Saturday 29 August 2009

The Art Of Disappearing




















Coffee Break
28 August 2008
Leopoldstadt
2nd District

Images photographed
and composed
© by Merisi


"The Art Of Disappearing"
is the title of a poem
by Naomi Shihab Nye

17 comments:

  1. .

    The Art of Disappearing

    When they say Don't I know you?
    say no.

    When they invite you to the party
    remember what parties are like
    before answering.
    Someone telling you in a loud voice
    they once wrote a poem.
    Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
    Then reply.

    If they say we should get together.
    say why?

    It's not that you don't love them any more.
    You're trying to remember something
    too important to forget.
    Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
    Tell them you have a new project.
    It will never be finished.

    When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
    nod briefly and become a cabbage.
    When someone you haven't seen in ten years
    appears at the door,
    don't start singing him all your new songs.
    You will never catch up.

    Walk around feeling like a leaf.
    Know you could tumble any second.
    Then decide what to do with your time.

    Published in
    “Words Under The Words” by Naomi SHIHAB NYE,
    The Eighth Mountain Press – A Far Corner Book
    Portland, Oregon 1995

    *

    Thank you for visiting
    and a wonderful weekend
    to all of you,
    Merisi

    .

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  2. This was a very enchanting visit Mersi!! :)

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  3. Wow, that was very thought provoking. You have an eye for beauty with words and camera. I hope you will do more writing! You know how to choose writers that make us all think!

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  4. What a sinewy connection between the pictures and the poem. Thanks for both.

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  5. Love the sequence of pictures, and the sequence of thought.

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  6. This series of photos made me stop and study them, going up and down to see them yet again....and wondering what the conference is about among the three staff... Noticing the plants in the windows straining up towards the light...the gentleman in the dark shirt and sunglasses becomes someone else in white shirtsleeves...

    I have a volume of Naomi Shihab Nye's poems...must get that out and read it again. "19 Varieties of Gazelle" all about the Middle East.

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  7. A wonderful photographic vignette -- and a wonderful poem to go with it. I love Naomi Shihab Nye's poetry!

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  8. Dearest Merisi!!! Thank you for stopping by, and leaving your smile!!! I love and miss you!!! But I plan to return to blogging very soon, and sit down for a long cup of cappuccino with you! This is a fabulous photo story...it's absolutely brilliant the way you capture the movement of the cafe patron, and the others...and I love Nye's poem! Have a wonderful weekend, my dear friend...Janine XO

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  9. Merisi, splendid, and perhaps even more splendid, are these posts of yours.

    I will seek out Ms. Nye's poetry. I do thank you for the introduction. I always also thank you for reminding me of just how beautiful a moment, or several moments in a cafe, or perhaps another cafe, might be.

    Best wishes. xo

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  10. gorgeous, and now I'm even more homesick!

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  11. Good morning, dear Readers!

    It makes me so happy to see that you enjoy my little picture story, sheer serendipity that I captured it (the artists among you will recognize that urge to try new ways to create - unable to use a brush, I make do and try to paint with the camera).

    So wonderful to see also that some of you already know the poet Naomi Shihab Nye and that others will look for her poem collections.

    I discovered her some years ago thanks to an issue of O (Oprah Magazine), and have counted her among my favorite poets every since.

    A Happy Sunday
    to all of you,
    cheers,
    Merisi

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  12. After read this poem I, too, feel compelled to read more. :)

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  13. "Time present and time past. Are both perhaps present in time future". The very essence of Vienna?

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  14. Just too, too much and so clever...what a trip....

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  15. A wonderful composition of pictures. Lots to imagine.

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