Poetry By Yulia Dmitrieva

Here are some thoughts on my favourite poets and poetry styles.

Late XIX and first part of XX century have produced a great number of poets and poetry styles. The poetry landscape was blossoming with a great variety of exotic flowers in different shapes, colours, sizes and forms.

I am enclosing extracts from some of my favourite poems in the original languages (and in case of Russian poems, in English transcription).

Symbolism was a movement that was formed in the end of XIX century, inspired by great philosophers such as Nietzsche amongst others. The poems are exquisite, mysterious, written in riddles. Block, Brusov and Baudelaire are my favourite poets representing this style. Edith Sitwell's poetry was also strongly influenced by symbolism.

Noch'. Ulitsa. Phonar'. Apteka
Bessmislenniy i tuskliy svet.
Zhivi estche khot chetvert veka
Vse budet tak. Iskhoda net.
(Alexander Block)

JANE, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again;

Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair,
Jane, Jane, come down the stair.

Each dull blunt wooden stalactite
Of rain creaks, hardened by the light,

Sounding like an overtone
From some lonely world unknown.
(Edith Sitwell)

Imagism was a movement that celebrated precision of imagery, and clear language.

Ezra Pound, Hilda Doolittle (H.D.), D.H. Lawrence are the imagists I love.

An Immorality
Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.

Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.

And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,

Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.
(Ezra Pound)

Futurists wanted to paint their picture on a blank canvas with no consideration for the past, using new materials and textures. The following Russian poets represent this movement: Khlebnikov, Mayakovsky, Severyanin.

Uverture
Ananasi v shampanskom!
Ananasi v shampanskom!
Udivitelno vkusno, iskristo, ostro!
Ves' ya v chemto norvezhskom!
Ves' ya v chemto ispanskom!
Vdokhnovl'ayus porivno! I berus' za pero!
(Igor Severyanin)

Acmeism is a Russian movement that was categorised by poets striving for "beautiful clarity" in their writing. Gumilev, Akhmatova, Mandelshtam are my favourite poets acmeists.

Another Russian movement that I love is called new-peasant movement. In my opinion, it is best represented by Sergey Esenin who writes about Russia better than anyone else.

Surrealist poetry in my view is best represented by David Gascoyne, Jacque Prevert, Garcia Lorca.

La noche quieta siempre
El dia va y viene

La noche muerta y alta
El dia con una ala

La noche sobre espejos
Y el dia bajo el viento
(Garcia Lorca)

Alicante
Une orange sur la table
Ta robe sur le tapis
Et toi dans mon lit
Doux présent du présent
Fraîcheur de la nuit
Chaleur de ma vie
(Jacques Prevert)

She is looking at me
No, not looking at me
She is staring, pretending
That she doesn't see

As the train, moving slowly
Taking us to the sea
I am trying to look,
I can't help it, but see:

She is going to party
All dressed up like a puppet
Bright red lipstick and handbag,
False eye lashes and tan

She is staring, pretending
To look forward to party
And I'm looking, pretending,
Not to care, not to see.

Is she sad? Is she happy?
Why the dress? And the make up?
What location? What purpose?
What is there - to see?

As the train, moving slowly
Taking us into darkness
She and I sit there, looking,
Pretending TO BE.

Eloquent - Relevant
Elegant - Arrogant
Haughty - Benevolent
Simple - Naive

Eccentric - Eclectic!
Prosaic - Poetic!
Severe - Empathetic!
Illusive - Concrete!

Miniskirts and Princess Leia
Disco fashion and Concrete
Platform shoes and Tropicana
Have you guessed quand j'etais petite?

I am a black polo neck
A friend of philosophers and the dull.
I like to stand up straight around the neck
And watch the world go slowly by.

I am a dreamer
I am a player
I am a reader
I am a spy

You call me anything
You desire
I am simply Elegance and
Style!

Take deep breath...
The concert is beginning.
First, a slightest drop of music
Slowly, ripples spread across the lake

My heart stops, and starts
Like an unprepared swimmer,
Butterflies graciously
Arrive.

I sit still, intoxicated,
Magic fills the concert hall
Music flows, precise and simple
I am quiet, I listen and observe.

Silence settles in
And Storm "Applause" arrives.
Music stopped! I am grieving
Magic leaves the hall...

It's getting cold again
September, then December
The winter starts
And autumns hasn't been

It's getting cold again
And life's not getting simpler
The winter traffic jams
The cold and chill

Come summer, come
Bring light and flowers
The drinks on terrace
And a touch of sin

It's getting cold again
I'm full of anger
Wishing away the months
And waiting for the life to begin

There is a face that you can't see
It hides the darker side of me

The tacky pink, the lollipop,
Pretentions bird that utters: "squawk!"

The ancient dungeon full of mould
The heart that's black, with touch of gold

An ugly face, Enfant terrible
That speaks clichés and mixes linguae

My friends, there is a face that you can't see
It hides the darker side of me

Where is the off switch button on my brain?
Have you seen the instruction manual?
I must have lost it.

It gets overheated day-by-day
And is getting me rather
Flustered!

If someone heard me think aloud
They would have thought I was insane.
Can someone help me to shut up my brain?!

I'm tired of thinking, thinking, thinking
I'm tired of worrying and
Regrets

Tired of dreaming, and pretences
Tired of hiding what
I don't have.

What feelings? Where are those?
What intuition?
What living in the moment's all about?

Please someone help me tame it,
Just a little
I am tired, tired of my brain.