Saenger 29k58 how to feather eyebrows
VHS writing workshop 2003-2012
Literature workshop 2013
Literature workshop 2014
Literature workshop 2015
Literature circle "The Eliterates" 2017
see Fatrasia - Language Games, see May 2013
"Blue Notes": Live in sentences, dance in verse.
The Cologne Literature Festival "Poetica II" This year is dedicated to a special color: blue, which has inspired many painters and poets - a color that reflects longing and infinity.
The Slovenian poet Aleš Šteger put this thought in a few lines: "Man was born under the blue sky. And under the blue sky he perishes. In between he hopes for a little homeland that will give him grows under the soles."
The Pantun, also Pantum, Pantoun, is an originally oral form of poetry in Malay language.
A pantoon can consist of any number of stanzas. The stanzas consist of four lines with eight to twelve syllables each. These quartets are rhymed in cross rhyme, i.e. a-b-a-b. The second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next stanza. In addition, the third line of the first becomes the second line of the last stanza and the first verse of the poem becomes the last, but sometimes the first and third lines of the first stanza remain unchanged.
A poem with four stanzas consists of only eight different verses (1–8) and four pairs of rhymes (a - d)
The first two lines (sampiran) contain an image from nature, while the following two lines (isi or maksud) express a human feeling. Both pairs of lines are parallel sound sequences or sentence structures connected with one another. The parallelism of factual representation of nature and emotional expression in the refrain became the principle of the Pantun tradition. 
The special effect of the pantun is based on the play of meaning in its repetitions. The sequence of factual and emotional pairs of lines results in an artistic wickerwork. Since the first and third lines recur as the second and last lines at the very end, it closes the circle: the cyclical shape of the poem leads the listener or reader harmoniously back to the beginning.
Romantic etude, Pantun, "At the age of 18"
(Words from Brentano, "Listen, the flute complains again"
and from Goethe, "Why did you give us the deep looks")
1. Prose text (sentences by Ilma Rakusa from "Mehr Meer", p.32)
(Paul Celan's poetry can also be described as a condensed language landscape.)
2. Dieter Brinkmann's momentary poetry ("Stillphotos", 1980)
Rewrite the Brinkmann verses in a haiku (5,7,5 syllables, 3 lines)
3. Nature image, Haiku from Basho (17th century).
: (18 syllables, 18 words, 18 lines) "18 more or less", "eight teeth", variations on "Aaa, oh, eight, ten ...", spoken, sung, danced, staggered in time like a canon ...
Called in the Anglo-American language area Shortest stories often also flash fiction, sudden fiction or short-short story. In Spanish they are called microcuentos (also microrrelato, relato breve, microficción, cuentos brevísimos or narrativa mínima)
The Internet has significantly promoted the development and even created the framework for the length of these short stories through formats such as SMS or Twitter.
Image: E. Munch's cry for Maluko
Further opening sentences:
Flash fiction are whole stories, with protagonist, beginning, middle, climax and end, so like a short story, only shorter. 250 words maximum. It can be funny, be sarcastic, sad, it doesn't matter
Write a complete story in just 6 words. Hemingway is said to have called this Six Word Story his best work.
Seven word story by Augusto Monterroso: El dinosaurio, Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí.
Beer mat stories, stories in 140 characters.
At the age of 18 - ("A generation without saying goodbye" after Wolfgang Borchert varies)
Internet jargon: "HDGDL", which means "I love you so much."
Read more: Bushido - From 18 Lyrics | MetroLyrics
(BLUMIO) (15 STRAWS)
Write instructions for use for teenagers aged 18 and over
The ELI are on the go, hunting for 18-year-olds. In doing so, they end up in the wordless desert. Your brain is burned out. How are they supposed to bring messages into the world of images?
Suddenly a lit oasis in front of them, where they quickly sharpen their ELI skewers, poke deeper in the word wall of their brains. There it flashes red, there it flashes green. The ELI prick, beat, dig until water swells. They throw ELI colors into the ground. Colors in the water, watercolor pictures: art becomes visible.
Look, see, fantastic sculptural pictures, heads, they float up. Draw, say, and write the ELI. Art form 18 has to show itself. Rise up, you nymphs, show yourself at 18 years of age. Sands trickle, sand sculptures pile up, wide, deep, high, 1.80 meters.
The ELI tremble, rush, call: O Laura baby, we love you so much.H.D.G.D.L., baby H.D.G.D.L. An echo from historical depth calls back: What longing with tears for you - you - you - our life - our everything - oh Sophiemarieeternally yours and eternally us, this is how Beethoven's words once sounded.
