the poetry scene in Amsterdam by Yuyutsu RD Sharma
Posted: November 22nd, 2004, 6:46 am
This was in the Nepelese Post on sunday,an exact copy that includes all errors, 
thought you might like to see it.
By Yuyutsu R D Sharma
- Yes, I love youas a golden summer day.
no no no
I love you the way you are
no no I love you
the way no I love you
(K Schippers)
At Perdue, the only bookshop
that sells poetry in Amster dam, I found the above quoted poem printed in Dutch on the cushion cover for sale. As Renee, person in-charge at the bookstore translated the poem to me, I could guess what the contemporary literary scene in Holland might be like. "People buy more of these pillow covers and bed sheets with poems printed on them than the poetry anthologies these days," she explained to me.Soon I was to learn how similar the entire scenario is to its Asian counterpart. "Poetry doesn’t sell" dictum rang in my ears once again. Moving around with my newly published poetry collection The Lake Fewa & a Horse: Poems New, I realized how difficult it is to cross borders. Here you start building your life from the scratch. It’s an alien world, a fresh beginning has to be made. And interestingly, as I moved in German and Dutch circles, I found it’s English that becomes your greatest disadvantage. Here everything is required in German or Dutch, the whole world has to be packed in the native tongue. I ransack all most all bookstores in The Hague and Amsterdam. But there isn’t a book than I can find to get a view of the current commotion of the contemporary literary scene. With the exception of Harry Mulish’s Discovery of Paradise, that Penguin has published all is see is just the opposite— the best from world’s bestsellers list available in Dutch or German.But in the due course of time it’s meeting Dutch poet Harry Zevenbergen that I got to have a peep into the inner courtyard of contemporary Dutch literary scene. Harry invited me to a restaurant named Botterwaag, and it became a central site for me to discern, an epicenter of the Netherlands’s present day literary world. Harry invited me to a Poetry Jam and got me an opportunity to meet Jet (Henriette Crielaard) who arranges a monthly Poetry Jam at Bordelaise, a restaurant in Den Haag. Participating in such readings and meeting significant poets like Maria Barnas, Lotte Asveld and Karel I found what I had been looking for all these days so fervently in Holland. In Harry Zevenbergen I also found my first Dutch translator that could help me cross the formidable borders and introduce my works and important Nepali literature to the readers in Holland at large. Reading at Bordlaises, I realized how poets here have started searching fresher platforms of creative expression to reach out to the metropolitan public. The central idea is to synchronize painting, music and poetry. As I recited poetry in a posh little restauant, I was told it’s live on the Internet and the very next day I got a DVD of
my reading that I could sell in the forthcoming readings in Amsterdam and elsewhere.
Go and open the door/ There will be people there/ And some will smile /Go and open the door/ The caterpillars are waiting/ For you to see them fly/ Go and open the door /To let the floods of tears/ Flow out to water flowers/ Go and open the door/ To hear the sounds/ Of mixed choirs singing /Go and open the door/ There are horses turning heads /At some faint sound/ Go and open the door /To your heart And let me in.
