torsdag 26. mars 2009

“Nikki-Rosa” av Nikki Giovanni

Ja, i dag må det seffern bli et dikt av Nikki G! Og velger dette her fra 1968 - hennes kanskje aller mest avholdte - truddelutt & gratulerer så mye med dagen din, Christine!!

Videoen er registrert på YouTube som:
Nikki Giovanni - Nikki-Rosa
(Def Poetry)
Def Poetry Season 5, Episode 4 (S05 E04)
Air Date: 2005




Nikki-Rosa

childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you’re Black
you always remember things like living in Woodlawn
with no indoor toilet
and if you become famous or something
they never talk about how happy you were to have
your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water felt when you got your bath
from one of those
big tubs that folk in chicago barbecue in
and somehow when you talk about home
it never gets across how much you
understood their feelings
as the whole family attended meetings about Hollydale
and even though you remember
your biographers never understand
your father’s pain as he sells his stock
and another dream goes
And though you’re poor it isn’t poverty that
concerns you
and though they fought a lot
it isn’t your father’s drinking that makes any difference
but only that everybody is together and you
and your sister have happy birthdays and very good
Christmases
and I really hope no white person ever has cause
to write about me
because they never understand
Black love is Black wealth and they’ll
probably talk about my hard childhood
and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy

(Fra "Black Feeling, Black Talk, Black Judgment." 1968.)

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(Se september i menyen til høyre for mer Nikki Giovanni.)

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lørdag 14. mars 2009

OK, ikke akkurat poesi - men: oj!

Her, i løpet av 9 minutter, presenterer Hans Rosling en for meg på mange måter ny synsvinkel - og dét på en sånn måte - at det ga meg en skikkelig "oj!-opplevelse", en "eureka!-opplevelse" - akkurat som god litteratur kan det:



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søndag 1. mars 2009

Robert Bly

Jepp, det er på høy tid denne bloggen kikker innom den amerikanske poeten, forfatteren og fredsaktivisten Robert Bly, født 23. desember 1926 i Minnesota, USA av norskættede foreldre.

Den omfattende og flotte hjemmesiden hans fins
her.

Og to interessante Dagbladet.no-artikler skrevet av den norske poeten Helge Torvund:

Leksjon en: "Om diktinga og arbeidet til den amerikanske poeten Robert Bly."
Leksjon to: "Å liggja lågt."



CALL AND ANSWER

Tell me why it is we don´t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: "Go on, cry. What´s the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!"

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can¹t
Escape from silence? If we don´t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we´ve listened to the great criers -- Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass -- and now
We¹re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

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THE BLINDING OF SAMSON

Don't you see them? They are coming to blind Samson!
But some of us don't want the day to end!
If Samson goes blind, what will happen to the sea?

Isn't it bad enough that the sun goes down
Each night, while children throw shoes at the moon?
I remember my mother's grief at sunset.

Now I remember my father. I remember
Every father when he is wrestling with his son.
Oh Lord of the Four Quarters— he is destined to lose!

You gypsy singers, make some raw cries!
Call in the crows to fly over the plowed fields.
I want the beating palms to cry out for Sam
son.

I want rough voices and shouting women
To cry out against the blinding of Samson.
I will always cry— take away those knives!

Isn't it enough that the Evening Star sets every night
And lovemaking ends at dawn? Please, God, help
The human beings, for men are coming to blind Samson.

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