The ELI continue to dig into the creative hole, wash their word brushes and hope for a creative boost. It sounds delicate Kleist-historically from the depths "My sweeter, my lap child, my flattering kitten, my fool of the heart, my hyacinth bed".
On spurs, the ELI turn their brushes of words and see an 18 cm miniature head in the haze of their witticism. Screaming, shouting, they gasp for breath: Laura, we'll set you free. Laura, take a look at you. They use their transformation brushes and dye Laura's hair red. Laura, you are so expressive, so new, so great.
Meanwhile, the ELI have uncovered another head. I am Sophie, so young, so beautiful. And then her hair is dyed green. Sophie, you are so pretty. Are you eight feet tall? A third and a fourth head are worked out literally. Anna, Marie, speak to us. The ELI hear their voices, hear their dreams.
The ELIs are trembling with excitement, they are excited. The story source gushes.
The ELIs are on the move. I could curl myself. There, the shoulders.
This is how they speak, and their words become colors. Then the ELI begin a circle dance and the fantasies swirl: GNTM - GGN - TM - TTM - MM.(Germany's Next Topmodel)
Suddenly a shadow falls on the happy group. A strong angel appears at the edge of the pit of words and asks in a loud voice: Who is worthy, who has the perfect body? Who is worthy to run for the election of Germany's Next Top Model?
A rumble rises, the fashion witch angel falls down from the clouds, opens a book and proclaims the ultimate mission statement: 1.80 meters, 55 kg body weight, size 34, long neck, narrow shoulders, boyish hips, apple-sized breasts, long and thin legs that you can push a plum through between your thighs without touching the skin. But know this is out of reach for you.
A choir of angels intoned: BU - BUBUBU - BULI - LILI - BULIMIMIE - MIE - BULIMIE-NIE
And the voice descends piercingly on singers and dancers; all life in the artificial lake freezes: G.Anyway, I'll sink the fashion book here and remember the words NOT SO AND NOT AGAIN. Stay as you were.
Then the ELI fall, slide down on the juice of their creativity into the idea-riddled 18-hole fountain and splash in watercolors, acrylic and oil and suffocate in the word brew of what they vomit.
At the end, when the scribes' brains have dried again, an ancient angel with a shining, white beard appears above the catastrophe story, standing in the shiny edges of the set sun; and he calls out in a loud voice and speaks to all the art workers who have worked their way through, speaks to all the high-flying art birds that wander around in the middle of the dark 18 cloud: Keep coming and gathering for the free artist's meal. But don't be fools who bite on ideas and ruminate them, ruminate them, because ruminants are like the dog that eats vomit again.
Elite I, 4th (3. 2016)
A. limerick is a short, usually joking poem in five lines with the rhyme schemeaabba, a (relatively) fixed anapaestical meter in all lines and a length contrast between the three-letter lines 1, 2 and 5 on the one hand and the two-letter lines 3 and 4 on the other. This creates the characteristic rhythm of the poem form.
1st and 2nd line: reference to the often geographical existence or special nature of a person) in a very specific state.
3rd and 4th line: apparently logical continuation, but its content is determined exclusively by the arbitrarily chosen rhyming words.
5th line closes the poem with a variation of the 1st line; the rhyming word of the 1st line is always repeated here. Often the 5th line contains a pointed judgment about the named person.
The stress scheme looks like this:
dadida dadida dadida
dadida dadida dadida
dadida dadida dadida
Lines one, two, and five have three stressed syllables; Lines three and four are shorter and have only two stressed syllables. Between two stresses within a line there are two unstressed syllables. Each line usually begins with an unstressed syllable.
(gn, febr. 16)
Haiku take me with you
to colored paradise
everyone over eighteen
Eighteen shark cows
I want to drift into the art land
the free artist
see LEXICON OF YOUTH LANGUAGE
chatiquette.de - The manners in chat and
Very easy - step by step - listened to 18 sentences
he: A guy with a lot of piercings and lasered from top to bottom
she: Your style is totally flashing!
he: Hey look, that's a hot lollipop!
she: Wow, be as flashy as the punk girlie Shirley.
he: You may be pimped up, very specific
she: It really pisses me off how this guy rolls!
he: I get tempted quickly with the guinea fowl;
she: 'Really amazing!' - Hey, take away your branch!
he: I'm about to cut my branch around the listening boards, you tulip!
she: Did we fuck off again?
he: I can really clock out with your hollow blubber
she: I'm pretty much wound up today
he: Stop texting me, it sucks!
she: I'm going to chill out now.
he: Hey, you're completely broken if you go home now!
she: Don't gawk so pissed off.
he: I'll brake you in a moment.
she: An ultra-Daffel like you shouldn't be walking around at all.
