Poems without names.
lts not very often l wake feeling empty, but today l did.
l had two thoughts in my brain, and jotted them down...
these poems have no names.
..............................................
l have not found you yet
l use everything to take your place
l over indulge all things
where are you.
l have great passion
being wasted on superficial things and thoughts.
where are you.
...............................................................
can l stand alone with me...
do for myself?
while l know you are there
l need to be able to see if l can stand and be strong,
without my crutches in life.
as l turn u off and out for a moment
l sense a strength and freedom
l know you all are there
l need to be free.
l step out of the care bubble l have allowed myself to be in,
out of life security.
lts scary, and invigorating.
l dont mean to be mean
l dont feel meanness at all
l just want to be with me and my strengths
lf l find l cant
l know youre there.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Juana lnes de la Cruz
 | Juana Inés de la Cruz | for everyone |
| Category: | Other |
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sor_Juana
....
Sor Juana was born (November 12, 1658. Some biographers record her birth year as [1648,] – April 17, 1695).
She was known as Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, and also by her full name: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz de Asbaje (or Asuaje) y Ramírez de Santillana
Sor Juana was a self-taught Novohispana scholar, nun, poet, and a writer of the Baroque school. Though she lived in a post-conquest era when Mexico was colonized by Spain, she is considered a Mexican writer, and a precursor to later Mexican literature.
Life and Literary Production
During a time when bloodlines strictly dictated class and status, Juana de Asbaje y Ramirez Santillana began life as the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Her mother came from the small village of San Miguel de Nepantla, near Amecameca (modern-day México State). Her grandfather had acquired property there, and so Juana was raised in village life.
She was a gifted child who hid in the hacienda chapel to read her grandfather's books from the adjoining library, something forbidden to girls. She taught herself Latin before she was ten years old- and would cut off a lock of hair each time she forgot something. By adolescence, she had mastered Greek logic, and at age thirteen she was teaching Latin to young children.
In 1664, at age sixteen, Juana was sent to live in Mexico City, and came under the tutelage of the Vicerreine Leonor Carreto, wife of Antonio Sebastian de Toledo, Marquis de Mancera.
In 1667, she entered the Convent of the Discalced Carmelites of St. Joseph, but only remained there briefly. In 1669, she entered the Convent of the Order of St. Jerome where she would remain until her death.[1]
There is ongoing debate by some moderns, questioning whether she had a personal romantic life, as love is often nuanced in her poems, and her language is often a sensory and sometimes seeming ecstatic one. Coming from poetic traditions in pre-conquest Mexico wherein poetry was high art --and relationship with the gods was often spoken about in terms of erotic lyricism-- and too, with the Spanish overlay of the great Catholic saints who portrayed themselves as "lovers with God" and "brides of Christ," etc., the debate continues about whether her writings are literal or allegorical.
In her time, the convent was the only refuge in which a female could properly attend to education of her mind, spirit, body and soul. In Sor Juana's era, educating girls was not only non-existent, but often considered by Spanish prelates to be the dark work of the Devil.
Nonetheless, Sor Juana wrote literature centered on freedom. In her poem "Redondillas" she defends a woman's right to be respected as a human being. In "Hombres necios" (Stubborn men), she criticizes the sexism of the society of her time, poking fun at and revealing the hypocrisy of men who publicly condemn prostitutes, yet privately pay women to perform on them what they have just said is an abomination to God.
Sor Juana's asks the sharp question in this ages old matter of the purity/whoredom split found in base male mentality: 'Who sins more, she who sins for pay? or he who pays for sin?'
Developing her themes further, she wrote a romantic comedy entitled Los empeños de una casa about a brother and a sister entangled in webs of love, elucidating the themes of love and jealousy. She did not moralize, but rather, in the spirit of her lifetime interests, inquired of how these deeply emotional matters shaped and carved a woman's pursuit of liberty, knowledge, education and freedom to live her life in self-sovereignty.
