maandag 12 november 2018

Dichtersbankje | K. Schippers

Foto: © Bert Bevers | Breydelstraat | Antwerpen

Uit de collectie Mellendijk (keuze dichter en gedicht) voorraad Mannen van Bevers: K.Schippers⇲

a2 + b2 + c2 + 2ab + 2ac + 2bc
je schoonheid min je ogen noem ik a de geest die in je dartelt b
je ogen

opgeteld en minstens een kwadraat gegeven: (a + b + c)2

K. Schippers

woensdag 7 november 2018

Dichtersbankje | John Alec Entwistle

Foto: © Hans Mellendijk |  UMC | De Uithof | Utrecht 

Uit de collectie Mellendijk (keuze tekstschrijver en song) voorraad Mellendijk: John Alec Entwistle⇲

The Who 

zondag 4 november 2018

Dichtersbankje | J.J. Evendon

Foto: © Hans Mellendijk | Avebury 

Uit de collectie Mellendijk (keuze dichter en gedicht) 

voorraad MellendijkJ.J. Evendon⇲


A full moon rises on a clear winter's night
landscape toned silvery by its light.
A chandelier of stars adds presence to the mystical view
of Avebury with its stone circle and avenue.
An instrument once used to connect with the divine power of earth,
which now lies forlorn, forgotten and broken is, quite simply, absurd.
The labour of man, was for the discovery of a spiritual being,
a place to absorb matter and return true healing.
An insight to life that could be seen and used by all,
which cannot be found only in this world.
The celestial heavens provided a point of where to seek
so they built a circle of stones that its power could reach.
A link between this, our world and the universe that surrounds,
to give rise to knowledge without any bounds.
Unfortunately, mankind has become a parasite of the worst kind,
so the soul of the earth remains locked and undefined.
One day, such places may become the saviour we need,
for now, there's nothing, just stones, long grass and weeds. 

dinsdag 30 oktober 2018

Dichtersbankje | Clives Staples Lewis

Foto: © Hans Mellendijk | Logic Lane | Oxford

Uit de collectie Mellendijk (keuze dichter en gedicht) voorraad Mellendijk: Clives Staples Lewis⇲

In Prison

I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?

donderdag 25 oktober 2018

Dichtersbankje | Bob Dylan

Foto: © Sander Grootendorst | Bladergazon⇲

Uit de collectie Mellendijk (keuze tekstschrijver en song) voorraad Grootendorst: Bob Dylan⇲

Blowin' in the wind

Stevie Wonder
Peter, Paul and Mary