... ... (gn)
he says / she says
They are sexy, love flashy outfits and knock out the strongest sayings
Elite I, 5, (March - April 2016)
Project with "Free Artist Commune" theme "18+"
1. The departure of eighteen-year-olds into the wide world according to the animal story of the Pippel-Poppel-See, the fairy tale of E. Lear: Edward Lear, The History of the Seven Families
2. Rewrite scenes, insert other texts and continue writing on the subject of "eighteen-year-olds" after the radio play "Five man people“By Jandl and Mayröcker. It consists of mini-scenes (an introduction and a mini-dialogue).
Scene 1; Location: Maternity Clinic; Speaker: "As long as there are children, there will be children. "Choir:" A son, a beautiful son! "Five voices calmly say, one after the other," Aha "...... You can hear the screaming of the babies.
Scene 2; Location: In the parental home; Speaker: "The father is checking the long beard, the children are well on their way today." Father: "You get a jacket." The children answer that they also want a jacket….
Scene 3; Location school .... You should go to school or stand in the corner.
Scenes in the cinema, during career counseling… .etc.
Participation and lecture by Katja Perricci and Günter Neuenhofer as representatives of the "German Poets"
Katja: topic "twilight"
whether all else is enough;
the small deaths already,
whether I walk them on a tightrope
or treat them like straw
that I spin into gold.
Since that night already
the morning dew is dangling,
I want yours
when the point
behind my longing.
flutter wildly on the beach,
hectic, like a slightly yellowed chicken,
whose wings flutter back and forth uncontrollably,
as if the wind was leafing for his life in the twilight.
He sweeps "freedom" through the pages,
but the pearls of it because of the indescribable nature of the leaves.
Their magic, however, leaves wistful traces in the patient paper,
So they meander like noiseless waves.
The day is breaking, no new life, because
no matter how the wind turns it,
they remain bound.
It is dark
It's the black one
It's the black in a close
It's the black in a person's close quarters
It is the black in the close proximity of different people
In love like a fire
Love to get lost
Love to find yourself
Love out of habit
Love out of passion
Love from devotion
Love from ver-see
goes out everywhere
everywhere in a close
It is too hard
It's the black one
It is dark
The only thing we have
The only thing we have to do
The only thing we have to do for each other
is to say as it is
i feel love
because it is
free love ...
in between she understands tightly.
Her legs poke open in her stomach
like worms on the lawn.
Should she knock down the clouds?
It's getting dark
the moon is not exactly bright.
Does he know how many little stars
The Milky Way is going bad.
She's been really pissed off for a long time.
He knows her sore bottom
on which she sits for hours.
What is he doing in her place?
Sheep clouds torment.
The feeling of hurt finally passes.
She bows to his expectations
out of deep affection,
which is therefore declining.
He does not prevent
they go wrong
their eyes fall into their laps.
They are tired, give rest.
of their radiance
Maybe three rays of sun
where you rappel
squeeze through the upcoming
let you land on my mind
In it we now crouch bundled up
wrapped with these
shining threads of heaven,
that warm up the impossible
and pull my soul right back
whereby our connectedness
appears in a whole new light.
on the outside,
he prefers to throw
not a good light
under my eyes.
the skin-warm night
back on the hanger
and hatch together
in the dewy day,
Let's take him!
He is the tip of the skirt
from the rest of our lives!
Routine snaps my day
like grandma’s old floor lamp.
And I know again
so i think of it
how much light and security
emanated from her.
Out of the dark into the sorrow.
guard your words
hat he has nothing like that
his words, the words
he has nothing in his hat
hat he has nothing like that
his words, the words
he has nothing on his hat
Now I'm flying into your brain
Now I am your mouthpiece
Now i'm your eye
Now you don't say anything anymore
None of us are the same in age
who he was in his youth.
None of us are the same in the morning
who he was the day before.
We are carried away as if by a river.
Everything you see
flows by with time.
Nothing of what you touch remains.
We, you and me, we have each other
as I say this and you hear it changed.
Who we were, are, will be:
we are not us.
'We go into the same river twice
and yet don't get in again. '
I will be yesterday
I was there tomorrow.
That's the way it is.
But I ask you:
I can't be me
Words freeze to color
do you see red
do you see green, blue, yellow,
flows together, apart,
Word worlds, we in the middle,
Word images between us.
