I am so lucky to discover such a brilliant writer ...have already read her two prose works ....Sunbathing in the Rain and Two in a Boat.... she is so profound ....what a writer!!! Now I am on the journey to read her poetry ....💕💕💕
I can relate to the second body / almost spiritual mysterious process comment and the poem writing you in this lovely candid conversation . Thanks for the gems Gwyneth Xxx.
I guess time would not allow, but it would have been interesting to hear her say a bit more about how her later poetry is informed by her early grounding in the intricate and beautiful Welsh poetic form (known as 'cynghaneddd'), whereby (in brief and in essence) a seven syllable line is divided in two (where there is a natural break in the middle of the line - a caesure), then all the consonants appearing in the first half have to be repeated (in the same order) in the second half, producing a lovely chiming or echoing effect. So, for example, take a line like, "Guiness du / o gynnwys da" (meaning - "Black Guiness of benificent content." (!). Here all the consonants in the first half ( g-n-s-d) ar repeated in the second half. It is a technical craft which does become a habit, ingrained and somewhat irrepressible!
Hello,my name is Cecilia Persson, im an swedish poet and writer and also sometimes take some shots, im also a member of sociity of friends both in Sweden and America, are so grateful for inspiration, its very hard to live in Fucking Sweden, idiots have to much power, it slowly makes you "crazy", love Cecilia
Edifying responses, comments, and obiter dicta from Gwyneth. Re-watched this video after a long gap. There are some subtle observations I missed the first time round. The creative process is quite mysterious. It partakes of the aleatory as well as the advertent. Her stress on the androgyny of the Muse is quite significant. Your daemon is completely gender-free. It is free enough to be sexless or pansexual if it suits the context. A short poem by Theodore Rhoetke sums up the mystique quite succinctly: OPEN HOUSE My secrets cry aloud I have no need for tongue My heart keeps open house My doors are widely swung An epic of the eyes--- My love with no disguise. My truths are all foreknown My anguish self-revealed I am naked to the bone With nakedness my shield Myself is what I wear--- I keep the spirit spare.