Her independent thinking alarmed and angered the oligarchy of the Roman Catholic Church, for it sawed away at the fundamental idea that women are to serve and not to think; they are to be unpaid or lowly adjuncts to princes of the Church and Spanish royalty. Her 'thinking out loud' was especially dangerous because the Counter Reformation was raging. Anyone who challenged societal values and ecclesiastical dogma could be marked by the Church as a heretic, and thereby harmed by the Church bearing false witness against the person; by the Church silencing them; forcing them into penitence, or else stripping them of property and assets, including those of one's family; they could be tortured, exiled, imprisoned or murdered.
Matters came to a head in 1690, when a letter was published attacking Sor Juana's focus on the sciences, and suggesting that she should devote her time to soft theology.
However, powerful representatives from the Spanish court were her mentors and she was widely read in Spain, being called "the Tenth Muse." She was lauded as the most prominent poet of the post-conquest American Continent. Her work was printed by the first printing press of the American Continent in Mexico City.
In response to clergy who sought to reprimand her, Sor Juana wrote a letter entitled Respuesta a Sor Filotea (Reply to Sister Filotea,) in which she defended women's right to any education they desired. The Catholic Church, via the Archbishop of Mexico joined other high-ranking officials in condemning Sor Juana's "waywardness."
By 1693, Sor Juana seemingly ceased writing rather than risk further Church censure. However, there is no undisputed evidence of her renouncing devotion to letters, though there are documents showing her agreeing to self-humiliation. Her name is affixed to such a document in 1694, but given her deep natural lyricism, the tone of these supposed hand-written penitentials is rhetorical and autocratic Church formulae- one signed, "Yo, la peor de todas" (I, the worst of all).
She is said to have sold all her books then, an extensive library of over 4,000 volumes... her musical and scientific instruments as well. According to some investigators, her books of her own works were burnt by the Inquisition as she was forced into silence by Church hierarchy.
Only a few writings remain which are known as the "Complete Works." According to Octavio Paz, Sor Juana's writings were saved by the Viceroy's wife. Some sources have speculated they were lovers. In April 1695, after ministering to the other sisters struck down by a rampant plague, she is said to have died at four in the morning on April 17.
...
l know we arent supposed to cut and paste from sites,
but l found this really intersting...
l adore reading about the first women to do things,
especially sticking it up males...lol...
so l hope u find it interesting as l did.
....
Sor Juana was born (November 12, 1658. Some biographers record her birth year as [1648,] – April 17, 1695).
She was known as Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, and also by her full name: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz de Asbaje (or Asuaje) y Ramírez de Santillana
Sor Juana was a self-taught Novohispana scholar, nun, poet, and a writer of the Baroque school. Though she lived in a post-conquest era when Mexico was colonized by Spain, she is considered a Mexican writer, and a precursor to later Mexican literature.
Life and Literary Production
During a time when bloodlines strictly dictated class and status, Juana de Asbaje y Ramirez Santillana began life as the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Her mother came from the small village of San Miguel de Nepantla, near Amecameca (modern-day México State). Her grandfather had acquired property there, and so Juana was raised in village life.
She was a gifted child who hid in the hacienda chapel to read her grandfather's books from the adjoining library, something forbidden to girls. She taught herself Latin before she was ten years old- and would cut off a lock of hair each time she forgot something. By adolescence, she had mastered Greek logic, and at age thirteen she was teaching Latin to young children.
In 1664, at age sixteen, Juana was sent to live in Mexico City, and came under the tutelage of the Vicerreine Leonor Carreto, wife of Antonio Sebastian de Toledo, Marquis de Mancera.
In 1667, she entered the Convent of the Discalced Carmelites of St. Joseph, but only remained there briefly. In 1669, she entered the Convent of the Order of St. Jerome where she would remain until her death.[1]
There is ongoing debate by some moderns, questioning whether she had a personal romantic life, as love is often nuanced in her poems, and her language is often a sensory and sometimes seeming ecstatic one. Coming from poetic traditions in pre-conquest Mexico wherein poetry was high art --and relationship with the gods was often spoken about in terms of erotic lyricism-- and too, with the Spanish overlay of the great Catholic saints who portrayed themselves as "lovers with God" and "brides of Christ," etc., the debate continues about whether her writings are literal or allegorical.
