tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-163991822024-03-07T15:47:57.474+11:00Tjipoetat QuillPoetry Workshop & NurseryNadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.comBlogger187125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-47203991660284250462011-12-29T11:06:00.000+11:002016-01-07T04:52:43.574+11:00Padlocks on the Sea Cliff Bridge<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyPkbqFQKzAQPuO2wMy65LaZqmxmZPMPX-A73No2yPLCwG7aqYslD8UJ8FYfFhlsQUtEwYVDRa5nSTg1NX1GebaIvHLlQM4eKL1Yuhnl3ttEGabWcFNQdObgbbWl4EVLx-g/s1600/DSCN0167+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyPkbqFQKzAQPuO2wMy65LaZqmxmZPMPX-A73No2yPLCwG7aqYslD8UJ8FYfFhlsQUtEwYVDRa5nSTg1NX1GebaIvHLlQM4eKL1Yuhnl3ttEGabWcFNQdObgbbWl4EVLx-g/s400/DSCN0167+-+Copy.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We stopped to freeze
some moments<br />upon this serpentine’s
steely pavement</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">(where a Fay and a John, a Janet and her
Jason, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">and hundreds of other
couples later on—</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">locked padlocks to
the railing,<br />
and threw the keys into the sea roaring);</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIWHMYqP3Qcsp2yb5lkiaPCUNboFwrok2IPzBz9U7-kz8APX1aP6Z9XpwkuURHpH-6JRA1jQXMNUYVeD22qg74wcW3ho9uhIS8HXIzbp84tkGvnLyIQvA4GOrlP3yx8-Tlw/s1600/DSCN0166+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIWHMYqP3Qcsp2yb5lkiaPCUNboFwrok2IPzBz9U7-kz8APX1aP6Z9XpwkuURHpH-6JRA1jQXMNUYVeD22qg74wcW3ho9uhIS8HXIzbp84tkGvnLyIQvA4GOrlP3yx8-Tlw/s400/DSCN0166+-+Copy.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">We stooped to throw a gaze at the distant </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">horizon, memories unchained </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">slithering from a time ancient </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">when we vowed to
exchange passkeys </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">to our otherwise padlocked
hearts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">-- Wollongong 27/12/2011</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-91366689930973478552011-12-26T00:27:00.002+11:002011-12-27T00:30:30.337+11:00Beauty needs<span class="quote">Beauty needs no justification but it does need at least one beholder.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-50397777723687039622011-12-25T00:31:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:31:56.680+11:00A thing of joy<span class="quote">A thing of joy is a beauty forever.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-6288567496824275472011-12-25T00:26:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:27:41.217+11:00Happiness<span class="quote">1) Happiness needs company.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="quote"> 2) Happiness is a simple place once we get there. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-61637705099511632252011-12-23T00:23:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:24:13.275+11:00Despite what<span class="quote">Despite what they believe to the contrary, war is what lies between two peaceful commas.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-62225617688920152852011-12-22T00:28:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:29:49.317+11:00Lying requires<span class="quote">Lying requires one to remember.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-49582276711894531412011-12-22T00:21:00.002+11:002011-12-27T00:22:42.559+11:00AlwaysAlways doesn’t exist.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-56610094291033219942011-12-21T00:20:00.001+11:002011-12-27T00:23:00.254+11:00Money<span class="quote">Money unowned can’t be saved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-92113927642965958132011-12-20T00:19:00.001+11:002011-12-27T00:23:26.703+11:00Hey, your<span class="quote">Hey, your coffee’s colding!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-10764050249729657402011-12-19T00:25:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:26:10.289+11:00Marry didn't<span class="quote">Mary didn’t have a lamb; Garry did. (And he still has it!)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-38821490265834759272011-12-18T00:32:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:33:02.926+11:00Whatever isn'tWhatever isn’t made in China, is overpriced.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-40480257577979138052011-12-18T00:30:00.000+11:002011-12-27T00:31:13.553+11:00The grass on<span class="quote">The grass on the other side isn’t always greener.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-81824609173807952562009-06-14T09:43:00.022+10:002010-10-08T22:27:35.443+11:00Of Healing and Cleaning(To K.)<br />
<br />
Agony, suffering <br />
Or stuff of this sort will<br />
One day remind you of the dirt <br />
We're paid to clean, buddy:<br />
<br />
Never wanted, <br />
Always avoided, we know<br />
It just as it is.<br />
<br />
