something music other stuff something

[bronek-dan]

One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still.

[drawpaintprint]

Leonard Baskin (1922-2000): Burgeoning Phoenix (Date Unknown) Watercolor

[dentsdelion]

J.M.W. Turner, The Angel Standing in the Sun, 1846

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

huron carol written in what is now canada by brebeuf for the hurons -- t this is an amazing rendition of a lesser known christmas carol 

[bronek-dan]

krupnik night 

[lamus-dworski]

Bird of Paradise. Traditional wycinanka (papercut artwork) from Poland. Image via Dziedzictwo dla Przyszłości.

[wetreesinart]

Charles L’Eplattenier (Suisse, 1874-1946), Sous-bois (fin d’hiver), 1906, huile sur toile

[polish-vintage]

Planty. Kraków, 1961 rok. | źródło: CracoviaVintage

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

You write poems

because you need

a place

where what isn’t may be

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

[bronek-dan]

                              The little hedgerow birds, That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves With thought---He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet: he is one by whom All effort seems forgotten, one to whom Long patience has such mild composure given, That patience now doth seem a thing of which He hath no need. He is by nature led To peace so perfect, that the young behold With envy, what the old man hardly feels. --I asked him whither he was bound, and what The object of his journey; he replied Sir! I am going many miles to take A last leave of my son, a mariner, Who from a sea-fight has been brought to Falmouth And there is dying in an hospital.

[bronek-dan]