praise poet

Happy Chinese New Year!

Happy Chinese New Year! 新年快乐 (that’s ‘sshin-nyen kwhy-luh’). It’s the Year of the Rooster (雞), number 10 out of the 12 signs of the Chinese zodiac. 

This delicately decorated rooster-themed vase was made in Jingdezhen, the ‘Porcelain Capital’ of China, between 1730-1780.

About 500km East from the ‘Porcelain Capital’ were the Yue Kiln Sites in Zhejiang Province where this charming Greenware jar and ewer were made.

Green-glazed ceramics were first made in east China more than 3,000 years ago, and later wares were made for daily use and for burial in tombs. Many burial wares were ceramic models that showed aspects of daily life, such as cooking stoves or domestic animals.

From about AD 300 onwards, the Yue kilns began producing inkstones and waterdroppers for calligraphers. In the Tang dynasty (AD 618-906) the wares were used for tea-drinking. They were much admired and praised by poets.

'In the breezes and mists of autumn the Yue kilns are opened to reveal the brilliant greens of a thousand mountains.’ 

- Lu Guimeng, died AD 881


Notre Dame Cathedral – one of the most famous temples in the world, an outstanding architectural monument, praised by poets, writers, artists. The first stone was laid in 1163 in the presence of Pope Alexander III. Construction lasted from 1163 to 1345. This creation became the phenomenon for new Europe, and people from all over the world still admire this masterpiece that was created many centuries ago but we still strive to Paris to see how it looks in reality

Beautiful Aphrodite, fairest of the deathless
gods, golden one whose name was praised by poets,
whose comely form was carved in stone, you are the ideal
of loveliness and grace, O peerless, flawless goddess.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Laughter-loving Aphrodite, bringer of joy
and merriment, who takes delight in all things
pleasant and lighthearted, all festivals and feasts,
all cheerful diversions and celebrations.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Aphrodite known as Peitho, mistress of sweet
persuasion, who turns the hearts of men and women
toward love, your gifts are welcomed by us all, goddess;
we are compelled by the eloquence of desire.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Aphrodite, shaper of passions who kindles
the fire of life, you awaken the oldest
of instincts; by your will our breath quickens, our pulse
pounds, hard and harder until we hear nothing else.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Clever Aphrodite, contriver of the sweetest
schemes, with cunning and guile you clear the way for love.
Devious one, deceptive one, to you do lovers turn
to find the forbidden, to grant the heart its desire.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Aphrodite of the bridal bed, of two hearts
bound with ties as strong and thin as spider-silk.
You watch with care, O goddess, as we pledge ourselves
to one another, hands clasped in an oath of love.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Aphrodite of all people, goddess of
the low and the lewd, the common and the coarse,
Aphrodite universal, Aphrodite blue,
Aphrodite of the need and the now. Goddess,
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Aphrodite Ourania, heavenly one,
born of brutality, from seafoam and blood
you arose. Aphrodite of the spirit,
of a love pure and true, of a flame bright and still.
I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.



Found on

to paris, with love.

