Stepping Out For A Walk in Verdun on A Sunny Day

Church bells from the high clouds swinging sunlight
Through the branches swaying stair rails
Gleaming star-crossed parents passing
Red and gold brick streaming
Past the corners of my eyes.
Facades crumbling cement beavers
Flying through the phone lines swooping
Foliage flinging fire beams on the
Signposts cross-street depanneur fruit
Sun-blanched beer ads rusty latches
Lingerie stores pigeons flapping
Personal mobility carts roll by
Exhaust green grass cigarette butts
Between the asphalt patches.
And now I’m by the river rushes
Near the ducks and park above me
Plastic playground seagulls
Circling strollers strolling
Children who will say:
“Verdun you know was very different
In my day.”

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8 Different Comics Zines For Sale!

“La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats”, “Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe”, “Sweet Child O’ Mine”, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, “When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats”, “Émile Nelligan dans l’abîme du rêve”, “La Chanson de Jean Berger”, “Le bateau ivre d’Arthur Rimbaud.” $3 each plus shipping (free handling!), or $2o for the whole shebang. To place your order, simply send me a message at info@jpeterscomics.com.

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Shavember, 1882

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And Then Their Eyes Met

In honour of the Hallowe’en festivities, here are the two pages of sheer pagan depravity that were originally published in the Spring 2012 issue of Code-barres magazine.

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On The Palace Steps (Aux marches du palais)

Here is my translation of a famous French folksong/lullaby from the seventeenth century, followed by the original French version (note that in the song each line is repeated twice). The best part of the original lyrics is the surprising last stanza, in which sleep, love and death seem to be subtly conflated. As an aside regarding my accompanying illustration, there appears to be some extreme sexual dimorphism going on between the couple’s feet.

On The Palace Steps

On the palace steps
There’s a would-be bride,

Whom so many love
That she can’t decide.

In the end she chose
A poor cobbler, who

Laid out his claim
As he fit her shoe:

“By your leave, fair maid,
We could share a bed,”

“With a big square frame,
And a linen spread.” Continue reading

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Contemporary and Classic Poetry versus Contemporary and Classic Art

I came across this beautiful and moving English Renaissance morality play, entitled “Francesca’s Folly”, which happens to have been written only a couple of years ago, in Canada, by Tara Kathleen Murphy:

http://www.chestnuthallmusic.com/camerata/Michaelmas/downloads/FrancescasFolly-Libretto.pdf

This led me to reflect on the contemporary use of classic artistic forms and content. Now, to my (admittedly inexpert) eyes there is very little to suggest that this verse drama was not in fact written in the English Renaissance. And if it had been, I feel its quite likely that the opening and closing stanzas in particular (delivered by God, no less!) would be considered amongst the high points of the genre. “From heavy wight to weightless light of heaven’s day.” If this line had been written in the sixteenth century, you can’t tell me scholars wouldn’t be citing it as an instance of the literary genius of the era. Continue reading

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Oh dinosaurs, where are they now the days – A Poem

Oh dinosaurs, where are they now the days
When we lingered together on the terrace of the morning?
I was too young then, alas, to hear your warning
That all that on this Earth draws breath is lost in the past’s haze.

As little real to me as gnomes or faeries,
You stared out, beady-eyed, from the pages of child’s books;
Yet consciousness, however dim, was in those looks
You turned at moonlights, and the long clouds evening carries.

Amidst a world indifferent and rapacious,
You countless hatched, and fought, and suffered all those ages,
So that a child, one day, could flip, in a few pages,
Through your Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous.

But yet, even the simplest of children’s books contains
Such truth about you you could never understand;
In sixty million years, perhaps, some other creature’s hand
Will thumb the primer that our own strange lives explains.

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Soir d’hiver by Émile Nelligan

Possibly the most famous lines in the history of Quebec poetry, from Soir d’hiver (c.1898) by Émile Nelligan: “Oh! How the snow’s been snowing!/My window pane is a garden of frost./Oh! How the snow’s been snowing!/What’s the spasm of living/Next to all this pain I have, I have!” nelligan2

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The “Ownanist” Manifesto

An Ownanist Manifesto

By Julian Peters

As a young Republican, I am a strong believer in pulling yourself up by your own efforts, on not relying on handouts from anyone. The hard truth of the matter is that the key to an energetic and vigorous economy is for every man and woman to look out primarily for his or her own private interests, to focus on the pursuit of their own happiness. This approach -one that puts responsibility for an individual’s success squarely in their own hands- I like to call “own-anism”, and I am a firm believer that it is the solution to the deep economic and societal frustrations currently confronting us here in America.

Although I only recently came up with the term ownanism, I feel that it perfectly encapsulates a philosophy by which I have been living my life for a very long time now. Since at least my early adolescence, when I first began to develop my political instincts, I have been an ardent devotee of the ownanist approach. While many of my peers would spend their time smoking illegal narcotics and engaging in irresponsible sexual behavior instead of studying, I would close myself in my room, pull down the shades, and get to work, often continuing into the wee hours of the night. Sure, it could be draining at times, but I came away from those all nighters with a deep sense of satisfaction that comes from a job well done. Best of all, when I achieved success, I knew that I had come by it entirely through my own efforts, that I hadn’t had to count on anyone but myself. This habit of self-reliance came in extremely handy in college as well, and has continued to serve me throughout my adult life. Continue reading

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The Graphic Canon Vol. 2 in stores today!

The second installment of Russ Kick’s epic anthology of the classics of world literature in graphic form hits stores today. The volume is dedicated entirely to the literature of the 1800s, and includes my adaptation of an English translation of Arthur Rimbaud’s “Le bateau ivre” (“The Drunken Boat”). Available in Canada at Indigo and Chapters bookstores, and of course on Amazon.  http://thegraphiccanon.wordpress.com/

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