{"id":872,"date":"2024-09-10T10:29:24","date_gmt":"2024-09-10T08:29:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?page_id=872"},"modified":"2024-09-10T10:29:24","modified_gmt":"2024-09-10T08:29:24","slug":"words","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?page_id=872","title":{"rendered":"Words"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>Poetry, short texts, song lyrics that move me<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n<ul class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__list has-dates wp-block-latest-posts\"><li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=1094\">Dulce et Decorum est (by Wilfred Owen)<\/a><time datetime=\"2026-01-24T13:53:16+01:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">24 January 2026<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,<br>Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,<br>Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,<br>And towards our distant rest began to trudge.<br>Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,<br>But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;<br>Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots<br>Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!\u2014An ecstasy of fumbling,<br>Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,<br>But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,<br>And flound\u2019ring like a man in fire or lime.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,<br>As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>In all my dreams before my helpless sight,<br>He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace<br>Behind the wagon that we flung him in,<br>And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,<br>His hanging face, like a devil&#8217;s sick of sin,<br>If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood<br>Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,<br>Obscene as cancer,<br>Bitter as the cud<br>Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,\u2013<br>My friend, you would not tell with such high zest<br>To children ardent for some desperate glory,<br>The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est<br>Pro patria mori.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>By Wilfred Owen, English poet and soldier. He was killed during the final week of World War I. This poem was published posthumously in 1920 by his friend and mentor Siegfried Sassoon, another war poet. <\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=1091\">De idioot in het bad (by M. Vasalis)<\/a><time datetime=\"2026-01-24T13:27:19+01:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">24 January 2026<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Met opgetrokken schouders, toegeknepen ogen,<br>haast dravend en vaak hakend in de mat,<br>lelijk en onbeholpen aan zusters arm gebogen,<br>gaat elke week de idioot naar \u2019t bad.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>De damp, die van het warme water slaat<br>maakt hem geruster: witte stoom\u2026<br>En bij elk kledingstuk, dat van hem afgaat,<br>bevangt hem meer en meer een oud vertrouwde droom.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>De zuster laat hem in het water glijden,<br>hij vouwt zijn dunne armen op zijn borst,<br>hij zucht, als bij het lessen van zijn eerste dorst<br>en om zijn mond gloort langzaamaan een groot verblijden.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Zijn zorgelijk gezicht is leeg en mooi geworden,<br>zijn dunne voeten staan rechtop als bleke bloemen,<br>zijn lange, bleke benen, die reeds licht verdorden<br>komen als berkenstammen door het groen opdoemen.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Hij is in dit groen water nog als ongeboren,<br>hij weet nog niet, dat sommige vruchten nimmer rijpen,<br>hij heeft de wijsheid van het lichaam niet verloren<br>en hoeft de dingen van de geest niet te begrijpen.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>En elke keer, dat hij uit \u2019t bad gehaald wordt,<br>en stevig met een handdoek drooggewreven<br>en in zijn stijve, harde kleren wordt gesjord<br>stribbelt hij tegen en dan huilt hij even.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>En elke week wordt hij opnieuw geboren<br>en wreed gescheiden van het veilig water-leven,<br>en elke week is hem het lot beschoren<br>opnieuw een bange idioot te zijn gebleven.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>By M. Vasalis<\/em> <em>(pseudonym for Margaretha Droogleever Fortuyn-Leenmans, poet and psychiatrist)<\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=1088\">The One (by Alex Grey)<\/a><time datetime=\"2026-01-23T21:46:20+01:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">23 January 2026<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Fifteen billion years ago,<br>Before the beginning,<br>In the Studio of Eternity<br>There was a blank canvas,<br>Nothingness,<br>Pregnant with the possibility of Everything.<br>Then\u2014A MIRACLE!