-sacrificed.html]


Kahlo Strophes


As with love, also the bellows.

Calavera*, the Future stands
hand to mouth, fingers to forehead
unfolding before still instatic shapes.
Hold desperately to frames before
these quaking perceptions.


She could not stop there,
had to flare out, dry paint,
and the dryer flesh peel down
to bone, a sexless esqueleto**,
skull no longer mustached,

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Escaping Into Solitude

Escaping into solitude,
avoiding hunters’ need to roam,
I long for the latitude
to find my longitude, my home,
where the goddess who presides
over hearth and in the kitchen
born one week before the Ides,
lets me worship her and richen.


Michiko Kakutani reviews Diane Middlebrooks’ “Her Husband: Hughes and Plath: A Marriage” (Viking) in The New York Times, October 14,2003:

The portrait that emerges is that of a selfish artist who 'lived for poetry, with single-mindedness of the sort he had long ago discerned in W. B. Yeats, the first poet who ever seized his imagination.' Together, he wrote in a letter quoted in this book, Plath and he found a way to 'sacrifice everything to writing.' Without each other, he contended, he would probably have wandered off to Australia, and she would have become a professor and written books on the side. He told a friend that the marriage had been 'marvelously creative' for him for half a dozen years.
But he found it surprisingly easy to move on then, leaving Plath and their two children, when he 'wanted to be out from under her watchfulness, ' in Ms. Middlebrook's words. Because the marriage was an emotionally fraught and artistically productive relationship, the narrative of 'Her Husband' cannot help but fascinate, providing new tidbits of information and insight to anyone who has followed the melodrama of the poets' relationship and the scholarly deconstruction of their art and their lives.
The problem is that Ms. Middlebrook insists on subjecting Hughes's life to a relentlessly Freudian and often highly speculative reading, not dissimilar to that in her 1991 biography of Anne Sexton. And in placing Hughes on the couch she demonstrates an unfortunate tendency to overemphasize the autobiographical elements in his poems (at the expense of his imaginative transactions) and to gloss his actions and choices with a thick patina of psychological determinism.
She writes that the Hughes poem 'Song' is 'quite evidently a poem about the impact of Sylvia Plath on Ted Hughes, even if it was inspired by another woman and written more than half a dozen years before Hughes met Plath.' And she predicts that 'Hughes's access to poetic inspiration was eventually going to require two specific forms of rebellion against domesticity.' Both 'would be enacted against the women in his life, selfishly and sometimes cruelly': the first being an 'escape into solitude, ' the second being what she calls 'the hunter's freedom to roam, ' a need nourished, she contends, in his childhood, when he would escape his mother's suffocating hold by going out on the moors to hunt with his older brother, Gerald.
Hughes was a devotee of Robert Graves's book 'The White Goddess, ' which held that poetry evolved from masculine rituals of devotion to the Goddess thereby preserving humanity's connection to nature's cycles of birth and destruction. It is Ms. Middlebrook's theory that he found his muse in Sylvia Plath and that he saw their marriage as 'the doing of the White Goddess, ' which he was powerless to resist.

10/14/03

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Extensiones de Accidente - Estrofas de Frieda Kahlo

Estrofa 1

No podía dejar allí,
tuvo que se ensanchan, se seca la pintura,
y la carne, secador de piel de abajo
a los huesos, un esqueleto sin sexo *,
cráneo ya no bigote,
** una calavera, nada más,
siempre de calcio dependientes de curvas
sobre lienzo, lo que se congela
no para avivar y quema,
una 'cola de pavonis' **.

* Skeleton
** Cráneo
*** Peacock Tail (una imagen en la alquimia)

Estrofa 2

Calavera, el futuro está

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Extensions of Crash - Strophes For Frieda Kahlo

As with love, also the bellows.


