Lisa Corva

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Comme il est beau ce petit paysage.

Friday, 27 May 2011 @07:49

"Comme il est beau ce petit paysage
Ces deux rochers ces quelques arbres
et puis l’eau et puis le rivage
comme il est beau
Très peu de bruit un peu de vent
et beaucoup d’eau
C’est un petit paysage de Bretagne
il peut tenir dans le creux de la main
quand on le regarde de loin"
(Jacques Prévert)

Un petit paysage, mon paysage à moi.


Nothing but silence. And clouds.

Friday, 20 May 2011 @06:22

"I want to be far from the shores of language,
a boat without passengers, lost at sea,
no correspondence, no thesaurus,
not even a name painted across the bow.
Nothing but silence, the kind that falls
whenever I walk outside with a notebook
and a passing cloud darkens my page"

(Billy Collins)

Nothing but silence. And clouds.

From: "The Art of Drowning", University of Pittsburgh Press.

But when we sit together, close.

Friday, 13 May 2011 @08:05

"But when we sit together, close, we melt into each other with phrases. We are edged with mist. We make an unsubstantial territory".
(Virginia Woolf)
A new land.

From: "The waves".

Ironing.

Friday, 6 May 2011 @07:04

"Into a landscape without emphasis
light, linear, precisely planned,
a hemisphere of tiered, aired cotton,
a hot terrain of linen from the iron
folded in and over, stacked high
neatened flat, stoving heat and white".

(Eavan Boland)

Ironed laundry. Warm. Clean. Domestic bliss.

Eavan Boland is an Irish poet. And she obviously enjoys ironing!

Lisa Corva

Yes, I write. Yes, I believe in the magic of words. That’s why you’ll find me here, every Friday: Lisa “globish”!

I believe in the magic of words, and I believe Piazza Unità in Trieste, where I was born, is the most romantic square in the world. (And yes, it’s in Italy, proudly facing the sea). I love roses in every form. And, of course, I do love my blog, expecially now that I can carry it around on my iPhone.