tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25502153584904788142024-03-12T19:10:44.586-07:00Milorad Krstanović 1950 - 2011This place is for our memories of MishoCathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-11002993913194822932012-09-17T12:01:00.000-07:002012-09-17T12:15:14.151-07:00One year onThis weekend saw the first anniversary of Misho's passing. It hardly seems possible. He still seems so close, as if any moment he could walk in or be seen at the bus stop or the cinema. And close in some other, less easy to define way, as if he really is still around but just outside our limited means of perceiving.<br />
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Much has happened. Misho's flat in Moseley has a new tenant. A new academic year at Brasshouse. Friends coming and going. But people remember Misho and talk about him still. Here are some things people have said this weekend.<br />
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From G in Italy:<br />
<em>Today is a special day, I know! Birmingham, 16th September 2011, at 7. 5! I cannot forget!<br />This is the reason why I got up at 6.30 ad I was able to sit down just now: I heard Him coming in. And, as soon as I got up, I need to take the pebbles I picked with him, in Wales, some years ago (2000?) .<br />We went there with Margaret, by car. And, while we were moving from one place to another, we stopped in Barmouth, on the coast of North Wales.<br />Eunice parked her car just in front of the sea - she knew that Misho and I would enjoy very much the sea - so, she waited in the car while Misho and I went on to the beach. It was very windy and sand was blown into our faces!<br />But we were very excited because in different ways, the sight of the sea reminded us of our home lands. It was very touching. We collected shells and pebbles on the beach, while the seagulls were squealing in the sky.<br />Shortly after we realized that the tide had come in and covered the rocks that we had walked across to get to the shingle beach. Therefore we were cut off and had to take off our shoes and socks to paddle to the mainland. Unforgettable day, indeed!</em><br />
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From B in Coventry:<br />
<em>His open heart touched and inspired me with my writing.</em><br />
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From R in Birmingham:<br />
<em>I've lit a candle for him and said Kaddish.</em><br />
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From A in Switzerland:<br />
<em>Ja mu palim svecu danas.</em> [I lit a candle for him today]<br />
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From J and L in Solihull:<br />
<em>Happy memories of dear Miso!</em><br />
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From M in Birmingham:<br />
<em>A special day to remember the pain but also the joy.</em><br />
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And what I realise through all of this is that the support that surrounded Misho during his years in Birmingham and especially towards the end is still there, still ongoing, as much his gift to us as anything we may have done for him. And those little candle flames that meant so much to him while he was alive are filled with meaning for us now, too.<br />
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Unforgettable, indeed.<br />
<br />
CathyCathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-51563190994808145772012-04-01T14:03:00.010-07:002012-12-14T07:40:45.461-08:00Moses' Footprints - Milorad's new collection!<div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong><span style="color: #37b44a;"><img align="left" src="http://www.ninearchespress.com/Moses%20Footprints%20FINAL%20Cover%20copy.jpg-for-web-normal.jpg" /></span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Milorad's last book was published posthumously by Nine Arches Press and launched on 2nd March 2012.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Copies can be purchased from the </span><a href="http://www.ninearchespress.com/mosesfootprints.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine Arches Press website.</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is an extract from the poem Moses' Rod:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I have the placement of Moses' voice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">left out through this gradient of English -</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the words are as close as the well is deep:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <em>if you can smite stones</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> into water drops instead of dust,</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> the view of mountainous rocks</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> will be</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">clear and open like a waterfall.</span></em></div>
Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-40616618668755232702012-02-02T12:24:00.002-08:002012-04-02T12:17:44.516-07:00A Celebration: Milorad Krystanovich<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The launch of Milorad's new collection, <em>Moses' Footprints</em>, was attended by about 60 people. Former colleagues, friends and fellow poets joined in a real celebration of Milorad's poetic life.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXowd4vVhhnH5zCDJnIfmOahTY8wdunP0KkDiNQyvziQWbl98s7bYwVybOABTwB8YPcsE9EKaOufEI1QHYh4GUksDKfrhEzPphwYxwx0LrvSeDWNQZFc9XSSDV6ss722eNeSjLwioeduW/s1600/Moses+Footprints+launch+02+03+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" dea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXowd4vVhhnH5zCDJnIfmOahTY8wdunP0KkDiNQyvziQWbl98s7bYwVybOABTwB8YPcsE9EKaOufEI1QHYh4GUksDKfrhEzPphwYxwx0LrvSeDWNQZFc9XSSDV6ss722eNeSjLwioeduW/s320/Moses+Footprints+launch+02+03+12.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the picture, Jane Commane introduces the evening. Readers included Julie Boden, John Alcock, Jon Morley, Myra Connell and Luke Kennard.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday 2nd March 2012 at 7.15pm. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Moseley Exchange (courtyard behind the Post Office), 149-153 Alcester Road, Moseley, Birmingham B13 8JP</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rz96HKv88E4sPXetTyBbL780_5jb7fkQ9tYkO3C92jupuj5vWICfGnbu-jJvHZZCiijmvCTJELAJLN4rmkP_U2Po4sa6kKoKEOvEdb2VE3ktyvjFR6yKCTCh2Tc6aJ28PLy8eWW0Dusj/s1600/Moses+Footprints+Flyer+for+Launch+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rz96HKv88E4sPXetTyBbL780_5jb7fkQ9tYkO3C92jupuj5vWICfGnbu-jJvHZZCiijmvCTJELAJLN4rmkP_U2Po4sa6kKoKEOvEdb2VE3ktyvjFR6yKCTCh2Tc6aJ28PLy8eWW0Dusj/s320/Moses+Footprints+Flyer+for+Launch+copy.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Event starts at 7.30pm. Free entry and refreshments available.<br />
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The launch of Milorad Krystanovich’s seventh and last collection of poetry, Moses’ Footprints, and a celebration of his extraordinary legacy of poetry. <br />
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Including music and readings of poems by Milorad Krystanovich by John Alcock, Julie Boden, David Hart, Luke Kennard, Myra Connell, Martin Underwood, and others.<br />
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About Moses' Footprints: <br />
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In the shadows of war, loss and longing, a poet seeking his homeland finds his memories and dreams of its distinctive beauty refracted through a second language. These subtle, elusive and potent poems build bridges of imagery and language between the past and present, the lost and found. </span><br />
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“The poems seem driven, necessary; Croatia and its language call him back, his distinctively developed English finds image after pertinent image. The book is a bounty of metaphor as he is led by Moses and by delight and necessity of observation and discovery; the natural world seems to come to him to be named.” - David Hart <br />
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"I can't stop reading these poems. This is work of atmosphere and tone first, narrative second, but it's a narrative that combines deep melancholy with a hard-won sense of joy in the slightest shaft of light, and the thought it provokes." - Luke Kennard<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.ninearchespress.com/mosesfootprints.html">www.ninearchespress.com/mosesfootprints.html</a></span><br />
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</span>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-82414013444698719202011-12-06T14:34:00.000-08:002011-12-06T14:34:35.116-08:00The Cannon's Mouth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.cannonpoets.co.uk/11930.html"><img border="0" dda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUL3z_Io8-FRSjpBq4lGH50U_hY2T-xsJmwK8RZwFrX3gfPqnxLV4SXoGNsDdr4y_Lhc9dTDeIsOfL9U4tS2Bw-UGI8szoP7ASlnuDb-uq7PFG0LSJePUdz0KNHCqtfK42h8j0dmj6csrC/s1600/Cover%257ECM%257EDec%257E2011.jpg" /></a></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Milorad was a long time member of the poetry writers group <a href="http://www.cannonpoets.co.uk/11930.html">The Cannon Poets.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The group have been kind enough to honour Misho with his photo on the cover of the December issue of their quarterly journal, The Cannons Mouth. It also contains several of Misho's new poems. These are due to be published in early 2012 by <a href="http://www.ninearchespress.com/">Nine Arches Press</a> in a last volume of poems entitled <em>Moses Footsteps</em>. There will be news of it here as soon as it's published!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Thanks Greg, for the CM cover!</span>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-90751771018936851542011-11-22T14:23:00.000-08:002011-11-23T04:31:30.784-08:00Kad umre pjesnik by Nataša Knežević<span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";"><a href="http://miloradk.blogspot.com/p/poems_24.html">click here</a> to see an English translation on the Poems page</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Kad umre pjesnik,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">zanjišu se visoki čempresi </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">i sjene njihove zašume na jesen i kiše.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Sa obala u tišini polete ptice,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">a beskrile suze sklupčaju se </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">u mala gnijezda tuge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Zadrhte nasa srca kao plamen svijeće</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">nad kojim šapatom sričemo molitve...