You will flow
we are flowed,
down the waterfall,
in a was
Watch the river
register the water level,
in the river.
You flow fleetingly.
Here a puddle
there the sea.
Where is a way?
(K: I jump into my longing.)
Swim towards the waves of verse
we are that
we are the whole
we are together the whole
we are together all of life
we will always live the whole thing together
in the to-live
That is much
(K: dark - it is)
Do you see?
Something - me or you.
Passed by, you passed me by.
I'm standing here - actually.
So no longer there?
I don't see us anymore.
In the distance. Far away.
Way, all gone.
Do you hear me?
A rattle somehow.
But my calling.
In my ears.
Incomprehensible - pointless.
Tell me what you think.
Yeah, let's talk.
One word only.
Do you feel?
My heartbeat, a light.
It is fading.
In the dark.
Lightless - only night.
Just a little.
if he wanted to come too
whether it hadn't been nice after all
you had a lot of fun
they really found each other here
the other will be forgotten immediately
that you can find yourself
that one lives happily
who would have known thought
dared to hear the surf
to see the spray
which it washes out
I was nice - never again
I listen - never again
I smiled - never again
I left - immediately
went quickly - immediately
I heard it was terrible
I had seen - terrible
I had suffered - terribly
that and this
I wish - gone
that belonged - gone
very quickly - gone
I came - never again
Elite I, (June 2016)
Finding the language in texts
José F.A. Oliver (Born in 1961 as the son of a Spanish guest worker family who came to the Federal Republic of Germany from Malaga in 1960. He grew up speaking German and Spanish and is also familiar with the Alemannic dialect of his Black Forest homeland.):
2. Francesco Micieli (Born 1956. Francesco Micieli's family belongs to the Albanian minority in Italy, the Arbëresh. In 1965 he came with his parents to the Swiss Emmental. Francesco Micieli, who already spoke his mother tongue, an Albanian dialect and Italian, learned German and Swiss German here.)
The laughter of the sheep (1989)
I just know that my dad has big hands (1986)
My Italian trip (1996)
3. Peter Weber (born 1968 in Wattwil, Switzerland, writer and musician)
The weather maker (1993)
The table and me
Weather making as a synonym for writing.
The book ends with the sentence: "
Laudation by Hans-Ulrich Probst - Solothurner Literaturp
4th Jan Snela (born 1980)
Milk face ("A bestiary of love", 10 stories, 1916)
The author as composer: "Yes, it's really very much about sound. And I would almost speak of the primacy of sound in my writing. I also called that sound compulsion, loosely after the French who were there have joined forces experimentally, where there is talk of compulsory form. ”- Jan Snela loves alliteration and word creations.
An elaborate, baroque adorned style, bizarre, form-loving and verbatim. Boring and empty of content ?? No dull umbilical examination, pseudo-dismay literature or mainstream. A slam poetry style.
Artistic representations of a "scream" (literary, picturesque, dramatic)
1. Federico García Lorca
Poem from Poema del cante jondo in Spanish and in German post-poetry
(see The spectrum of modern poetry: interpretations d)
2. Samuel Beckett "Not I"
Can we write about basic human situations in an almost incomprehensible Beckett manner and in shredded language? Beckett has the presentation of his text in his text “Not Ich”, which our dear, daring elite Marie Luise wants to perform with her theater group a woman's voice and a big visible one mouth reduced. The tongue, the teeth and the Lips produce words. The human body remains invisible. This is an exclusive, elite form of theater. (lake Beckett's “running text” 8.3.16)
MOUTH:. . . . out. . . into this world. . . this world. . . tiny little thing. . . before its time. . . in a godfor–. . . what? . . girl? . . yes. . . tiny little girl. . . into this. . . out into this. . . before her time. . . godforsaken hole called. . . called. . . no matter. . . parents unknown. . . unheard of. . . he having vanished. . . thin air. . . no sooner buttoned up his breeches. . . she similarly. . . eight months later. . . almost to the tick. . . so no love. . . spared that. . . no love such as normally vented on the. . . speechless infant. . . in the home. . . no. . nor indeed for that matter any of any kind. . . no love of any kind. . . at any subsequent stage. . . so typical affair. . . nothing of any note till coming up to sixty when–. . . what? . . seventy?. . good god! . . coming up to seventy. . . wandering in a field. . . looking aimlessly for cowslips. . . to make a ball. . . a few steps then stop. . . stare into space. . . then on. . . a few more. . . stop and stare again. . . so on. . . drifting around. . . when suddenly. . . gradually. . . all went out. . . all that early April morning light. . . and she found herself in the --–. . . what? . . who? . . no! . . she! . . [Pause and movement 1.] . . .