you are evidence of heaven sent
everything about you is perfection
the section of your nose that goes when you don’t hold to what is said
where your eyebrow can rise while questioning in your head
how your mouth configures if reading a text
the swell of cheeks, melt a sweet, the precisely neat physique of your smile
when you resort to a snort
the way you endure during short temper
eye roll and all
i hold to walls that upheld this love meld
the sway of left hand when you sang
the turn of a page as you rang poetry from where what hangs is a painting
same thing
concentration of iris, admired it, inspiring how you take care of hair
from bun to ponytail
knowing well how much time before lift or pick up from friend
intelligent in your process, thoughts fit with calculating and manipulating, making precision in decisions seem quick
needless to say, a needle in hay is you
often palpitating and man in his patience, awaiting release from the seas you wave when you prepare yourself for the day
i’m saying, from a sculptural back to artifact of arch in your back to arms, it’s ziggurat of your shape
no harm in reverence to form, before anything, your personality is a blending tool
can’t help it
smoothly you operate
the dream no longer deferred
langston thanking hues for how you do black
mascara and eyebrows
bright crown
your height now is tied down to skies ‘round your ankles
thank you for your presence
presenting etches of effortless
mentioning no control, you flow with soul
soil and water
royally daughter and sister, a hint of rock
graphic designer
balancing liner and a lineup, college, clientele and your own companies
treat yourself—might as well
what if deep doesn’t apply to what is your mind, because in the eye of this beholder, nothing can hold up to your frame
dignity never tilts, ever felt when you will yourself to take care of business
bliss is being witness to woman
wouldn’t see you as puppet or wooden
would sin resign when in time where you are classic
black girl magic
hadn’t the faintest idea i’d hear trumpets
love is what is
blunts in the air when i share stories with you
i pity the fool who views you lesser
the pressure of your precedence is a blessing
hint to men, entering your circumference is something for gods
grateful to have made it a job to exchange and service
even in the calm, you made me nervous
remain in purpose
you’re major
worth it
cursive for the right writer or reader
ignited, you’re freed up
never sacrificing your freedom
serum to ears shut when you speak what’s on your cerebellum
tell ‘em what it is
math and storm
a queen who isn’t settling
a petal swings from a rose when you arose from the ashes
pain and passion in your eyes when removing your glasses
movement as massive as a nation
civilization is made in your middle name and it is a statement to who you are
God’s gift
regardless of perception on what you’re bettering, remember this, you’re flawless
you’re grandma’s bliss
Middle’s rich
a princess
best friend’s phone call from prison
a never-ending
a memory extending from high school to why jewel is melanin
Belize is the breeze you flew from
you grew up into a phenom
keep it up and keep up
i could keep on, but these words you’re beyond…

- ekow arthur ©2017


Mount Fuji has long been praised by poets and depicted by artists for its beautiful shape and sacred status. Japanese artist Utagawa Hiroshige (1797–1858) created numerous views of Mount Fuji over the course of his career, depicting the mountain in different seasons and from a variety of viewpoints.

Come and see a brand new FREE display of Hiroshige’s views of Mount Fuji, now open in Gallery 29.

The artworks, from the Ashmolean’s own collection, include views of Mount Fuji from several different Hiroshige series; some devoted entirely to Fuji and others in which Fuji appears in views of Edo, or is seen from the Tōkaidō Road, Japan’s major highway.

You said “I’m sorry.” so much that it’s starting to taste like blood at the back of my throat. And you asked why I never said anything when you apologized, I think you failed to realize I was choking on all the sorry’s , my teeth stained red, my lungs struggling for air. Now I can breathe, and my teeth are white, and I no longer feel suffocated. Thank you for teaching me sorry doesn’t mean anything unless the person actually proves they mean it.

“What they had done in their youth, and what for millenniums had been man’s vocation, joy, and pleasure - to ride a horse, to plough in the morning the streaming field, to walk behind the oxen, to mow the yellow grain in the blazing summer heat while streams of sweat poured down the tanned body and the women who bound the sheaves could hardly keep in step with the mowers, to rest at noon for a meal in the shade of green trees—all this, praised by the poets since times immemorial, was now passed and gone. Joy in labour had disappeared.”

— Ernst Jünger, The Glass Bees.

You don’t realize it now
But one day it’ll be the future
And you’ll be lying awake in a bed that’s too big for one person
And when you look next to you she’ll be there
Dressed in white and dreaming with a smile on her face
And you won’t feel afraid anymore.

You can’t feel it right now
Because at this second you’re feeling so broken that you can’t stand up
Your knees snapping your legs like wishbones
But just because your wishes aren’t coming true
Doesn’t mean your luck has run out
And one day you’ll feel lucky again.

You can’t breathe in the room we’re in now
Not since they closed all the windows and trapped us in poisoned air
It’s not like they care
We’re suffocating in clouds of pretty pink smoke
And using our every muscle not to choke
But we can break the windows and tear down the walls
And you will breathe again.

—  i.a.s. // past, present, future
It was evident that African Women were the favorites of Greek poets. One poet wrote praising them to the skies, saying: With her charms Didymee has ravished my heart. Alas, I melt as wax at the sight of her beauty. She is black, it is true, but what matters? Coals are black; but when they are alight they glow like rose cups. Such praise were commonplace among Greek poets.

Black Women in Antiquity by Dr. Ivan Van Sertima (Editor) from the Essay African Women in Early Europe by Edward Scobie

This historical fact 6: The Myth of the Undesirable Black Woman