Chennai’s old trees
Image: Chennai in the 19th Century, by the photographers E. F. H. Wiele and Theodore Klein, official photographers to the Governor of Madras (renamed as the state of Tamil Nadu, in 1969, after the fall of the British Raj). The pictures were rescued by Harry Miller in the 1970s, Director of Photography of The Indian Express, with the help of Eric Stracey, Inspector General of Police. Desikan Krishnan, of The Hindu newspaper, named them “Vintage Vignettes” as a collection. Chen
Besant nagar
The Pink Sun Ana Paula Arendt I dwell upon a hidden road. I discovered where the Sun is born and keeps all pink things hidden, the instant that does not pass, unveiling the world with its luminosity. In the East, over the Indian Ocean, in Besant Nagar* the pink dawn of a limpid, tepid, liquid daybreak, suffusing minutes that do not wait, of people never done with passing, of people never done with yearning. Of Sun, never done with flashing, of a wet Sun, forever through me bu
Ecstasy
Ecstasy Ana Paula Arendt God once said to Saint Teresa d’Avila that His favourite deed and her highest achievement in love was staring at little bricks mortared into the wall while she was uninspired in adoration. Not her highest insights, not her bravest words, not her most sincere emotions. Just counting the little bricks bowed and bothered when she could not pray anymore. I could never understand the substance of that incomparable joy in God’s feelings, that ecstasy God sh
Private Deixis
Private deixis Ana Paula Arendt I’m stretching my body in yoga movements. Suddenly, the verses stretch too, reaching where they hit the most: The inner ground where all poems are already written. So many people in the world hide their deixis in objective speech, working hard to conceal their view –outsourcing others to express it, torn from their selves… They were punished when they expressed their inner being and they never recovered into remaining— never felt safe to argue,
The Flower Market in Kolkata
A slightly longer poem for my readers, concerning a complex issue of consciousness: belonging to another person while continuing to love. May you find peace and enjoy the read! Many thanks to the Bengali poet Rabin Ghosh, Sonali e Rone Das for their friendship, company and for the pictures. 🤗 The Flower Market in Kolkata Ana Paula Arendt* Now there is a woman who would become a woman—what she is. She longs to become herself without adversatives. Yet she must overcome what sh
Done with Stupidity
Done with Stupidity by Ana Paula Arendt* BOOK REVIEW – I believe my reader deserves a few words about Ion Parreah’s most recent book, “How Shakespeare Can Save the World: a Survival Guide Against the Apocalypse of Stupidity”. Ion Parreah is a globally acclaimed author, an experienced political actor across several countries in Africa, Oceania, the Balkans, and South America, who chose to write this new book under a pseudonym. He has experienced systems of government that work
Um basta à estupidez
Um basta à estupidez por Ana Paula Arendt* RESENHA DE LIVRO – Penso que o meu leitor merece algumas palavras sobre o livro mais recente de Ion Parreah, “ How Shakespeare Can Save the World: a Survival Guide Against the Apocalypse of Stupidity ” (em português: “Como Shakespeare Pode Salvar o Mundo: Um Guia de Sobrevivência Contra o Apocalipse da Estupidez”). Ion Parreah é um autor aclamado mundialmente, político experiente em diversos países na África, na Oceania, nos Bálcãs e
Poetry and the Poet
In Tagore’s ancestral home, Jorasanko Thakur Bari — the house where he was born and died — came the first lines of this poem, which I dedicate to him and to Victoria Ocampo, an Argentine woman he admired. Have a good read! Poetry and the Poet Ana Paula Arendt (To Rabindranath Tagore and Victoria Ocampo) Poetry is not for the poet like water around the fish— unnoticed and transparent, busy making more seafood. Poetry and the poet are more like lovers who meet, from time to tim
Faith in You
Faith in You Ana Paula Arendt I have faith that things lean toward repair— in the nightingale’s words, in the sea’s salt, in the patient grammar of the breeze, that the stones remember. Most would prefer instead belief in the argument of weapons— safety measured in explosions, as if each dispute did not hasten a clearer ruin: disaffection, and death. Man eats man, woman eats woman— violence learning its own appetite. And yet I have faith: above the thin crust our steps frac
Os Melhores poemas sobre o amor
Compartilho com os leitores e amigos os melhores poemas sobre amor de que me lembro – sem prejuízo de que venha a mudar essa lista, descobrindo novos. Claro, vou além do imortal Soneto de Camões, “O amor é fogo que arde sem se ver….; além do Soneto de Fidelidade, de Vinicius de Moraes; e além do Soneto de John Donne à esposa, o qual já trouxe e expliquei por que o considero uma obra do nível do Taj Mahal, singularíssimo. John Donne foi o poeta quem escreveu os versos que se t
