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VersoEmVersos (@versoemversos) • Fotos e vídeos do Instagram

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versoemversos 208 publicações 2.327 seguidores seguindo 7.517 VersoEmVersos Sarau www.versoemversos.com.br

Contato – Cooperifa

Sarau da Cooperifa Todas as terças-feiras das 20h30 às 22h30 Bar do Zé Batidão R. Bartolomeu dos Santos, 797 – Jardim Guaruja – Periferia, São Paulo/ SP facebook.com/cooperifaoficial instagram.com/cooperifa.oficial cooperifa@gmail.com

Verso em Versos - Página inicial | Facebook

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SobreVer tudo Highlights info row image 11 981926297 Highlights info row image www.versoemversos.com.br Highlights info row image Comunidade Highlights info row image Declaração de autoria

Nadia Gal Stabile (@stabilenadia) • Fotos e vídeos do Instagram

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stabilenadia 3.175 publicações 1.565 seguidores seguindo 5.860 Nadia Gal Stabile #digitalart #cibergrafite #arte #nadiagalstabile - #surfacedesign - #patterndesign #sãopaulo @nadia.stabile contato: nadiagalst@gmail.com nadiagalstabiledesigner.weebly.com

There Was A Saviour Poem by Dylan Thomas - Poem Hunter

poet Dylan Thomas #25 on top 500 poets Poet's Page Poems Quotes Comments Stats E-Books Biography Videos Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Poems by Dylan Thomas : 85 / 100 « prev. poem next poem » There Was A Saviour - Poem by Dylan Thomas Autoplay next video There was a saviour Rarer than radium, Commoner than water, crueller than truth; Children kept from the sun Assembled at his tongue To hear the golden note turn in a groove, Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles. The voice of children says From a lost wilderness There was calm to be done in his safe unrest, When hindering man hurt Man, animal, or bird We hid our fears in that murdering breath, Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud, In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout. There was glory to hear In the churches of his tears, Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck, O you who could not cry On to the ground when a man died Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell: Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself. Two proud, blacked brothers cry, Winter-locked side by side, To this inhospitable hollow year, O we who could not stir One lean sigh when we heard Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall Now break a giant tear for the little known fall, For the drooping of homes That did not nurse our bones, Brave deaths of only ones but never found, Now see, alone in us, Our own true strangers' dust Ride through the doors of our unentered house. Exiled in us we arouse the soft, Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks. Dylan Thomas

Menino Experimental | Sibila

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Menino Experimental Murilo Mendes | 27 mar 2014 | Poemas O menino experimental come as nádegas da avó e atira os ossos ao cachorro. O menino experimental futuro inquisidor devora o livro e soletra o serrote. O menino experimental não anda nas nuvens. Sabe escolher seus objetos. Adora a corda, o revólver, a tesoura, o martelo, o serrote, a torquês. Dança com eles. Conversa-os. O menino experimental ateia fogo ao santuário para testar a competência dos bombeiros. O menino experimental, declarando superado o manual de 1962, corrige o professor de fenomenologia. O menino experimental confessa-se ateu e à toa. O menino experimental é desmamado no primeiro dia. Despreza Rômulo e Remo. Acha a loba uma galinha. No oco do pré natal gritava: “Champanha, mamãe! Depressa!” O menino experimental decreta a alienação de Aristóteles. Expulsa-o da sua zona, com a roupa do corpo e amordaçado. O menino experimental repele as propostas da prima de dezoito anos, chamando-a de bisavó. O menino experimental, escondendo os pincéis do pintor, e trancando-o no vaso sanitário, obriga-o a fundar a pop art, única saída do impasse. O menino experimental ensina a vamp a amar. Dorme com o radar debaixo da cama. O menino experimental, dos animais só admite o tigre e o piloto de bombardeiro. Deixa o cão mesmo feroz e o piloto civil às pulgas. O menino experimental benze o relâmpago. O menino experimental antefilma o acontecimento agressivo, o Apocalipse, fato do dia. O menino experimental festeja seu terceiro aniversário convidando Jean Genet e Sofia Loren para jantar. Espetados na mesa três punhais acesos. O menino experimental despede a televisão, “brinquedo para analfabetos, surdos, mudos, doentes, antinietzsches, padres podres e croulants”. O menino experimental atira uma granada em forma de falo na mãe de Cristovão Colombo, sepultando as Américas. (Publicado originalmente em Poliedro − Roma, 1965/66, Rio de Janeiro, José Olympio, 1972)

Arthur Rimbaud – Wikipédia, a enciclopédia livre

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Arthur Rimbaud Origem: Wikipédia, a enciclopédia livre. Question book-4.svg Esta página ou secção cita fontes fiáveis e independentes, mas que não cobrem todo o conteúdo, o que compromete a verificabilidade (desde abril de 2010). Por favor, insira mais referências no texto. Material sem fontes poderá ser removido. —Encontre fontes: Google (notícias, livros e acadêmico) Arthur Rimbaud Carjat Arthur Rimbaud 1872 n2.jpg Rimbaud aos 17 anos, retratado por Étienne Carjat, provavelmente em dezembro de 1871 Nome completo Jean-Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud Nascimento 20 de outubro de 1854 Morte 10 de novembro de 1891 (37 anos) Nacionalidade França Francês Influências Lista [Expandir] Influenciados Lista [Expandir] Gênero literário Romance e Drama Movimento literário Simbolismo Magnum opus Uma Temporada no Inferno Jean-Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (Charleville, 20 de outubro de 1854 — Marselha, 10 de novembro de 1891) foi um poeta francês.[1] Produziu suas obras mais famosas quando ainda era adolescente sendo descrito por Paul James, à época, como "um jovem Shakespeare". Como parte do movimento decadente, Rimbaud influenciou a literatura, a música e a arte modernas. Era conhecido por sua fama de libertino e por uma alma inquieta, viajando de forma intensiva por três continentes antes de morrer de câncer aos 37 anos de idad

