Poetics Of The Day

 Fernando Pessoa ~ 1888–1935
Pessoa, Fernando, 1888–1935, Portuguese poet, b. Lisbon. Reflecting the influence of both the classical tradition and French symbolism, his poetry moves from saudosismo, or nostalgia for a mythic past, to an increasing concern with consciousness and sensation. He is famous for having written under 73 different names. Four of these (his own, Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, and Álvaro de Campos) are well known. Each of these personas has his own putative biography, physical characteristics, relationship to the others, poetic voice, and outlook, and in part reflects Pessoa’s disbelief in the idea of an integrated personality. Among Pessoa’s collections, which include poems in English, are Sonnets (1918), English Poems (1922), and Mensagem (1934).
“Could it think, the heart would stop beating.”
“No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it.”
“Success consists in being successful, not in having potential for success. Any wide piece of ground is the potential site of a palace, but there’s no palace till it’s built.”

4 thoughts on “Poetics Of The Day

  1. northernsea

    I Looked him up and have not heard of ‘heteronyms’ before this. In this day and age, he would probably be taken to the nut house and labelled with multiple personality disorder. Although novelists do invent histories for their characters, I have not heard of poets doing that.

  2. Poetics covers a large area…The Cantos by Ezra Pound can make you feel the same way; but exposure to All our Literature is important, and from the many different areas of our Community.

    Let’s bring out the old and new…any suggestions?

  3. northernsea

    The Lake Isle of Innisfree

    I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
    And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
    Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-
    and live alone in the bee-loud glade.

    And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes
    dropping slow,
    Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the
    cricket sings;
    There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple
    And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

    I will arise and go now, for always night and day
    I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
    While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavement
    I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

    W. B. Yeats

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