Posts Tagged ‘ blackbird ’

Nina Simone – Blackbird – YouTube

IV of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird | Illustrated Poetry

Okay! It’s week 4 and stanza IV of 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens (1879-1955).  You can read the whole poem here and see my illustrated stanzas III, and III. Original video (of afternoon sunlight through half-closed venetian blinds) by Emily Grossman, GIF and composition by me. Enjoy!

Source: IV of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird | Illustrated Poetry

MILL OF PARTICULARS: The bLog of Robert Kelly: HEART THREAD 123 & 124

HEART THREAD 123 & 124


Wanted to do this hard-edged island in the city

could be Manhattan could be Berthillon

makers of fine wax masks to mood your seeming

this little language lobster in your trap

broken cage left empty on the sands

void your prisms soon o white man

a voice comes through the stovepipe listen

charcoal hisses at you beneath the ribeye listen

the blackbird explains it in the hedge

your fingernail on the mirror watches

we need more footnotes and fewer wheels

broken plaster statue still Mother of God.


O light no different from the night before

as plain as the beginning of all things

simple as hydrogen a one-piece light

the longest day on the smallest island sounds like life

terror in every sense rises from identity

pulchritudo voluptas fortitude

and give all things to everyone you meet

discard your enemies like old clothes etc.

teach a morality machinery aspires

to be one with you without myself

there will always be oligarchs be one or leave it alone
there is a broken branch a bird can sing on still.

– Robert Kelly

MILL OF PARTICULARS: The bLog of Robert Kelly: HEART THREAD 123 & 124.

Blackbird – René Marie

3 poems by Donna Fleischer | Solitary Plover, issue 19, winter 2014

on a breath,
purple finch

hummingbird stops
at me in a pink tee seeing
how Bosch saw

13 ways
(through the blackbird’s eyes)
of snow

(Zen Space, winter 2014)

– Donna Fleischer
Solitary Plover Issue 19

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

  by Wallace Stevens


Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.


I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.


The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.


A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.


I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.


Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.


O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?


I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.


When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.


At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.


He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.


The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.


It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.


from  The Academy of American Poets

Area 17: A selection of haiku short verse poems around BIRDSONG and the SOUND OF BIRDS

an up-too-late moon
the blackbird whispers its song
as I stumble home
Alan Summers
Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum (Japan 2013)

Area 17: A selection of haiku short verse poems around BIRDSONG &  SOUND OF BIRDS.

man on a plane, by Donna Fleischer

man on a plane

By hearing him speak with a flight attendant, I learn that he is from Hungary, the man in the dark brown suit and brown shoes who reminds me of the German Conceptual artist, Josef Beuys, dressed in his overlarge felt pants and suit jacket.

During the arduous flight from Amsterdam to New York, he shifts seats from time to time: sometimes in the aisle seat, other times the window seat, and once, all three, for a nap. How is it that on this crowded plane the other two seats of his row remain empty?

the blackbirds swirl

high above snowy fields

their shadow

An attendant instructs him to keep the window shuttered during this daytime flight, for better movie viewing, even though he doesn’t watch. The ocean crossing is long and dull and people need movies to pass the time. I’m like a zealous soccer fan when he glides back over to the window and cracks open the shutter a few inches, slumped as low as he can to gaze into the sky and the sunlight for long bits of time, or draw a book close to his chest to read by that light.

Scrunched up in his wrinkled brown suit like a man in solitary confinement, the rest of us sitting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness in our poured plastic cocoons, breathing recirculated air and trying to stay occupied since leaving our bodies on the tarmac before takeoff. I wonder what will emerge when this plane touches down.




a bird


Donna Fleischer
bottle rockets vol 11 no 2 (#22)

“Solo on Nudity” by Roxane Beth Johnson / Blackbird v11n1 | #poetry

“Solo on Nudity” by Roxane Beth Johnson | Blackbird v11n1 | #poetry.

At least thirteen ways of looking at a blackbird /

Inspired by a much-translated 9th-century Irish lyric, The Blackbird at Belfast Lough, Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry celebrates its fifth anniversary with an exhibition showcasing specially-commissioned depictions of its emblem, the blackbird. (above by Artist Steven Forbes)