Art to death

Electa 2022-03-23 09:03:12

I heard the teacher say before that poets always create the most beautiful poems at the most painful times.
It is because life is full of unsatisfactory things that I want to achieve perfection in poetry.
I saw my own shadow in the literary grandmother. Someone once asked me, what's the point of photographing clouds and flowers all day long, isn't it the same? How could it be the same, I thought to myself. Different weather, different light, different angles, different moods, changing rapidly. They have witnessed the reincarnation of time, and they quietly stood there, watching one story after another happening around them.
[Hey, I'm not crazy. 】
I also saw my own shadow in my weak grandson. They are all raised by the elderly, and they are a little tired of being inseparable. Although he is not as rebellious as Sun Tzu, he sometimes appears impatient. It seems that he never cared about the feelings of the old man and acted recklessly. I'm sorry, but I don't know how to apologize. You can't wait until you lose to regret it.
Is the ending destined to belong to literature and art...

PS: Grandma's dress is so beautiful, elegant and quiet.

View more about Poetry reviews

Extended Reading
  • Wiley 2022-03-24 09:03:30

    Rewatch. Writing poetry and filming are both creations. When you lose your senses and face hardships, how do you return to the fresh experience to extract "poetry"? Suspended in order to achieve the phenomenon, that is, abandoning the family and respectability, clearly conforming to the rules but secretly deviating from it. It is also a self-referential, the image of jumping off the cliff clearly points out the suffering of the creators inside and outside. How can audiences outside the film appreciate poetry? Invited to join the process of "poetry" creation, rather than just seeing the signifier or the meaning refined by others.

  • Orpha 2022-03-18 09:01:07

    This miserable life, this open poetry in a hurry, one day, when you are tired, you write a poem of Enron with your hard work, and then walk out of the town and melt into the boundless wilderness. Behind you, at noon in summer, those songs carry the coolness, and the earth is still spinning like you existed.