In her time, the convent was the only refuge in which a female could properly attend to education of her mind, spirit, body and soul. In Sor Juana's era, educating girls was not only non-existent, but often considered by Spanish prelates to be the dark work of the Devil.
Nonetheless, Sor Juana wrote literature centered on freedom. In her poem "Redondillas" she defends a woman's right to be respected as a human being. In "Hombres necios" (Stubborn men), she criticizes the sexism of the society of her time, poking fun at and revealing the hypocrisy of men who publicly condemn prostitutes, yet privately pay women to perform on them what they have just said is an abomination to God.
Sor Juana's asks the sharp question in this ages old matter of the purity/whoredom split found in base male mentality: 'Who sins more, she who sins for pay? or he who pays for sin?'
Developing her themes further, she wrote a romantic comedy entitled Los empeños de una casa about a brother and a sister entangled in webs of love, elucidating the themes of love and jealousy. She did not moralize, but rather, in the spirit of her lifetime interests, inquired of how these deeply emotional matters shaped and carved a woman's pursuit of liberty, knowledge, education and freedom to live her life in self-sovereignty.
Her independent thinking alarmed and angered the oligarchy of the Roman Catholic Church, for it sawed away at the fundamental idea that women are to serve and not to think; they are to be unpaid or lowly adjuncts to princes of the Church and Spanish royalty. Her 'thinking out loud' was especially dangerous because the Counter Reformation was raging. Anyone who challenged societal values and ecclesiastical dogma could be marked by the Church as a heretic, and thereby harmed by the Church bearing false witness against the person; by the Church silencing them; forcing them into penitence, or else stripping them of property and assets, including those of one's family; they could be tortured, exiled, imprisoned or murdered.
Matters came to a head in 1690, when a letter was published attacking Sor Juana's focus on the sciences, and suggesting that she should devote her time to soft theology.
However, powerful representatives from the Spanish court were her mentors and she was widely read in Spain, being called "the Tenth Muse." She was lauded as the most prominent poet of the post-conquest American Continent. Her work was printed by the first printing press of the American Continent in Mexico City.
In response to clergy who sought to reprimand her, Sor Juana wrote a letter entitled Respuesta a Sor Filotea (Reply to Sister Filotea,) in which she defended women's right to any education they desired. The Catholic Church, via the Archbishop of Mexico joined other high-ranking officials in condemning Sor Juana's "waywardness."
By 1693, Sor Juana seemingly ceased writing rather than risk further Church censure. However, there is no undisputed evidence of her renouncing devotion to letters, though there are documents showing her agreeing to self-humiliation. Her name is affixed to such a document in 1694, but given her deep natural lyricism, the tone of these supposed hand-written penitentials is rhetorical and autocratic Church formulae- one signed, "Yo, la peor de todas" (I, the worst of all).
She is said to have sold all her books then, an extensive library of over 4,000 volumes... her musical and scientific instruments as well. According to some investigators, her books of her own works were burnt by the Inquisition as she was forced into silence by Church hierarchy.
Only a few writings remain which are known as the "Complete Works." According to Octavio Paz, Sor Juana's writings were saved by the Viceroy's wife. Some sources have speculated they were lovers. In April 1695, after ministering to the other sisters struck down by a rampant plague, she is said to have died at four in the morning on April 17.
...
l know we arent supposed to cut and paste from sites,
but l found this really intersting...
l adore reading about the first women to do things,
especially sticking it up males...lol...
so l hope u find it interesting as l did.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Monday Morning...
l was having a good unbroken sleep, until l heard a bee with a nasal problem at my window.
l knew what it was.
THE MONDAY MORNING GARDENER.
l rolled back over and went to sleep.