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Kad umre pjesnik, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">u crne obale udari crni val, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">planktoni kao rasute rime zaiskre...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">A onda se, kao eho, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">počnu vraćati njegove riječi </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">da bi ih kao bisere umetali </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">u vlastite mozaike,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">da bi sa njima uljepšali vitraže </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">kroz koje dočekujemo</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">i sunce i vjetar i kiše...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">Kad umre pjesnik, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">slutimo ipak da njegova duša </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">i dalje živi svjetlom koje sam stvara </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">i da je oblake bijele u bijela jedra</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">izvajao stihovima, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">kako bi sa njima mirno uplovio </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif";">u spokoj ozvjezdanog beskraja...</span></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">01.11.2011</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
Knin,Croatia <br />
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posted on behalf of NatašaCathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-20560043733489745592011-11-11T11:06:00.000-08:002011-11-11T11:17:38.177-08:00his welcome never faltered <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4IenQgbbsGwY93UCt2sQtvKDvLB8YOg9Jc6BFquRIa2wj3_1ALEfi09JBBpKcmnVEmyhkp0PqaNNx1ozbGx9k9SpDMM7uPhNQKiUHreq4GuHvHw8FM0nZkHfF5NDbosdqvrHfCsBSBn7x/s1600/vodice+pine+trees+low+res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4IenQgbbsGwY93UCt2sQtvKDvLB8YOg9Jc6BFquRIa2wj3_1ALEfi09JBBpKcmnVEmyhkp0PqaNNx1ozbGx9k9SpDMM7uPhNQKiUHreq4GuHvHw8FM0nZkHfF5NDbosdqvrHfCsBSBn7x/s640/vodice+pine+trees+low+res.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We first met Miso when he volunteered as an interpreter in 1997. Rev Clive Fowle had invited a group of Serbs and Croats from Baranja to England to engage in reconciliatory discussions after the recently-ended war. Miso struggled a bit with his English - can you imagine! - but he had not been long in England at that point.<br />
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On our retirement in 1999, we joined the Serbo-Croat class that Miso had by then been running for a couple of years (Denys had already been going for some time). For the next 8-9 years, Wednesday afternoons regularly saw us setting out with Denys for the Brasshouse Centre. After the lesson we would take Miso home - initially to Bearwood and then to his own flat in Moseley.<br />
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Different people joined the classes over the year. We became friendly with the regulars, and at the end of each term would have a meal out together - often just round the corner, and later on at the Brasshouse Restaurant in Broad Street. <br />
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While Miso was our teacher, as we got to know one another we increasingly became friends. Then, at the start of September 2004 he invited Denys & Margaret and Linda & myself, with Cathy and Martin, to fly with him to Split for a 10-day holiday at a family house in Vodice. We met his parents and had a wonderful time.<br />
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As a teacher Miso was constantly trying out new teaching methods. Computer-assistance was one - I know as a former teacher just how much time he must have spent preparing material for us. Twice a year he ran a Saturday School; an opportunity to learn more of the culture and songs of Croatia, and meet some of his other students. <br />
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After Miso became poorly I used to visit him in his flat on a Thursday. We had lunch together and discussed the children's stories he had been writing. He often used our grandchildren's names! <br />
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However poorly he became, his welcome never faltered. As a teacher he must sometimes have been frustrated by our slow progress but his patience was unruffled. His courtesy, kindness, and deep faith made him someone whose company we always valued and appreciated.<br />
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May he rest in peace!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Posted on behalf of John</span>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-57070991716849903212011-11-07T11:42:00.000-08:002011-11-07T11:42:30.494-08:00All Souls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXS23yBG91GzyBCvIYMUrBiGSKDxda9_mSHExWqX-4uwmlOwZPOIoA9r394Gcc84ffA9_3_lgFik_kr0uAfzgJb8NETGQHjKJaz3ZD186hQYUjdrpiFjs_ZpHDq9u8SdhzvesdXZof9Vn/s1600/Old+Church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXS23yBG91GzyBCvIYMUrBiGSKDxda9_mSHExWqX-4uwmlOwZPOIoA9r394Gcc84ffA9_3_lgFik_kr0uAfzgJb8NETGQHjKJaz3ZD186hQYUjdrpiFjs_ZpHDq9u8SdhzvesdXZof9Vn/s200/Old+Church.