#john donne
John Donne (pr. Dun)
1572-1631
English poet and rather handsome young man.That hair! Those lips! And look, his collar’s untied at the neck… Naughty.
John Donne was a very sensual man, and a poet unafraid of sexuality - look no further than his elegy, ‘To His Mistress Going To Bed’ (“License my roving hands, and let them go/Behind, before, above, between, below.”)
He was melancholic, seemingly preoccupied with death… (see the dark shadows and brooding look on his face)… and sex (see the open shirt and pouting lips).
He fought in the Anglo-Spanish war, gained a prestigious diplomatic job, fell in love with and secretly married his boss’s daughter, was found out, fired, and thrown in jail. He then worked as a lawyer for years, to sustain his ever-growing family (12 births in 16 years, the last of which resulted in Anne’s death and sent Donne into deep mourning), and later in life became a priest, and a member of parliament.
What a man.
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As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
“The breath goes now,” and some say, “No,”
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of the earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers’ love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we, by a love so much refined
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion.
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two:
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do;
And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like the other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
*** *** *** ***
When I re-found this poem a couple days ago, it made my day. The more I read and understood it, the more beautiful it became. I love when that happens with a great piece of work - that the more you are exposed to it, the more it grows in your heart. And the last verse!!! I was literally clutching my heart at how beautiful that was :’)
John Donne (1572 – 1631) was an English poet and a cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His works are noted for their strong, sensual style and include sonnets, love poems, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, satires and sermons. more
Oh do not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember, thou wast one.
But yet thou canst not die, I know,
To leave this world behind, is death,
But when thou from this world wilt go,
The whole world vapors with thy breath.-A Fever, excerpt
image: A few months before his death, Donne commissioned this portrait of himself as he expected to appear when he rose from the grave at the Apocalypse. He hung the portrait on his wall as a memento mori.
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John Donne (1572–1631).
Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devils foot;
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
–John Donne
We at BPAL are enormously concerned about the oncoming wave of pandemic-induced evictions as countless Americans grapple with diminishing prospects and no meaningful economic relief in sight.
Among the resources that will be hardest hit are your local food banks. This is a great time to find out what donations they’re accepting and begin bolstering their supplies! In many instances, cash donations make the greatest impact. Or you can just help spread the word about their needs — sometimes that’s all the help we can muster.
We created this NO MAN IS AN ISLAND perfume blend this spring as a fundraiser for our Los Angeles Regional Food Bank, but you can also donate directly via their website: https://www.lafoodbank.org/
“Warm, dark patchouli, hazelnut cream, coffee bean, cassis, tonka bean, purple sage, and bourbon vanilla.”
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“Hero and Leander”
Both robb’d of air, we both lie in one ground;
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drown’d.
–John Donne
☀️"Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; /
If our two loves be one; or thou and I /
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.“
Excerpt from a beautiful poem by John Donne - "The Good Morrow”. Tried something newish with my art, but I don’t feel it. Maybe? Not sure. It was fun though!
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![art of [a ghost]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/avatar_a56b52880290_30.png){kind=avatar}
“Just like that, like you said I’d do, I’m crawling back to youuuuuu” #intenseguitarsolo #powerslide #crowd goes wild
So basically this is how I see ‘The Pulley’
Mi domando, in verità, cosa facevamo
io e te, prima di amarci? Non eravamo ancora svezzati
fino a che non ci nutrimmo di pensieri rustici, infantili?
O russavamo nel rifugio dei sette dormienti?
Era così; salvo questo, tutti i piaceri sono fantasie.
Se mai vidi una bellezza,
che desiderai, ed ebbi, fu solo un sogno di te.
Ed ora buongiorno alle nostre anime che si svegliano,
che non si guardano l’un l’altra per paura;
perché l’amore controlla ogni amore di altre viste,
e rende un’angusta stanza un tutto.
Lascia agli esploratori dei mari la scoperta di nuovi mondi,
lascia le mappe agli altri, che hanno mostrato mondi su mondi:
lasciaci possedere un mondo; ognuno ne possiede uno, ed è unico.
Il mio viso nei tuoi occhi, il tuo nei miei appare,
e mostrano cuori veri e sinceri;
dove possiamo trovare due emisferi migliori,
senza il freddo del Nord, senza un Ovest che tramonta?
soltanto muore ciò che non è mescolato perfettamente;
Se i nostri due amori sono uno, o tu ed io
amiamo in questa maniera, nessuno dei due può morire.
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84 Charing Cross Road
Regia: David Jones
Sceneggiatura: Hugh Whitemore
Montaggio: Chris Wimble
Fotografia: Brian West
Rotten Tomatoes: 87%
Anno: 1987
#84charingcrossroad #84charingcross #anthonyhopkins #annebancroft #movies #film #moviemaking #london #books #bookshop #helenehanff #helenehanffbooks #letters #frankdoel #play #theatre #newyork #newyorkcity #johndonne #johndonnepoetry #coronation #coronationelizabeth #judidench #buckinghampalace #trafalgarsquare #westminster #centralpark #baftas #baftabestactress #madisonavenue
Two: Audio of John Donne’s Gunpowder Day Sermon as it would have sounded, with acoustics from 1622. Part of the North Carolina State's Virtual Paul’s Cross Project.
“We know that large crowds showed up to hear Donne’s sermons, but it was unclear whether they could even hear what was being said. By using the models we created for this project, we learned that the courtyard space allowed sound to reverberate, amplifying the voice of the speaker.”
–Dr John Wall, professor of English at NC State
Batter my heart, three-person’d God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp’d town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
(Original: vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896).
„Niemand ist eine Insel, in sich ganz; jeder Mensch ist ein Stück des Kontinents, ein Teil des Festlandes. Wenn eine Scholle ins Meer gespült wird, wird Europa weniger, genauso als wenn’s eine Landzunge wäre, oder ein Landgut deines Freundes oder dein eigenes. Jedes Menschen Tod ist mein Verlust, denn ich bin Teil der Menschheit; und darum verlange nie zu wissen, wem die Stunde schlägt; sie schlägt dir selbst.“