(Dick Tucker)
As a practice whenever an art exhibition takes place, the organizers of the Poetry Jam invite the poets to write on the art on display or read stuff that echoes the painter’s preoccupations. At the same time fitting music is composed. "This Poetry Jam thing is new here as well," says Jet, " In fact, I am the first one to start it here. And it has been a great success. So much so I can survive independently with my paintings and poetry only" That the scene here is not much different from the Nepalese became clear as I visited the Open House that Barry Fiffons, a British poet living in Amsteradm for last several years, had organized in my honor. "I met Yuyutsu," he said in a Radio interview later, " because I missed a boat thirty years ago" Barry had met my Guru American Poet David Ray thirty years ago in a boat on Rhode Island, Greece. Ray who had gone there on a Fulbright Grant to work on a fresh manuscript had found Barry interesting to become a lifelong friend. At Barry’s House I met Hans Plomp and Eddie Woods. Meeting Plomp was reverting to the memories of Kathmandu in the sixties and seventies. He asked me if the Freak Street existed even today. He talked of Ying Yang Restaurant and recalled several crucial episodes related to his sojourn including Allen Ginsberg’s visit to Kathmandu and Tibet. At Barry’s place I also came across Hans Plomps’ poem, Drop the Bomb, Eh in the Nine Dutch Poets collection edited by Lawrence Ferlinghiti and published by New Directions. Incidentally, the poem resembled Nepali poet Vijay Malla’s famous poem, Bam Khasaal, eh Bam Khasaal! I wondered if Vijay Dai had met Hans in those intense Hippi days.But current literary scene seems different from the last decades of the past century. "There has always been a battle between the performing poets and the reading poets," says Hans as we his car moved through the fabulous streets of Amsterdam to reach another Poetry Jam. "And we, the performing poets, have lost the battle to the erudite, serious, academic poetry written by those close to Power." In Holland, he believes there are very few great fiction writers, "It’s Dutch poetry that sweeps the scene. We had great poets like Herman Gorter, Paul van Ostayen and Lucebert. But unfortunately very few people in here know Dutch poets. Holland is a business country. Here we have down to earth people since early times, traders with not much attached with preserving the language and literature. In fact we are most easily Americanized people of Europe." As we reached the Edna Gallary to join another Poetry Jam, I could smell what the sixties and seventies might have been like. In a hashish-scented hall the poets, including the famous Simon Vinkennoog, Eddie Woods, Diana Ozon and Merik van der Torren, had gathered along with several dozen poetry lovers to keep the flame of poetry going. On the walls I could spot the paintings of Lord Ganesha, Naga sadhus and plump Budhhas in mysterious Mandalas. There were breaks every half an hour for drinks and when my turn came, I was almost asleep. "Back home in Nepal," I told them, "By this time, I would have slept the first phase of my sleep."But in reality it felt great to
be up in the middle of the night, reading the Annapurna Poems to a fervent audience that patiently listened and later bought your book at 20 euros each, making you sign it with a smile.
I lost track
on the one way I singled out
leading to that just cause
leading to that perfect world
I lost track
got distracted on multiple choice
where I can choose right
where I can choose at all
my life a supermarket
the shelves are overwhelming
twenty brands of emotions
twenty brands of phobias
left on the shelf?
and still I can make a choice
(Harry Zevenbergen)
thought you might like to see it.
By Yuyutsu R D Sharma
- Yes, I love youas a golden summer day.
no no no
I love you the way you are
no no I love you
the way no I love you
(K Schippers)
At Perdue, the only bookshop
that sells poetry in Amster dam, I found the above quoted poem printed in Dutch on the cushion cover for sale. As Renee, person in-charge at the bookstore translated the poem to me, I could guess what the contemporary literary scene in Holland might be like. "People buy more of these pillow covers and bed sheets with poems printed on them than the poetry anthologies these days," she explained to me.Soon I was to learn how similar the entire scenario is to its Asian counterpart. "Poetry doesn’t sell" dictum rang in my ears once again. Moving around with my newly published poetry collection The Lake Fewa & a Horse: Poems New, I realized how difficult it is to cross borders. Here you start building your life from the scratch. It’s an alien world, a fresh beginning has to be made. And interestingly, as I moved in German and Dutch circles, I found it’s English that becomes your greatest disadvantage. Here everything is required in German or Dutch, the whole world has to be packed in the native tongue. I ransack all most all bookstores in The Hague and Amsterdam. But there isn’t a book than I can find to get a view of the current commotion of the contemporary literary scene. With the exception of Harry Mulish’s Discovery of Paradise, that Penguin has published all is see is just the opposite— the best from world’s bestsellers list available in Dutch or German.But in the due course of time it’s meeting Dutch poet Harry Zevenbergen that I got to have a peep into the inner courtyard of contemporary Dutch literary scene. Harry invited me to a restaurant named Botterwaag, and it became a central site for me to discern, an epicenter of the Netherlands’s present day literary world. Harry invited me to a Poetry Jam and got me an opportunity to meet Jet (Henriette Crielaard) who arranges a monthly Poetry Jam at Bordelaise, a restaurant in Den Haag. Participating in such readings and meeting significant poets like Maria Barnas, Lotte Asveld and Karel I found what I had been looking for all these days so fervently in Holland. In Harry Zevenbergen I also found my first Dutch translator that could help me cross the formidable borders and introduce my works and important Nepali literature to the readers in Holland at large. Reading at Bordlaises, I realized how poets here have started searching fresher platforms of creative expression to reach out to the metropolitan public. The central idea is to synchronize painting, music and poetry. As I recited poetry in a posh little restauant, I was told it’s live on the Internet and the very next day I got a DVD of
my reading that I could sell in the forthcoming readings in Amsterdam and elsewhere.