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Sunday 30th October there was a special All Souls service at Edgbaston Old Church. The Vicar, Alison Joyce, had given Misho and me much spiritual support while Misho was in the nursing home. During the service, the names of all those attached to her church who had passed away during the year were read out and a candle for each one lit on the altar. It was very moving. So many names, so many candles. Sometimes you need a new perspective. It certainly gave me a glimpse into the working life of a vicar with so many people to support!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Alison read a very special piece during the service and kindly sent me the text afterwards. I found it a useful insight and hope you like it too. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">‘<b>What is dying?’ by Bishop Brent</b></span></span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, ‘She is gone’. </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all; she is just as large as when I saw her … The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when someone at my side says ‘she is gone’, there are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout, ‘There she comes!’ </span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that is dying.</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-41038705590723571382011-11-06T10:59:00.000-08:002011-11-06T10:59:47.806-08:00ConnectionFor me it was a surprise to discover that Milorad was one of those special people. I don't meet them too often in my life. People whose presence has the power to take me into a different zone. I found this especially after he became ill. Sometimes speaking slowly about small things he seemed to be helping me reach a deeper connection with the world and with myself. And strangely, I felt he knew he was doing this.<br />
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I remember driving him back to Harborne one night. Before we set off, he put on a coat and pulled on a cap. Glancing at him in the car, I saw the cap had changed his appearance. He seemed experienced in struggle and quietly sure of the value of comradeship. The streets were also altered. Darker and more poetic - reminding me of how I had sometimes felt in the past, walking at night in Belgrade.<br />
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Do videnja - he said to me, at the end of the journey.<br />
- NickNickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05920615496080292877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-62419090687695875012011-11-03T04:26:00.000-07:002011-11-18T03:31:12.182-08:00The importance of a pageWalking in October sun<br />I see ...<br /><br />a no-name house;<br />its shutters barred,<br />the veranda empty,<br /><br />no one picks<br />the figs to spread<br />on bread for tea,<br /><br />underneath the fir tree<br />no one sits to write<br />or listen to the sea,<br /><br />there are no stories of the sea,<br />there is no tide<br />no ebb or flow for me.<br /><br />Yet ...<br /><br />tethered to the quay<br />is a nutshell boat<br />and a man nearby,<br /><br />'rather small for you'<br />I joke, glad to have<br />some company on the way,<br /><br />'when all is said and done<br />I can make myself to be<br />any shape in poetry'<br /><br />he laughs, and tears<br />a page out from his book <br />which like a leaf takes flight,<br /><br />cartwheels over water,<br />as if it wants to be<br />out of sight before the ink<br />has dried.<br /><br />'Why do you write?'<br />I ask and look away<br />to watch more pages para glide<br />across the bay.<br /><br />'My thoughts leave home,<br />it is my autumn' I hear<br />him say-or has he heard me?<br /><br />I do not know<br />so turn my head,<br />but man and boat have disappeared.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For Misho who understood the absence of things.</span>Hilary Blomsmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05248227566433526873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-63353621166264883502011-10-30T06:49:00.000-07:002011-11-06T12:49:05.035-08:00What's Your Memory of Milorad?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO95Vvou0u25HtAkdtWiuk8LKv8yuau8r7nKXB_Z092zUVEJtXcWEbu0rVKUbI57-KNPDqePSHUOK3JoNUA6GqfcbT4CuCND2Ac2m2x2geI4-Dl41fLtivjzxcjIYE8USFXwl8zt_ofVrt/s1600/Porquerolles+6+Oct+2011+4+smaller+low+res.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO95Vvou0u25HtAkdtWiuk8LKv8yuau8r7nKXB_Z092zUVEJtXcWEbu0rVKUbI57-KNPDqePSHUOK3JoNUA6GqfcbT4CuCND2Ac2m2x2geI4-Dl41fLtivjzxcjIYE8USFXwl8zt_ofVrt/s200/Porquerolles+6+Oct+2011+4+smaller+low+res.JPG" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by John Dolan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We all have our own memories of Misho - friend, poet, teacher, colleague. Why not share one of your memories with us?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To add a Comment, click on the word <em>comments</em> at the end of the post you want to add your comment to. At the moment, this blog is set up to accept anonymous comments which just makes it easier for everyone - but please add your name anyway!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I first met Misho in September '99 at the MAC. Martin introduced us. We were all there to see a film, Midsummer Night's Dream with Kevin Cline (not a great movie as it turned out). We had a coffee together and Misho offered me a poem to read, as he often did when meeting new people. The poem moved me so deeply I couldn't respond. 