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DTSTART;TZID=Europe/Prague:20260408T193000
DTEND;TZID=Europe/Prague:20260408T223000
DTSTAMP:20260422T122016
CREATED:20260330T074055Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20260408T143138Z
UID:11243-1775676600-1775687400@pragueliterarycalendar.com
SUMMARY:Poetry Talks Prague - A poem for redundancy
DESCRIPTION:The theme for our next meeting is Redundancy. \nWe will meet and discuss the poems below together: \nEmail: contact@pragueliterarycalendar.com\nFacebook: Post to this event page. \nSubmissions will be shared on the Prague Literary Calendar for our group to read and discuss. \nAbout Poetry Talks Prague\nPoetry Talks Prague brings people from all backgrounds together. We use poetry to find tools for the hardships of life. The discussion guides us to different directions; you do not need to be proficient in poetry\, just be curious and open. We welcome all people who respect others\, if you have any questions\, you can write to contact@pragueliterarycalendar.com \nAll feedback is welcome! \n\n\n\nGrief Lessons By Emily Skaja\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNo one stole your money.\nNo one stole your whole heart\nthen climbed into a stolen plane\nand stole away into the night\nto disappear entirely\, stealing\ndarkness itself\, then dawn.\nWhat name would you even call\ninto the shadows between\nhere and gone\, yours and no one’s\,\nwhat color could you give it\,\nthis shade of something\nslightly less than life?\nBetter to leave it whole.\nPure death—like an unmined diamond.\nKeep the light of the fire\naway from it—clean\, untempered\nby the tedious heat of language—\nsafe from your magpie\, morbid way\nof turning and turning\nyour pain in your hands\nuntil you’ve crushed it to dust.\nAnd anyway\, who are you to say\nI lost the world? No one. To admit\nthat you held the world at all?\n\n\n\n\nMock Orange By Louise Glück\n  \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIt is not the moon\, I tell you.\nIt is these flowers\nlighting the yard.\n\nI hate them.\nI hate them as I hate sex\,\nthe man’s mouth\nsealing my mouth\, the man’s\nparalyzing body—\n\nand the cry that always escapes\,\nthe low\, humiliating\npremise of union—\n\nIn my mind tonight\nI hear the question and pursuing answer\nfused in one sound\nthat mounts and mounts and then\nis split into the old selves\,\nthe tired antagonisms. Do you see?\nWe were made fools of.\nAnd the scent of mock orange\ndrifts through the window.\n\nHow can I rest?\nHow can I be content\nwhen there is still\nthat odor in the world?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCascando by Samuel Beckett\n1 \n\nwhy not merely the despaired of\noccasion of\nwordshedis it not better abort than be barrenthe hours after you are gone are so leaden\nthey will always start dragging too soon\nthe grapples clawing blindly the bed of want\nbringing up the bones the old loves\nsockets filled once with eyes like yours\nall always is it better too soon than never\nthe black want splashing their faces\nsaying again nine days never floated the loved\nnor nine months\nnor nine lives \n2 \nsaying again\nif you do not teach me I shall not learn\nsaying again there is a last\neven of last times\nlast times of begging\nlast times of loving\nof knowing not knowing pretending\na last even of last times of saying\nif you do not love me I shall not be loved\nif I do not love you I shall not love \nthe churn of stale words in the heart again\nlove love love thud of the old plunger\npestling the unalterable\nwhey of words \nterrified again\nof not loving\nof loving and not you\nof being loved and not by you\nof knowing not knowing pretending\npretending \nI and all the others that will love you\nif they love you \n3 \nunless they love you \n\n\n\n\nMarina Tsvetaeva\nYou walk\, somewhat like myself…\nYou walk\, somewhat like myself\,\nHunched\, and not looking up.\nI used to lower my eyes as well!\nStop here\, passerby\, stop!Having gathered your flowers in a\nBouquet\, read the stone by the gate —\nIt will say I was named Marina\,\nAnd I lived to the following date.It’s a grave\, but don’t treat it as such\,\nMy spirit won’t rise to haunt you…\nI\, myself\, loved laughing too much\nWhenever I wasn’t supposed to!My hair was once curled and twisted\nAnd blood used to rush to my face.\nHey\, passerby\, I also existed!\nHey\, passerby\, slow your pace!Stop here and pluck a wild stem\nAnd after that — pick this berry:\nNo berries are sweeter than\nThe ones from a cemetery.Only don’t stand there sighing\,\nAnd please do not hang your head.\nBut rather think of me lightly\nAnd afterward\, likewise\, forget.How the sun shines down upon you!\nIts rays set the dust aglow.\nAnd don’t let my voice disturb you\nAnd vex you from down below. \n\n\nto lean back into it by Charles Bukowski\n  \n\n\nlike in a chair the color of the sun\nas you listen to lazy piano music\nand the aircraft overhead are not\nat war.\nwhere the last drink is as good as\nthe first\nand you realize that the promises\nyou made yourself were\nkept.\nthat’s plenty.\nthat last: about the promises:\nwhat’s not so good is that the few\nfriends you had are\ndead and they seem\nirreplacable.\nas for women\, you didn’t know enough\nearly enough\nand you knew enough\ntoo late.\nand if more self-analysis is allowed: it’s\nnice that you turned out well-\nhoned\,\nthat you arrived late\nand remained generally\ncapable.\noutside of that\, not much to say\nexcept you can leave without\nregret.\nuntil then\, a bit more amusement\,\na bit more endurance\,\nleaning back\ninto it.\nlike the dog who got across\nthe busy street:\nnot all of it was good\nluck.\n\n 
URL:https://pragueliterarycalendar.com/calendar/poetry-talks-prague-a-poem-for-redundancy/
LOCATION:Šternberkova 1253/11\, 170 00 Praha\, Česko\, Šternberkova 1253/11\, 170 00 Praha\, Česko
CATEGORIES:Book Club,Discussion,Poetry
ORGANIZER;CN="Lydia Titterington":MAILTO:noreply@facebookmail.com
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