Strophe 1


She could not stop there,
had to flare out, dry paint,
and the dryer flesh peel down
to bone, a sexless esqueleto*,
skull no longer mustached,
a calavera**, nothing more,
curved calcium reliant forever
upon canvas, what is congealed
there to fan and burn,
a 'cauda pavonis'**.

*Skeleton
**Skull
***Pea cock's Tail (an image in alchemy)

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A tale of our times.

(The life of Howard R Hughes is phenomenal. He was born in Houston, US on 24/12/1905 and expired on 05/04/1976. He owned a number of companies and was the Chairman of Hughes Aircrafts. But his richness did not give him a peaceful life towards the end. Life is afterall not a question of material richness but a measure of richness of mind and heart. His life naturally compels everybody to reflect on the moral and spiritual values of life. Hence this poem has a purpose unto mankind. I haven't tried to shorten this long, narrative poem for the fact that the reader should get to the whole issue of how a man could dig his own foundations to ruin himself. Let us take a lession out of his life) .


On board an air ambulance,
On way to The Methodist Hospital,
Unknown and unsung
He breathed his last.

His billions were a waste,
Richness could not save his life.
From the springs of yore
It was a wreckless wander unto a recluse and beyond.

Once upon a time
The winds were blowing soft.
Long long ago
His seasons were normal and perfect.

During his prime life
He was an archetype.

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Of course in war all madnesses come out in a man, that is the fault of war not of a man or a nation.

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SCATTERED...by Talile Ali

IT HAPPENS TO ALMOST EVERYONE
IT HAPPENED, I KNOW, TO ME
SOME KIND OF MAGIC INCIDENT
MY MIND JUST SIMPLY SEIZED

INTO SOME KINDA MADNESS
INTO A GENTLE MIST
OUT OF WHICH DOES COME SOME MAGIC
TO CONTINUE TO EXIST

HABITS BECOME
CHOICES
ABUSE'S BECOME A THING
IN WHICH YOU MAY FIND POWER
IN WHICH YOUR SPIRIT SINGS

YOU KNOW THERE'S SOMETHING PUTRID
IN THIS THING THAT YOU CHOSE TO DO
BUT YOUR BRAIN IS SO SCATTERED
MISUNDERSTOOD BY ALL YOU CHOOSE

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Time For Everything

we all have the time for everything…
a time to play and a time to sleep
a time to move and a time to be stiff
a time to cry and a time to laugh
a time to be weak and a time to be tough.

a time to doubt and a time to trust
a time to agree and a time to contrast
a time to be slow and a time to be fast
a time to fade and a time to last.

having twenty four hours a day, we have…
a time to be good and a time to be bad
a time to be mad and a time to be glad
a time to be silent and a time to be loud
a time to be down and a time to be proud

a time to be smart and a time to be dumb
a time to be hurt and a time to be loved
a time to be honest and a time to lie

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Growing up #2

I never talk much about my Dad
Because, when I do I get very sad
I can't give my dad much credit
Dad didn't raise us, mom did it

Oh please don't get me wrong
I loved him, he used to sing songs
But dad could be mean with his words
I know, because I always heard

I heard him talk to mom, like she was a dog
And when he wanted his kids, it was to kill a hog
He would take us to his mothers
And they would sit and talk about others

They talked mean about mom and her kids
Like he didn't help bring us into this world, but he did
Don't get me wrong, I loved him, because he was my dad
But he always put his mother in front of my mom, and that was sad

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Soul Music, food and wine

Soul Music, food and wine
For the hunger of our days
Expression of the mortal and divine
 
Stevie Wonder, Lauren Hill
Seize and sing the moment when
The loving heart becomes sublime and still
 
Curtis, Marvin, bass and horns
Cast protesting visions high
Into the stormy sacred sky
 
O'Jays, Dusty, Frieda Payne
Romantic love on a peace train
Incited dreams while the Supremes
Washed my senses in the rain
 
Now when I was a boy I knew
No black and white - only blue
I knew the charts by heart

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