Showing posts with label illustrators. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illustrators. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Alan Sillitoe...Poem
Alan Sillitoe, 4 March 1928 – 25 April 2010.
Hannes Bok
sonnet: love
Love is not to be sought and known
When a mere comet-flash means dark
Oncoming doom. Who seek Love stand alone--
(Do not dream what visitations mark
(Do not dream what visitations mark
The final pain of procreative world,
What blood-bellied moons of solstice red
Shine at myrtle-berried midnight)--are killed
In stone-cold bodies never brought to bed.
Love is antique, no fickle mind
Can satisfy it; and never Hope will gain
An entrance to loins that like a wind
Spin a black night into a wheel of pain:
Not to know, and a tiger's black and gold,
Can the vast orbit of Love's pleasure hold.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Songs of Bilitis... Willy Pogany & Pierre Louÿs...
I sing my flesh and my life...
Stay softly couched, oh, my body, according to your voluptuous mission! Taste daily joys and passions whose tomorrow never comes. Leave no pleasure unexplored, lest you regret the evening of your death....
Stay softly couched, oh, my body, according to your voluptuous mission! Taste daily joys and passions whose tomorrow never comes. Leave no pleasure unexplored, lest you regret the evening of your death....
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Devour the fire...Harry Crosby 2 Poems... illustration Alastair...
± RED SKELETONS, 1927 ±
TEMPLE DE LA DOULEUR
My soul has suffered breaking on the wheel,
Flogging with lead, and felt the twinging ache
Of barbéd hooks and jagged points of steel,
Peine forte et dure, slow burning at the stake,
Blinding and branding, stripping on the rack,
The canque and kourbash and the torquéd screw,
The boot and branks, red scourging on the back,
The gallows and the gibbet. All for you.
Flogging with lead, and felt the twinging ache
Of barbéd hooks and jagged points of steel,
Peine forte et dure, slow burning at the stake,
Blinding and branding, stripping on the rack,
The canque and kourbash and the torquéd screw,
The boot and branks, red scourging on the back,
The gallows and the gibbet. All for you.
These tortures are as nothing to the pain
That I have suffered when you gaze at me
With cold disdainful eyes. You do not deign
To smile or talk or even set me free-
Yet once you let me hold your perfumed hand
And danced with me a stately saraband.
That I have suffered when you gaze at me
With cold disdainful eyes. You do not deign
To smile or talk or even set me free-
Yet once you let me hold your perfumed hand
And danced with me a stately saraband.
SALOME
Proud panoply of fans and frankincense,
Gold blare of trumpets, flowered robes of state,
Unnumbered symbols of magnificence,
To lead Salome through the palace gate,
Where loud the prophet of the Lord blasphemes
The red abominations of her race
And chides her for her flesh-entangled dreams
and turns his back upon her painted face.
Gold blare of trumpets, flowered robes of state,
Unnumbered symbols of magnificence,
To lead Salome through the palace gate,
Where loud the prophet of the Lord blasphemes
The red abominations of her race
And chides her for her flesh-entangled dreams
and turns his back upon her painted face.
Thus do we turn from some red-shadowed lust
That through the broken forests of the brain
Weaves silently with tentacles out-thrust,
Groping in darkness, but for one in vain,
For like a sliding sun the soul has fled
Leaving a princess and a vultured head.
That through the broken forests of the brain
Weaves silently with tentacles out-thrust,
Groping in darkness, but for one in vain,
For like a sliding sun the soul has fled
Leaving a princess and a vultured head.
¤ SUN-TESTAMENT ¤
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Edgar Allan Poe by Satty...
a scan from one of my favourite books
Wilfried Satty 1976 from The Illustrated Edgar Allan Poe
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
EUGÈNE GRASSET... illustration...
Les petites faunesses.
watercolour over pen and ink, depiting two young fauns gambolling by a wooded lakeside
circa 1896
originally an illustration for the poem by Pierre Loüys, Les Petites Faunesses (The Young Girl Fauns) which appeared in the first edition of 'L'Image'. It was later printed in colour using six blocks by Eugène Froment.
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