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Tag Archives: literature

To my love on Valentine’s Day

14 Wednesday Feb 2018

Posted by Betty Zhang in Poems

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Tags

books, f scott fitzgerald, literature, love, poem, poet, poetry, romance, valentines day, writer, writing

Fitzgeralds-Passport.jpg

Hair: blonde
Eyes: green
Height: 5”8’

Signed in your cursive hand,
Each letter a musical note
So soft and so lovely,
How befitting an ode.

But darling you’re black and white
And try as I might,
I can’t seem to get it right:

Blonde hair but how blonde?
Green eyes but what green?

5”8’ I can see in the mirror,
‘Kinda short for a fella,’ I’d say
If I didn’t already know ya;
We’d stand shoulder to shoulder, but
For you I’d make an exception:
A song by Leonard Cohen.

And to be perfectly practical,
I don’t have to stand on your books
To kiss you though that’d be cute—
Catch me if I fall, though maybe I would fall
Just to fall into you.
Then we’d both be on the floor,
I’d land on your chest,
Crease that three-piece suit,
Tousle your hair, loosen that tie,
Tease till finally you pin me down,
Messed-up hair falling in your eyes
Pale gold and baby emerald, diamond-bright.

Blonde but how blonde?
A darkish blonde I imagine, the prettiest kind Save for Marilyn’s.
Green but what green?
The clear bright green of a river at the height of summer I imagine, the kind doomed Lovers would like if I’m Wright.

You’d make a dashing actor Love,
Actually they cast those to play you and your characters:
Leo and Tom and Brad and Matt,
Million dollar men, young and beautiful,
Blessed with beauty and rage.

Hollywood’s love bloomed late,
Poor fate, you thought
Broke and broken, maybe long forgotten
—Never more false! Love,
You’re alive again, risen from the debt
They owe to you.
Your name, your books,
You’re Lazarus wearing Adonis’ face;
Boy, the shows and movies they make
You have to see to believe.

Your timeless quintet and more,
In jackets of turquoise I adore,
Crazy in love, j’adore
F. Scott Fitzgerald in elegant font,
Honestly I’ve never been so fond—

Oh! Tender was
Your heart till it fell apart,
Broken instrument I fancy
Mending into art!

Still art thou black and white,
Long ago departed from life.
Love thee true I do
Yet be thy wife
I never could—
All I can do is write.

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Soft whispers

21 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Notes

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Tags

Beauty, feelings, literature, poetry, prose, sentence, writer, writing

roses tumblr

“So this is how I came to lament sadness—in my very own garden, where I weep in shades of blue, amid roses blooming. To wit, to wilt. Adieu.”

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Lo, lit! Ah.

26 Monday Jun 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Notes

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

books, english, english literature, lit, literature, writer, writing

lolita movieLiterature

Literature about literature

Literature about literature about literature

Lit of my life, fire of my lores!

My thing, my thought.

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On leaving the art gallery

16 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Petit Passages

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Tags

art, art gallery, greek mythology, literature, prose, writer, writing

rodinI loathed to leave the gallery. In the darkening light of dusk its magnificence expanded outwards, casting an enchanted aura over its surroundings. Even the parklands opposite where I walked became magic at its touch. Still I walked, stopping every so often to glance backwards, whereupon I beheld with marvellous longing the architecture to which I could return time and again. The consequence of my backward glances, I am happy to announce, was that I was simply very late for supper. Had I been a hero in a love story and the art gallery my deceased beloved—I am sure you have all heard of the poor chap—it would have been lost to me forever.

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Prose arrest

12 Monday Jun 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Notes

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

literature, poem, poet, poetry, prose, writer, writing

calliope muse poetry greek

I wrote

a poem

and sentenced

myself

to prose

arrest.

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Meatier than wursts: big long German words

19 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Beauty

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

book, education, english, german, high school, language, learning, literature, prose, sociology, university, words, writer, writing

liesel merminger.jpg

Linear, Germanic, and impressively gothic in appearance (it’s the ä, the scher and the unfamiliar arrangement of familiar alphabets), the italicised word at the bottom of the page enticed and incited in me what can only be described as a rush of desire accompanied by the urge to gratify it, like a neon sign that blinked Continue reading →

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Youth

02 Thursday Feb 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Opinion, Petit Passages

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Tags

change, empowerment, english, inspiration, literature, Opinion, poem, poet, prose, writer, writing, youth

indie-tumblr

Youth is vitality, excess collagen, fluids and oil from our pores. Our restlessness feels edgeless like the galaxy, scary and exciting like exploding stars, new like unopened books.

Youth is arrogance—we act as if we invented sex, and mock the old for their weary bones. But they were once young like us and was it not from them you and I and our parents sprang?

Youth is rage, against our predecessors’ norms, against our parents’ wishes, against the preachers and teachers who know not what it is to be young today no more than theirs did, against our own better judgement.

Youth is power: it is power harnessed from our vitality, arrogance, and rage. We can change the future because it is ours—because, if not us, who?

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Henry Winter

24 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by Betty Zhang in Beauty

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Tags

blogger, book, donna tartt, fiction, henry winter, instagram, internet, ivan kozak, literature, model, photographer, photography, the secret history, tumblr, video

ivan kozak male model hot.jpg

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@zxwo ❤️

A post shared by kat irlin (@kat_in_nyc) on Jan 16, 2017 at 6:27pm PST

Ladies and gentlemen of WordPress, readers, book lovers, fans of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History: I give you Henry Winter in the flesh.

No, his name is neither Henry nor Winter, and he is far from fictional. He is a model, real name Ivan Kozak (@zxwo), featured in @kat_in_nyc‘s mini music video from which it is unlikely I will ever recover. Continue reading →

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Vincent

06 Tuesday Dec 2016

Posted by Betty Zhang in Notes

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Tags

art, artist, culture, literature, love, painting, poem, poetry, vincent van gogh, writer, writing

vincent van gogh.jpg

Orange ‘n’ blue / Van Gogh my boo

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Excerpt from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

01 Thursday Dec 2016

Posted by Betty Zhang in Beauty

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Tags

a portrait of the artist as a young man, book, books, james joyce, lit, literature, quote, writer, writing

james joyce.jpg

How beautiful and sad that was! How beautiful the words were when they said BURY ME IN THE OLD CHURCHYARD! A tremor passed over his body. How sad and how beautiful! He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music. The bell! The bell! Farewell! O Farewell!

Reader, whenever I post a quote, know that it is because I found the words profoundly beautiful; know that I was saddened to find that their sadness echoed my own; know, if you can, how words on a page move me so.

Passage, beautiful, inky temptress, I pressed my fingertips on your imprint hoping you’d seep inside and stay.

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