'Now let the expert comment,' said Misho rather archly I felt, taking the poem from me and handing it to Martin. But for me, the world had already changed. Utterly, you might say. I started writing after that and poetry (not just the writing - the way of perceiving the world) was the foundation, the bed-rock of our mutual understanding and friendship. The poem? <em>'Solo'</em>.</span> [I'll find a copy and add it]Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-73825449421527977292011-10-29T12:15:00.000-07:002011-12-06T14:37:51.816-08:00Seagulls, by David Hart<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">David writes that his poem <em>Seagulls</em> appears in the current edition of <a href="http://www.mptmagazine.com/"><em>Modern Poetry in Translation</em></a> and the following is his note which appears in that edition:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Milorad Krystanovich came to Birmingham from Croatia in 1992, from the upheaval in that part of Europe, and after a few years made the transition from making poems in Croatian to writing and publishing in English. His latest is <em>Improvising Memory</em> (Nine Arches Press 2010). In recent years he has been in less than good health, and as a gift I had the idea of a poem of a meeting of gulls from his birthplace and from my own. The words were put into Welsh by someone I was at school with, Helen Wallis, for which thank you; the Croatian is by Milorad, and I am grateful to his close friends Cathy Perry and Martin Underwood for enabling the process."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">To read the poem, go to the <a href="http://miloradk.blogspot.com/p/poems_24.html"><em>Poems</em> </a>page on this site.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Posted on behalf of David Hart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><a href="http://davidhartbirminghampoet.blogspot.com/">http://davidhartbirminghampoet.blogspot.com/</a></span>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-54082419112206868552011-10-18T05:16:00.000-07:002011-10-18T05:16:25.078-07:00... the nicest man I've ever met<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You were always such a kind and gentle man, very courteous and polite, the nicest man I've ever met. I never heard you say a bad word about anyone. You coped remarkably well with a hard life and your illness without giving way to bitterness or self-pity and still kept your concern for others. I'm glad I knew you. You were someone of whom it could truly be said that to know you was to love you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Posted on behalf of Becky</span>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-24724718660591429442011-10-16T02:11:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:02:16.965-07:00Making Waves<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
As we move through life we leave a wake. Some of us make waves but Misho’s wake spread wider and wider because he had a great capacity to make friends – friends who stayed in contact. His special capacity was to introduce friends to other friends with the result that many benefited. Cathy and I have many friends today both here and in Croatia which we would never have met without Misho’s wake crossing and re-crossing others in all directions. During his last illness these friends became a great support, strength and encouragement not only to Misho but also to Cathy (in particular) and myself and also many for each other.<br />
When Cathy and I were in Croatia on holiday a few years ago we were up early one bright clear morning and went down to the seafront. The sea was an absolute mirror of blue, not a ripple. Then one little fishing boat came chugging round the point and across the view its wake came to us , disturbing the water for the first time that day and it also widened out to reach the further shore a mile away and then rebounded and interwove , it was clear to see, with more waves from the wake coming in again. Often we don’t see this in life but in Misho’s case it is clearer. He boat has carried on round the further point but the friendships and influences will go on bobbing up and down and to and fro nudging each other and disturbing the gulls, rocking memories, setting off other interactions, as all good poems and writings do to those who read them again and again.</span>Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957534105514331637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550215358490478814.post-43106952797869735142011-10-05T06:52:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:00:27.230-07:00So many memories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZ6KmFxRqSmPfNXr4J8DvJO7jrZu5JLXkKxIYZ1eSWLuUjiJcnJtZXBl0Zdg7wqBs1Bp5Q8EMrUGHPKXXCrOYqQABgtLmuxeV22J9HXNha8mGutV4PSOoBprNhrI8vBYK-JewUj-nmvoz/s1600/2003+first+visit+home+low+res.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZ6KmFxRqSmPfNXr4J8DvJO7jrZu5JLXkKxIYZ1eSWLuUjiJcnJtZXBl0Zdg7wqBs1Bp5Q8EMrUGHPKXXCrOYqQABgtLmuxeV22J9HXNha8mGutV4PSOoBprNhrI8vBYK-JewUj-nmvoz/s320/2003+first+visit+home+low+res.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is my favourite photo of Misho. It was taken in 2003, during his first return to Vodice. We took a boat trip with his father. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Misho often seemed to be looking for something on the horizon, especially that magical place where the sea meets the sky.</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02376509369863295776noreply@blogger.com0