Healing is akin to cleaning;<br />
For both seem as necessary <br />
As eventually futile.<br />
<br />
That dirt transporting <br />
is neither about hiding, <br />
postponing nor surrendering: <br />
<br />
It may be more about accepting,<br />
Where a spot is all needed<br />
In your heart to contain it.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-70637484006121496572009-06-14T09:40:00.003+10:002011-03-29T18:20:29.619+11:00Weston Creek, One Morning(Canberra Poems)<br />
<br />
The sound of crickets<br />
beneath a gum tree <br />
this wee morning<br />
<br />
might not be the last <br />
goodbye song for <br />
Autum, yet.<br />
<br />
Winter, an unwanted <br />
gift from somewhere,<br />
will arrive.<br />
<br />
Soon.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-55981874401008626912008-10-01T02:46:00.003+10:002008-10-02T01:31:25.015+10:00Eid Mubarakto err is human<br />but no less so <br />is to forgive <br /><br />to beseech <br />or beget mercy <br />deeds often suffice <br /><br />yet instances also exist <br />when words alone <br />can do the service<br /><br />Eid mubarak,<br />may upon you <br />be peace<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-72550655160235667212008-09-07T00:57:00.008+10:002008-09-18T01:45:24.735+10:00Motsy ChininaOnce at least in a life time<br />each one of us has a moment <br />like my own Motsy Chinina: <br /><br />A blinding supernova <br />so dazzling it be <br /><br />Too brief to talk about<br />too great to disregard<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-37939989007831701912008-08-28T02:20:00.006+10:002008-09-11T01:09:47.532+10:00Frost Too Would Agree<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6CnXsK-WAikR4rEg27WlUvMg9dvd4f2uZXngMM9bPjT0Tscqp-UmF4T2uyqbKwb1KZVZzsZ4MpFZX_ZPvXHP4uxUfRTbYin8fLvljZnJAoJJMHeLWKQMRKcPfQykhWf0ew/s1600-h/100px-RobertFrost.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6CnXsK-WAikR4rEg27WlUvMg9dvd4f2uZXngMM9bPjT0Tscqp-UmF4T2uyqbKwb1KZVZzsZ4MpFZX_ZPvXHP4uxUfRTbYin8fLvljZnJAoJJMHeLWKQMRKcPfQykhWf0ew/s400/100px-RobertFrost.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239235016507675778" /></a><br /><br />And in four words <br />I can sum up <br />all the things I’ve <br />learned about 'em people: <br />they mostly go left.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-80881154223997673372008-08-20T01:17:00.005+10:002008-08-26T10:51:24.100+10:00The Ballad of Kiai Banjar and KalamaIn the little wood near his <span style="font-style:italic;">lebak</span><br />He would notice the <span style="font-style:italic;">trembesi </span>tree<br />That had amazed him with its height <br />As well as its noiseless majesty. <br />Yet one day amidst the drizzles<br />Homecoming from tending padi<br />Kiai Banjar of Tanjung Beringin<br />Brought down the handsome tree,<br />So sudden as the little sprinkles.<br /><br />The planks he shaped with his hands,<br />Were tucked in neatly under his bed; <br />His wife Kalama did not understand <br />Whatever was in his husband’s head, <br />She but found him later bed ridden, <br />A devoted husband, father of seven, <br />Due to an illness that knew no cure. <br />Thus she gave him the best treatment<br />Some would’ve called a self-torture.<br /><br />The six years’ stroke his husband had<br />Stopped all his agonies in this world.<br />And the hamlet known for its quiet <br />Grew hectic arranging the final rite.<br />All set, Kalama stood by watching <br />Her four sons shouldering the coffin:<br />A finest wooden chest of <span style="font-style:italic;">trembesi</span>,<br />By the good man who was inside it, <br />Was too beautiful for a life’s irony. <br /><br />When the ultimate ritual was over,<br />Kalama caught up with lost slumber <br />Like a log, in her lonely chamber.<br />When awakened, she could but suffer<br />From a loss no one could decipher<br />No soul would hear much from her.<br />The news transporting both us here <br />Me and my mother saw her whimper,<br />As any child would, at a dead brother. <br /><br />(Tj. Beringin, 2007)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-2216498968491388092008-08-15T16:24:00.002+10:002008-08-15T16:50:48.147+10:00The MobIn the land of the blind<br />the one eyed man was king<br /><br />And so the story goes <br />rehearsed told and repeated<br /><br />Whereas in our land of the blind <br />the leaders they deserve get elected <br />the one-eyed odd and disregarded<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-15337750391952302312008-08-15T14:59:00.002+10:002008-08-15T16:11:51.318+10:00Untitled<span style="font-style:italic;">(to: a. kiarostami)</span><br /><br />the wind that blew <br />your clothes <br />on the clothesline<br />that day <br /><br />knows the pain <br />that discloses<br />the budding rose <br />petal by petal<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-80916479617506445672008-08-15T02:15:00.003+10:002008-08-15T14:47:11.041+10:00and godis that <br />that whispers within <br />that what’s right is right<br />and what isn’t<br />is not<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-3251716854193559272008-07-31T02:08:00.008+10:002008-08-02T01:27:19.944+10:00August AugustAugust always has its peculiar way to astound:<br />by which half the year closes as she comes down <br />perchance half my life, too, this time it seals <br />and my half-baked plans suffice to match a hill <br /><br />(This time I'll cling to the last seconds of July <br />and hide behind the doorway just to await awhile<br />when August arrives, quietly tiptoeing the dark,<br />she'll find herself thrilled at my august hug!)