Go and open the door/ There will be people there/ And some will smile /Go and open the door/ The caterpillars are waiting/ For you to see them fly/ Go and open the door /To let the floods of tears/ Flow out to water flowers/ Go and open the door/ To hear the sounds/ Of mixed choirs singing /Go and open the door/ There are horses turning heads /At some faint sound/ Go and open the door /To your heart And let me in.
(Dick Tucker)
As a practice whenever an art exhibition takes place, the organizers of the Poetry Jam invite the poets to write on the art on display or read stuff that echoes the painter’s preoccupations. At the same time fitting music is composed. "This Poetry Jam thing is new here as well," says Jet, " In fact, I am the first one to start it here. And it has been a great success. So much so I can survive independently with my paintings and poetry only" That the scene here is not much different from the Nepalese became clear as I visited the Open House that Barry Fiffons, a British poet living in Amsteradm for last several years, had organized in my honor. "I met Yuyutsu," he said in a Radio interview later, " because I missed a boat thirty years ago" Barry had met my Guru American Poet David Ray thirty years ago in a boat on Rhode Island, Greece. Ray who had gone there on a Fulbright Grant to work on a fresh manuscript had found Barry interesting to become a lifelong friend. At Barry’s House I met Hans Plomp and Eddie Woods. Meeting Plomp was reverting to the memories of Kathmandu in the sixties and seventies. He asked me if the Freak Street existed even today. He talked of Ying Yang Restaurant and recalled several crucial episodes related to his sojourn including Allen Ginsberg’s visit to Kathmandu and Tibet. At Barry’s place I also came across Hans Plomps’ poem, Drop the Bomb, Eh in the Nine Dutch Poets collection edited by Lawrence Ferlinghiti and published by New Directions. Incidentally, the poem resembled Nepali poet Vijay Malla’s famous poem, Bam Khasaal, eh Bam Khasaal! I wondered if Vijay Dai had met Hans in those intense Hippi days.But current literary scene seems different from the last decades of the past century. "There has always been a battle between the performing poets and the reading poets," says Hans as we his car moved through the fabulous streets of Amsterdam to reach another Poetry Jam. "And we, the performing poets, have lost the battle to the erudite, serious, academic poetry written by those close to Power." In Holland, he believes there are very few great fiction writers, "It’s Dutch poetry that sweeps the scene. We had great poets like Herman Gorter, Paul van Ostayen and Lucebert. But unfortunately very few people in here know Dutch poets. Holland is a business country. Here we have down to earth people since early times, traders with not much attached with preserving the language and literature. In fact we are most easily Americanized people of Europe." As we reached the Edna Gallary to join another Poetry Jam, I could smell what the sixties and seventies might have been like. In a hashish-scented hall the poets, including the famous Simon Vinkennoog, Eddie Woods, Diana Ozon and Merik van der Torren, had gathered along with several dozen poetry lovers to keep the flame of poetry going. On the walls I could spot the paintings of Lord Ganesha, Naga sadhus and plump Budhhas in mysterious Mandalas. There were breaks every half an hour for drinks and when my turn came, I was almost asleep. "Back home in Nepal," I told them, "By this time, I would have slept the first phase of my sleep."But in reality it felt great to
be up in the middle of the night, reading the Annapurna Poems to a fervent audience that patiently listened and later bought your book at 20 euros each, making you sign it with a smile.
I lost track
on the one way I singled out
leading to that just cause
leading to that perfect world
I lost track
got distracted on multiple choice
where I can choose right
where I can choose at all
my life a supermarket
the shelves are overwhelming
twenty brands of emotions
twenty brands of phobias
left on the shelf?
and still I can make a choice
(Harry Zevenbergen)