<br>Our Collective Being,<br>The Divine Artist\u2014the Creator God,<br>Aching to express, to exist,<br>Exploded itself\/ourself into a cascade of lightselves.<br>A cosmic orgasm<br>Big-banged us into creation,<br>Perfect in ratios, rhythms, and forms.<br>The Universe is a storm of light emerging,<br>Ever birthing, ever dying<br>Plasma selves, atom selves, molecular selves, cell selves,<br>Conscious lumps of DNA.<br>Ascending selves scaling evolving chains of Being.<br>Souls inside brightening,<br>Hardening into botanical and biological bodies.<br>Plant self, animal self,<br>Myself, yourself, ourselves,<br>Family selves, city self, nation self,<br>An earth full of eyes sees everything on earth<br>And we are that!<br>Planet self, star self, galactic self,<br>Self as galactic cluster,<br>Self as entire web of Cosmos<br>With amnesia.<br>Our current artistic dilemma is to wake up<br>To the truth that we are the One Godself,<br>Creating the Universe\u2014Every day<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>By <a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/photo\/?fbid=10156000142171086&amp;set=a.284507166365856&amp;__tn__=%2CO*F\">Alex Grey<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=1060\">Wiegelied (by Moes Wagenaar)<\/a><time datetime=\"2026-01-23T13:31:47+01:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">23 January 2026<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Ik wil een lampje met een touw en als ik daar aan trek <br>dat er een lied komt en iemand om te dansen <br>iemand kalm en stil in het schemerlicht <br>die me vasthoudt om te dansen <\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>En dat het lied dat bij het lampje hoort <br>fijn laat zien, aan de danser en aan mij <br>waarin de schoonheid van de dingen zit <br>de weerloosheid, en ondertussen dansen wij.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>By <a href=\"https:\/\/www.moeswagenaar.nl\/\">Moes Wagenaar<\/a><br>Published in 2009 as song&amp;video <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=5qZ7bOdqI14\">here<\/a><br><\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=876\">Patches (by Margaret Rucker)<\/a><time datetime=\"2024-09-10T10:52:14+02:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">10 September 2024<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>I wear a silken flower on my shoulder,<br>An orchid made of velvet and of lace,<br>Because a hard wind, driving through my garden,<br>Of its carousals left relentless trace<br>In broken stems and darkened leaves.    This autumn<br>I wear a silken flower in their place.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>My marble god lies broken in the garden,<br>But I will patch him till he looks like new,<br>So people will not guess that he is shattered,<br>A lifeless Eros made of stone and glue.<br>And since I&#8217;ve learned to patch, you needn&#8217;t love me<br>If but for a while you will pretend you do.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>by Margaret Rucker, unpublished during her life (1907-1959). Her scrapbook was <a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Margaret_(album)\">rescued from a garbage bin<\/a> by Chicken John Rinaldi, and some of her works were published in a book and concept album about her by Jason Webley and friends in 2014.<\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<li><a class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-title\" href=\"https:\/\/invar.nl\/?p=874\">Interior (by Dorothy Parker)<\/a><time datetime=\"2024-09-10T10:34:57+02:00\" class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-date\">10 September 2024<\/time><div class=\"wp-block-latest-posts__post-full-content\"><!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Her mind lives in a quiet room,<br>A narrow room, and tall,<br>With pretty lamps to quench the gloom<br>And mottoes on the wall.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>There all the things are waxen neat<br>And set in decorous lines;<br>And there are posies, round and sweet,<br>And little, straightened vines.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p>Her mind lives tidily, apart<br>From cold and noise and pain,<br>And bolts the door against her heart,<br>Out wailing in the rain.<\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph -->\n\n<!-- wp:paragraph -->\n<p><em>by Dorothy Parker, first published in 1926<\/em><\/p>\n<!-- \/wp:paragraph --><\/div><\/li>\n<\/ul>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Poetry, short texts, song lyrics that move me<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-872","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/872","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=872"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/872\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":873,"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/872\/revisions\/873"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/invar.nl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=872"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}