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-31556689135967920782008-05-15T01:15:00.004+10:002008-05-17T14:43:32.398+10:00a piece of thought1/<br /><br />thoughts aren’t your pets ever<br />taught to come by at willpower<br />they are butterflies wild rather<br />that may arrive for your nectar<br /><br />2/<br /><br />thoughts are creatures feral and free<br />which rest low on leaves of grass gaily<br />or feel home high on the loftiest tree<br /><br />though some may seem meek and docile<br />none can be owned by any known mortal<br /><br />hunters submit to seduction of all ages<br />to enslave them through high education<br /><br />gardeners who with cohabitation suffice<br />send out their love with floral invitation<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-80807853909818774622008-05-09T16:18:00.011+10:002008-05-15T01:23:16.027+10:00KissesThis template is sure kissing me again! I first used it about 2 years ago when still under the classic Blogger. I wonder why the creator named this very template: <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Kiss</span>. In any case I'm sticking with it, maybe for good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwhnFeTZqTUjpAPXHqHHkM9euvXt8wVDYRcZ4ev_CYh3RZfvccalLgmRpX8N5Sdktd34bGVSiY0GmVl0P_KfVyU0byOadGUlvLdrCpexjON2jYPrZInJJS9V2m56IeHPxOQ/s1600-h/before-dawn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 75px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwhnFeTZqTUjpAPXHqHHkM9euvXt8wVDYRcZ4ev_CYh3RZfvccalLgmRpX8N5Sdktd34bGVSiY0GmVl0P_KfVyU0byOadGUlvLdrCpexjON2jYPrZInJJS9V2m56IeHPxOQ/s200/before-dawn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198578597533788642" border="0" /></a>Imma bought me a latest poetry book by SDD last week: <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Before Dawn</span>, a beautiful book--both physically and literarily. I should thank her with 2 looong kisses. One for the book, the other for rekindling my passions. For poetry and her.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16399182.post-79180412780473185252008-02-20T02:23:00.008+11:002008-05-09T17:57:57.563+10:00Tato Ted Kooser<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDR75sH6N2VMNEoPcJotg-g1vyqpcQ56f7lZ2oKYV5SzfKrauFM6Ha0HTl1Nzr5wmCXmT7DdTe5n_qk70bxjYHMbhy2HtANaytMgS6ZfffN9tXChuL0k2MFAv5suT1GiACA/s1600-h/Kooser.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDR75sH6N2VMNEoPcJotg-g1vyqpcQ56f7lZ2oKYV5SzfKrauFM6Ha0HTl1Nzr5wmCXmT7DdTe5n_qk70bxjYHMbhy2HtANaytMgS6ZfffN9tXChuL0k2MFAv5suT1GiACA/s200/Kooser.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168715673951972818" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ted Kooser</span> (l. di Ames, Iowa thn 1939), pengarang 10 buku kumpulan puisi, termasuk <span style="font-style:italic;">Delights & Shadows</span> (Copper Canyon, 2004); <span style="font-style:italic;">Winter Morning Walks: One Hundred Postcards to Jim Harrison </span>(2000);<span style="font-style:italic;"> Weather Central </span>(1994); <span style="font-style:italic;">One World at a Time </span>(1985); dan <span style="font-style:italic;">Sure Signs<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> (Pittsburgh, 1980), pada tahun 2004 diangkat oleh Library of Congress sebagai poet laureate ke-13 di bidang Puisi. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">T A T O</span><br /><br />Apa yang dulu diniatkan sebagai pernyataan –<br />sebilah belati bercucur darah di sekepal<br />hati yang gemetar – kini cuma sebentuk memar <br />di bahunya yang kerontang renta, <br />di mana kejumawaan pernah menghantamnya, <br />menghunjam perih yang panjang. <br />Dulu ia sosok orang yang mesti <br />kau perhitungkan: kuat, tangkas lagi<br />beringas, bagai kuda jantan. Tapi di pagi <br />yang dingin ini, waktu ia melewati meja-meja <br />di pasar kaget, berkaus hitam ketat <br />dengan gulungan lengan yang memamerkan <br />jati dirinya nun pada suatu ketika, <br />ia tak lebih dari seorang lelaki tua <br />yang sedang mereka-reka barang loakan, <br />lalu meletakkannya kembali;<br />hatinya telah lembek dan biru, didera cerita.<br /> <br />(Dari <span style="font-style:italic;">Delights & Shadows</span>, Copper Canyon Press, 2004. Terjemahan TQ, 2008.)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Tjipoetat Quill's Poetry Workshop and Nursery</div>Nadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08330159031089496877noreply@blogger.com0