.. out .. into this world .. this world .. tiny little thing .. ahead of time ... into a goddamn- .. what? .. girl? … Yes .. tiny little girl .. into this .. out into this .. before time… godforsaken hole named… named… no matter .. parents unknown .. never heard of… he disappeared… evaporated… hardly his pants closed again was .. she was the same .. eight months later .. almost to the day .. so no love .. spared it .. no love as it is usually left out on .. speechless child .. in the home .. no. . also something no concern at all .. no love at all .. neither there nor later .. so the usual .. nothing worth mentioning until around sixty as .. what? ..Seventy? .. Great God! ... until around seventy .. wandering around in a field .. looking aimlessly for cowslips .. to weave a ball out of them .. a few steps then stop .. staring into space .. then further .. a few more. . stop and then stare again .. so on .. wandering around .. when suddenly .. gradually .. everything went out .. all that early April morning light .. and suddenly she was in ... what? .. who? .. no! .. you! Pause and exercise 1
3. "The Scream" by E. Munch.
Here is a brief history of malukö (02/10/16):
She was already standing on the bridge, behind her the men who were supposed to bring her back, when the thought went through her, “Oh God, I'm 18 years old ... and mom won't wash my laundry for me any more !! "She froze. How could and should she manage?" Shit, damn it and there is still no app for that ...... "
to 1 darling
the sky is melting i call him in his Allotment garden
he answers in a friendly manner but I only hear one singing
Vogel's melting morning, can no longer speak only lukewarm
The bird sings its song only for me tenderly and sweetly
penetrating my heart seizing I do not know whether blackbird
whether nightingale (disturbing in the distance 1 human voice the
no longer reach me) I will call the bird
poor: she is my lover
5. Ernst Jandl: description of a poem
with closed lips
without movement in the mouth and throat
inhale and exhale each
accompany with the sentence
thought slowly and without a voice
Ich liebe dich
so that every air is drawn in through the nose
coincides with this sentence
each expulsion of air through the nose
and the calm lift
and lower the chest
6. Friedrich Holderlin (1770-1843)
MELODY to Lyda
.... (3 str.)
Where the vulture's cry of prey rejoices,
Where the Aar rises from the nest of rocks,
Where the walls are groaning,
Where the winter storm rushes in ruins
Where the wave, conquered by the hurricane,
To the black sky again,
If the giant heart drinks enthusiasm,
Caressed by the flattering tones.
.... (4 str.)
Ha! and when to me in the tones of the song
Closer to my love soul floats
Infused with tears of delight
Closer to her the singer's soul quakes,
I don't think I have been untied from my body
To cheer in the land of spirits? -
Lyda! Lyda! magically wrapped
Holds the all of love, the creative hand.
100 years of DADA
The Dadaists discovered that Chance as a creative principle. Hans Arp had been working on a drawing for a long time in his studio on Zeltweg. Unsatisfied, he tore the sheet of paper and let the scraps flutter on the floor. When, after a while, he happened to see the tatters again, the arrangement surprised him. It had the expression he had been looking for all along before. Arp also applied the principle to his poetry: “Words, catchphrases, sentences that I chose from daily newspapers and especially from advertisements formed the foundations of my poems in 1917. I often determined words and sentences with my eyes closed ... I called these poems Arpaden. "
The Dada principle is stored in the genome of modern art, because it influences artists and culture on this day. Jean Tinguely, Niki de Saint-Phalle, Yoko Ono, David Bowie, Lady Gaga and Pussy Riot, among others.
Why does this art movement, which arose a hundred years ago and only existed for barely seven years (from 1916), still retain its inspiring power today?
Jan Skácel (* 1922 in Vnorovy; † 1989 in Brno) was a Czech poet.
Laudation for Jan Skácel: the Czech L
What Was Left Of The Angel (1966)
Early in the morning
all trees are still tied up
and things untouched
the angel rises between two poplars,
if asleep on the fly.
In the cracks of sleep he sings.
Whoever enters the alley first,
is wounded by this song,
maybe he suspects something
but does not see it.
It is green,
and that's all that's left of the angel.
Room II (Rose foreigner)
There is still space
for a poem
The poem is still there
where you can breathe
„Runaway Poetry "
.... Ésmaticx - Escape Lyrics | Genius Lyrics
We both can't talk anymore
Without it popping between the two of us
You said: "We are young and free, we can still experience everything"
But my wounds are too old for that
And I'll take it, tear it out
I'll take it, tear it out
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