Next l know lm holding a damful of water l thought would overflow if l didnt get out of bed soon.
with eyes closed l did my best to get this semi elderly lady to at least sitting position, and able to hold the overflow.
my joints felt like a truck had hit them during the night, and slowly, ever so slowly talked them into working.
my face felt like grease proof paper, and had to be wiped or else my hand would have slid off it.
time to stand.
my feet cursed me.
my legs and hips ducked for verbal cover, each doing their best to stand on the complaining feet.
ln their delicate condition they made the unbalanced way to the bathroom.
eyes still closed, and feeling my way, l made it just before the flow had a mind of its own.
sat quickly, very quickly, and let the gush go free.
ahh..
now l opened my eyes...
someone had glued them shut...
l sat there until l focused.
stood up with aching truck hit back, balanced on old and tired feet,
l could feel all of my bones trying to adjust to standing position,
and made my way to the kitchen to make a brew of that black drink we call coffee.
while waiting l looked at the clock...half eleven am.
l had to be across the city before half three pm.
the coffee machine groaned and trickled and groaned some more.
my machine sounds constipated....groan,push,drips,groan....
eventually the black stuff was ready.
my hands not quite awake yet, had to concentrate on the pouring into the my cup.
made my way to the computer with cup in hand while concentrating on not dropping it with my hands that have trouble gripping now a days, and sat here and drank it...
GOOD MORNING....
l knew what it was.
THE MONDAY MORNING GARDENER.
l rolled back over and went to sleep.
Next l know lm holding a damful of water l thought would overflow if l didnt get out of bed soon.
with eyes closed l did my best to get this semi elderly lady to at least sitting position, and able to hold the overflow.
my joints felt like a truck had hit them during the night, and slowly, ever so slowly talked them into working.
my face felt like grease proof paper, and had to be wiped or else my hand would have slid off it.
time to stand.
my feet cursed me.
my legs and hips ducked for verbal cover, each doing their best to stand on the complaining feet.
ln their delicate condition they made the unbalanced way to the bathroom.
eyes still closed, and feeling my way, l made it just before the flow had a mind of its own.
sat quickly, very quickly, and let the gush go free.
ahh..
now l opened my eyes...
someone had glued them shut...
l sat there until l focused.
stood up with aching truck hit back, balanced on old and tired feet,
l could feel all of my bones trying to adjust to standing position,
and made my way to the kitchen to make a brew of that black drink we call coffee.
while waiting l looked at the clock...half eleven am.
l had to be across the city before half three pm.
the coffee machine groaned and trickled and groaned some more.
my machine sounds constipated....groan,push,drips,groan....
eventually the black stuff was ready.
my hands not quite awake yet, had to concentrate on the pouring into the my cup.
made my way to the computer with cup in hand while concentrating on not dropping it with my hands that have trouble gripping now a days, and sat here and drank it...
GOOD MORNING....
PAVED PARADISE.
Box Hill in Melbourne Australia,1957, was the year my family moved into the suburb.
We were the only house for a mile or so, and all around us was open land.
Our main road was one road. and gravel.
Our street was dirt, with pot holes.
The milkman and his horse would come past at 3am every morning, and you would hear the bottles rattling, and hooves of the horse.
There were so many gumtrees,you could hear them swaying in the wind, long grass also.
A creek not far away, we could hear the water trickling.
Horses in paddocks without a chain.
Yabbies in little natural pools.
Tadpoles, Frogs.
.......................
Now its all built up.
A concrete jungle.
We were the only house for a mile or so, and all around us was open land.
Our main road was one road. and gravel.
Our street was dirt, with pot holes.
The milkman and his horse would come past at 3am every morning, and you would hear the bottles rattling, and hooves of the horse.
There were so many gumtrees,you could hear them swaying in the wind, long grass also.
A creek not far away, we could hear the water trickling.
Horses in paddocks without a chain.
Yabbies in little natural pools.
Tadpoles, Frogs.
.......................
Now its all built up.
A concrete jungle.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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