Eliot T.S. / Томас С Элиот- The Waste Land / Бесплодная земля [Michael Scott, 2006, 57 кбит/сек] :: RuTracker.org

The Waste Land / Бесплодная земля pic Год выпуска: 2006 Автор: T.S. Eliot / Томас Стернз Элиот Исполнитель: Michael Scott Жанр: поэма Издательство: ThoughtAudio.com Язык: Английский Тип: аудиокнига Аудио кодек: MP3 Битрейт аудио: 57 кбит/сек Описание: The Waste Land is a highly influential and controversial 433-line modernist poem written by T. S. Eliot. It is perhaps the most famous and most written-about long poem of the 20th century, detailing the journey of the human soul searching for redemption, the decline of civilization and the impossibility of recovering meaning in life. Despite the alleged obscurity of the poem—its shifts between satire and prophecy, its abrupt and unannounced changes of speaker, location and time, its elegiac but intimidating summoning up of a vast and dissonant range of cultures and literatures—the poem has nonetheless become a familiar touchstone of modern literature. В 1922 г. Элиот опубликовал поэму «Бесплодная земля» («The Waste Land»), которую его друг и наставник Эзра Паунд назвал «самой длинной поэмой, когда-либо написанной на английском языке». Она представляет собой нечто вроде завещания отчаявшегося и разуверившегося во всем человека и строится как череда мысленных картин или грез, сменяющих друг друга в сознании главного персонажа (Тиресия) и пронизанных смутным желанием обрести внутренний мир. Поэма заканчивается призывом к смирению, который герой обращает к самому себе. Литературные и мифологические аллюзии укрупняют эпизоды поэмы и придают им ироничное звучание. Поэма была воспринята как приговор послевоенной европейской культуре и выражение разочарования в расхожих общественных идеалах. Доп. информация: TS ELIOT http://i9.fastpic.ru/big/2010/0814/74/2e964d84922cfde6a28c66f6c0b16574.jpg Thomas Stearns Eliot was one of the most distinguished literary figures of the 20th century, winning the 1948 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry". Although born in Missouri and attending Harvard, he lived most of his life in England. Eliot, while on a three month leave in the coastal resort of Margate for a period of convalescence possibly showed an early version of the poem to Ezra Pound. A year later Eliot had produced a 19-page version of the poem and Pound then made detailed editorial comments and significant cuts to the manuscript. Eliot dedicated the poem to Pound, referring to him as "il miglior fabbro", Italian for "the better craftsman."

Epitaph on a Tyrant by W. H. Auden - Poems | Academy of American Poets

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Epitaph on a Tyrant W. H. Auden, 1907 - 1973 Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand, And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

William Carlos Williams - William Carlos Williams Poems - Poem Hunter

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William Carlos Williams William Carlos Williams (17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963 / New Jersey)

Dylan Thomas - Dylan Thomas Poems - Poem Hunter

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Dylan Thomas Dylan Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

2010

Casa das Rosas

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Bem-vindo ao site da Casa das Rosas A Casa das Rosas - Espaço Haroldo de Campos de Poesia e Literatura - é um local de celebração da poesia, da literatura e da arte em geral. Localizada no coração de São Paulo, a Casa serve de cenário para a efervescência da vida cultural, sendo um espaço onde a arte literalmente acontece. Leia mais

Confined Love by John Donne

Confined Love Some man unworthy to be possessor Of old or new love, himself being false or weak, Thought his pain and shame would be lesser If on womankind he might his anger wreak, And thence a law did grow, One might but one man know; But are other creatures so? Are Sun, Moon, or Stars by law forbidden To smile where they list, or lend away their light? Are birds divorced, or are they chidden If they leave their mate, or lie abroad a-night? Beasts do no jointures lose Though they new lovers choose, But we are made worse than those. Who e'er rigged fair ship to lie in harbours And not to seek new lands, or not to deal withal? Or built fair houses, set trees, and arbors, Only to lock up, or else to let them fall? Good is not good unless A thousand it possess, But dost waste with greediness. John Donne

A Broken Appointment by Thomas Hardy

You did not come, And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb. Yet less for loss of your dear presence there Than that I thus found lacking in your make That high compassion which can overbear Reluctance for pure lovingkindness' sake Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum, You did not come. You love not me, And love alone can lend you loyalty; -I know and knew it. But, unto the store Of human deeds divine in all but name, Was it not worth a little hour or more To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be You love not me. A Broken Appointment Thomas Hardy (1840-1928 / Dorchester / England)

Poet: Thomas Hardy - All poems of Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928 / Dorchester / England) Biography Poems Quotations Comments More Info Stats

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