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Hard not to be florid about this book .Devoured in snippets or read straight through. It presents amazing experiences and skills. Because Marc-Charles Nicolas has a brilliantly delicate appreciation for the idea of a sentence in a poem, the juxtapositions of segments in these pages appear essentially to construct entire topics for mediation. Examined along and the dawnings increase and multipy--- inspirations, love, feelings, locations, events hitherto isolated are now all hooks-and-eyes into each other. And because Marc-Charles gets his inspiration from the muse, you feel the exquisiteness…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
Hard not to be florid about this book .Devoured in snippets or read straight through. It presents amazing experiences and skills. Because Marc-Charles Nicolas has a brilliantly delicate appreciation for the idea of a sentence in a poem, the juxtapositions of segments in these pages appear essentially to construct entire topics for mediation. Examined along and the dawnings increase and multipy--- inspirations, love, feelings, locations, events hitherto isolated are now all hooks-and-eyes into each other. And because Marc-Charles gets his inspiration from the muse, you feel the exquisiteness and beauty buried in shattered phrases about the "universality of poetry." As a poet he belongs to a life larger than his own. -The life of genuine things. And (One more performance worth a word): the poems in his book "Perfumed Paradise" are filled with 'aboutness'. Put together as they are, they're seen to abound with roots: their laughter or melancholy or ire has discernible reasons. The humanness of poem-writing as a hobby, the splendid unavoidability of it ---that is what this compilation brings together. But floridity was to be kept away. One cloudless day---pace the anti-sentimentalists: life is short-I sat in the sun and by a Brook with a friend and passed pages of this manuscript from side to side, reading fragments aloud, laughing quietly or looking grave, occasionally thrilled and bemused. A while back, this was, yet I remember no happier afternoon. The poems were written originally in French 13 years ago in the year 1993, delicious remembrance - fantastic book! Virgo A. Bernice
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