Melancholy*

*Photo by Pedro Moreira

Melancholy
Depression of spirits; a gloomy state continuing a considerable time; deep dejection; gloominess.
Great and continued depression of spirits, amounting to mental unsoundness; melancholia.
Pensive maditation; serious thoughtfulness.
Ill nature.
Depressed in spirits; dejected; gloomy dismal.
Producing great evil and grief; causing dejection; calamitous; afflictive; as, a melancholy event.
Somewhat deranged in mind; having the jugment impaired.
Favorable to meditation; somber.

in BrainyQuote

Ausência

Deixa secar no meu rosto

Esse pranto de amor que a presença desatou

Deixa passar o desgosto

Esse gosto da ausência que me restou

Eu tinha feito da saudade

A minha amiga mais constante

E ela a cada instante

Me pedia pra esperar

E foi tudo o que eu fiz, te esperei tanto

Tão sozinha no meu canto

Tendo apenas o meu canto pra cantar

Por isso deixa que o meu pensamento

Ainda lembre um momento a saudade que eu vivi

A tua imagem fiel

Que hoje volta ao meu lado

E que eu sinto que perdi

in Vinicius de Moraes, Poesia completa e prosa: "Cancioneiro"

*From a great poet to a great friend, whose name I find also melancholic and poetic, Ruy Mar, and who is making a brilliant study on the subject. Indeed, two great Brazilian.

Rage

“We are threatened with suffering from three directions: from our own body, which is doomed to decay and dissolution and which cannot even do without pain and anxiety as warning signals; from the external world, which may rage against us with overwhelming and merciless forces of destruction; and finally from our relations to other men. The suffering which comes from this last source is perhaps more painful than any other.” (Sigmund Freud)

*Photo by Ricardo Alberto Sousa

"rage (raj) a state of violent anger."

in Free Online Medical Dictionary

The Fury of Hating Eyes

I would like to bury

all the hating eyes

under the sand somewhere off

the North Atlantic and suffocate

them with the awful sand

and put all their colors to sleep

in that soft smother.

Take the brown eyes of my father,

those gun shots, those mean muds.

Bury them.

Take the blue eyes of my mother,

naked as the sea,

waiting to pull you down

where there is no air, no God.

Bury them.

Take the black eyes of my love,

coal eyes like a cruel hog,

wanting to whip you and laugh.

Bury them.

Take the hating eyes of martyrs,

presidents, bus collectors,

bank managers, soldiers.

Bury them.

Take my eyes, half blind

and falling into the air.

Bury them.

Take your eyes.

I come to the center,

where a shark looks up at death

and thinks of my heart

and squeeze it like a doughnut.

They'd like to take my eyes

and poke a hatpin through

their pupils. Not just to bury

but to stab. As for your eyes,

I fold up in front of them

in a baby ball and you send

them to the State Asylum.

Look! Look! Both those

mice are watching you

from behind the kind bars.

Anne Sexton

Jealousy

“Love sees sharply, hatred sees even more sharp, but Jealousy sees the sharpest for it is love and hate at the same time” (Arab proverb)

*Photo by Paulo Franco

"Jealousy typically refers to the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that occur when a person believes a valued relationship is being threatened by a rival. This rival may or may not know that he or she is perceived as a threat.
According to many authors, jealousy is a complex emotion. (...) The experience of jealousy can last much longer than the one of a basic emotion like anger, without losing its original intensity.
(...) Jealousy is a familiar experience in human relationships. It has been reported in every culture and in many forms where researchers have looked. It has been observed in infants as young as 5-6 months old and in adults over 65 years old."

in Wikipedia

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.
--Iago, Act III, scene iii

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be resolved.
--Othello, Act III, scene iii

O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses.
--Othello, Act III, scene iii

one that lov'd not wisely but too well;

--Othello, Act V, scene ii

William Shakespeare, Othello

Alertness

*Photo by Duarte Antunes

"Alertness is the state of paying close and continuous attention."

in Wikipedia

Private Eye



To find clues where there are none,
That's my job now, I said to the
Dictionary on my desk. The world beyond
My window has grown illegible,
And so has the clock on the wall.
I may strike a match to orient myself


In the meantime, there's the heart
Stopping hush as the building
Empties, the elevators stop running,
The grains of dust stay put.
Hours of quiescent sleuthing
Before the Madonna with the mop


Shuffles down the long corridor
Trying doorknobs, turning mine.
That's just little old me sweating
In the customer's chair, I'll say.
Keep your nose out of it.
I'm not closing up till he breaks.



Charles Simic

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Happiness

*Photo by Vasco Pinheiro (edited)

"Happiness is emotion in which one experiences feelings ranging from contentment and satisfaction to bliss and intense joy. This definition is, however, a synonymous one. A more clarified one is almost impossible to conceive due to the capacity by which a human can allocate the correct words into an appropriate and meritable sentence that would describe happiness."

in Wikipedia

Happiness

A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth--
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.

I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.

poem by Louise Gluck

Forgiveness

"Pray you now, forget and forgive" (William Shakespeare, King Lear)

*Photo by João Martins Pereira, "Tango"

"Forgiveness is the mental and/or spiritual process of ceasing to feel resentment, indignation or anger against another person for a perceived offense, difference or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution. (...) Forgiveness may be considered simply in terms of the person who forgives, in terms of the person forgiven and/or in terms of the relationship between the forgiver and the person forgiven. (...)It may be granted without any expectation of compensation, and without any response on the part of the offender (...)."

in Wikipedia

Villanelle for the Middle of the Way



When we first love, his eyes reflect our own;

When mirrors change to windows we can see;

Seeing, we know how much is still unknown.



Was it a trite reflection? What is shown

When we gaze deep begins the mystery:

When we first love, his eyes reflect our own.



Neither of us could cast the first stone,

And to forgive is tender. "Now", thought we,

"Seeing, we know". How much was still unknown



We later learnt. But by forgiveness grown -

As Blake discovered - apt for eternity,

Though in first love his eyes reflect our own.



What was the crime for which you would atone

Or could be crime now between you and me

Seeing we know how much is still unknown?



I know you now by heart not eyes alone,

Dearer the dry than even the green tree.

When we first love, his eyes reflect our own,

Seeing, we know how much is still unknown.





poem by Anne Ridler

Confusion

Photo by Francisco Sismeiro

confusion,
noun. a mental state characterized by disorientation regarding time, place, or person that causes bewilderment, perplexity, lack of orderly thought, and inability to act decisively or perform the activities associated with daily living.

in Medical Dictionary (thefreedictionary.com)

The Road Not Taken





Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;



Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.



I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.






poem by Robert Frost

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