POEM OF THE DAY -- "A Poem" by Pablo Picasso

As you all know, I am a big fan of surrealistic poetry.

Really makes me think.

It can be said that the surrealistic movement is most famous among the masses for the popular appeal of the art of the time - Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dali, etc. But the art-form which has influenced me the most stems from words themselves, hence you will find plenty of work here from Andre Breton, Paul Eluard, etc.

Yet Bretons "Manifesto of Surrealism" is a written document, a decree, which paints its own picture.

Here for your enjoyment is an interesting twist - a surrealist poem by the master surrelasit painter himself, Pablo Picasso (well I we should not ignore Dali - he wrote some mean poetry too).

Picasso, like so many others of the period, really believed in the surrealist movement. So whether it be a sketch, drawing, photo or painting, whatever Picasso produced during this period was an extension of his beliefs -- and his poetry, like his paintings, profoundly expressed this influence.


A POEM

By Pablo Picasso

in secret
be quiet say nothing
except the street be full of stars
and the prisoners eat doves
and the doves eat cheese
and the cheese eats words
and the words eat bridges
and the bridges eat looks
and the looks eat cups full of kisses in the orchata
that hides all with its wings
the butterfly the night
in a cafe last summer
in Barcelona

-

POEM OF THE DAY -- "picasso" by e.e. cummings

eNothing followers (the blog here or on twitter) know that we love e.e. cummings work (or any art/photography/music that is unconventional).  Cummings was an innovator, and avante garde painter of words, experimenting with words or parts of words, scattering them across the page like a canvas, spraying punctuation marks around, and basically bucking convention for the sake of creativity.

His unique style and departure from (poetic) tradition are traits that defined e.e. cummings; and so it was with Pablo Picasso -- who was greatly admired by cummings.- who was fortunate enough to spend time with Picasso during his sojourns to Paris in the 1920's and 1930's.

And so here is one of cummings poems honoring the surrealistic master.

Picasso


by e.e. cummings

Picasso
you give us things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind

you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity

(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or

between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whispers.)
Lumberman of the Distinct

your brain's
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest

bodies lopped
of every
prettiness

you hew form truly

-

POEM OF THE DAY -- "night train to horta" by Pablo Picasso

Pablo Picasso -- Poet?  That's right.  One of the founders and undeniable leaders of the famous and influential surrealist movement -- as an artist and a sculptor -- was also an accomplished and respected surrealist poet.

The surrealist movement was led by Picasso and poets Andre Breton and Paul Eluard - and formed a tight circle of nuclear genius in Paris in the early half of the twentieth century.  Picasso led the surrealistic movement as aruguably the most famous artist of the twentieth century, perhaps of all time.

What few know is that in 1935, at age 54, an emotional crisis caused Picasso to halt all painting and devote himself entirely to poetry.  André Breton praised his writings as ‘an intimate journal, both of the feelings and the senses, such as has never been kept before.’

Here for your reading pleasure is one of my favorite Picasso poems, "Night Train to Horta":

night train to horta

by Pablo Picasso

she wants head

male bonding

siamese twins

tango 69

me

i travel by images

corporal landscapes

the mouth is the tunnel

quick, now

the tongue the train

windows on the world

unmistaken

still

same refrain

we will meet

we will meet

somewhere again

end of the line

with

the power of torso

speed of the memento

lost and then

found

and

always

the blood engine

pounding

puffing

steaming its blush

on the cheek of night

-