POETRY & PHOTOGRAPHY

"AN IDEA IS A FEAT OF ASSOCIATION"

ROBERT FROST

Wir betrachteten in unserem Kurs eine Auswahl an leicht verständlichen englischen Gedichten, deren Aussagen wir mit Hilfe von unseren eigenen Schwarzweissfotografien reflektierten. Nach dem Besuch der Fotoausstellung im Photoforum des "CentrePasquArt" in Biel sammelten wir auf Streifzügen durch die Stadt Biel unser eigenes Bildmaterial und bearbeiteten es unter kundiger Leitung an der Schule für Gestaltung in Bern. Zum Einsatz kamen gewöhnliche Kleinbild-Kameras (nicht APS). Ziel des Kurses war eine kleine Ausstellung illustrierter Gedichte, welche die Besucherinnen inhaltlich und formal das Thema des Gegensatzes erkennen liessen.

Kursleitung: Sandro Fiscalini und Mike Schläfli
Vom Index aus gelangst Du zu den einzelnen Gedichten. Die Bilder sind hier lediglich in einer kleinen Ausgabe wiedergegeben. Mit einem Klick in den Titel des jeweiligen Gedichtes wird über diesem Fenster eine Seite geladen, auf der die Bilder zusammen mit dem Gedicht mehr oder weniger genau nach dem Originallayout reproduziert wurden. Auch diese Bilder sind aber 50% verkleinert, was einem Viertel der Originalbildfläche entspricht. Ich habe mir zudem erlaubt, die Bilder am Computer geringfügig nachzubearbeiten. Die verschiedenen Schriften der Originalplakate konnten nicht berücksichtigt werden. Nun aber: viel Spass und Musse bei "poetry and Photography". (vk)
Index

New York

Trees

An Epitaph

Lights Out

Days

I Can Trust

When I Am Dead

For Anne

Epitaph On A Tyrant

On A Wedding Anniversary

How Doth The Little Crocodile

A Thousand Years

The Sick Rose

Flowers

The Mother's Song

The Garden Of Love

Mors et Vita

New York

My city, my beloved, my white! Ah, slender,
Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a
soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me!


Now do I know that I am mad,
For here are a million people surly with traffic;
This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.

My city, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed.
Listen to me, attend me!
Ond I will breathe into thee a soul
and thou shalt live for ev

Erza Pound

Trees

For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden

I think that I should never see
A poem lovely as a tree

A tree whos hungry mouth is presst
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimatly lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree

Joyce Kilmer

An Epitaph

Here lies a most beautiful lady,
Light of step and heart was she;
I think she was the most beautiful lady
That ever was in the West Counry.

But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
However rare - rare it be;
And when I crumble, who will remember
This lady of the West Country?

Walter de la Mare

Lights Out

We're allowed to talk for ten minutes
about what has happened during the day,
then we have to go to sleep.
It doesn't matter what we dream about.

Hugo Williams

Days

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Philipp Larkin

I Can Trust

I can not see why trials come,
and sorrows follow thick and fast;
I can not fathom His designs,
Nor why my pleasures can not last,
Nor why my hopes so soon are dust,
But, I con trust.

When the darkest clouds my sky o'er hang,
And sadness seems to fill the land,
I calmly trust His promise sweet,
And cling to His ne'er failing hand,
And, in life’s darkest hour, I'll just
Look up and trust.

I know my life with Him is safe,
And all things still must work for good
To those who love and serve our God,
And lean on Him as children should,
Though hopes decay and turn to dust,
I still will trust.

Daniel Webster Davis

When I Am Dead

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

For Anne

With Annie gone,
Whose eyes to compare
with the morning sun?

Not that I did compare,
But I do compare
Now that she’s gone.

Leonard Cohen

Epitaph On A Tyrant

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 llaughed, respectable senators
burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children
died in the streets.

W. H. Auden

On A Wedding Anniversary

The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.

Now their love lies a loss
And love and his patients roar on a chain;
From every true or crater
Carrying cloud, death strikes their house.

Too late in the wrong rain
They come together whom their love parted:
The windows powr into their heart
And the doors burn in their brain.

Dylan Thomas

How Doth The Little Crocodile

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

Lewis Carroll

A Thousand Years

A thousand years, you said,
As our hearts melted.
I look at the hand you held,
and the ache is hard to bear.

Lady Hegury

The Sick Rose

O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Flowers

Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed.
Or you had doubts-
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly.
You thought
I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.

Wendy Cope

The Mother's Song

It is so still in the house.
There’s a calm in the house;
The snowstorm wails out there,
And the dogs are rolled up with snouts under the tail.

My little boy is sleeping on the ledge,
On his back he lies, breathing through his open mouth.
His little stomach is bulging round-
It is strange if I start to cry with joy?

The Garden Of Love

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.



And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And "Thou shalt not” writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore;


And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers shoud be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

William Blake

Mors Et Vita

Into the soil a seed in sown,
Out of the soul a song is wrung,
Out of the shell a pearl is gone,
Out of the cage a bird is flown,
Out of the body, a soul!

Unto a tree the seed is grown,
Wide in the world the song is sung,
The pearl in a necklace gleams more fair,
The bird is flown to a sweeter air,
And death is half and live is half,
And the two make up the whole!


Ol’ Doc’ Hyar