Monday, December 31, 2018
Nearing the end of Dune.....sad to say. I could keep going and read the whole series, but I'm forcing myself to move on, for the time being.
The next thing I'll read will be On The Road, by Kerouac. Such a lot I've heard about him, it's time I sat down and read what he's written. Catch up with my youngest kid.
I'm just afraid that, after Dune, I will find it unappetizing.
I'll let you know.......
And after that, it will be Ideas Have Consequences, by Richard M. Weaver. A book that lay around my parents' house for as long as I remember being able to read. Time I got that one under my belt, too. I'm reading up on Weaver now, and find him interesting. Looking forward to seeing what he has to say.
The next thing I'll read will be On The Road, by Kerouac. Such a lot I've heard about him, it's time I sat down and read what he's written. Catch up with my youngest kid.
I'm just afraid that, after Dune, I will find it unappetizing.
I'll let you know.......
And after that, it will be Ideas Have Consequences, by Richard M. Weaver. A book that lay around my parents' house for as long as I remember being able to read. Time I got that one under my belt, too. I'm reading up on Weaver now, and find him interesting. Looking forward to seeing what he has to say.
"When law and duty are one, united by religion, your are never fully aware of yourself. You are always a little less of an individual." - from "Muad"Dib: The Ninety-nine Wonders of the Universe" by Princess Irulan. Dune
I think this is true, and at the sam time I think there is SOME good in it. We need to see ourselves as individuals. Unlike the animals whose self-awareness doesn't go beyond the identity of the pack, and/or the leader of it, we are able to and should view ourselves as a single entity. The divine ability to say "I". Equally important, though, is the ability to see ourselves as part of a pack - a marriage, a family, a village, a religion, a nation, etc. Our identity, as healthy humans, is in part based on the community we're a part of.
I think this is true, and at the sam time I think there is SOME good in it. We need to see ourselves as individuals. Unlike the animals whose self-awareness doesn't go beyond the identity of the pack, and/or the leader of it, we are able to and should view ourselves as a single entity. The divine ability to say "I". Equally important, though, is the ability to see ourselves as part of a pack - a marriage, a family, a village, a religion, a nation, etc. Our identity, as healthy humans, is in part based on the community we're a part of.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
IF -
- Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good or talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your nerve and heart and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them, "hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty second's worth of distance run,
Yours the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
- Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good or talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your nerve and heart and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them, "hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty second's worth of distance run,
Yours the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
AULD LANG SYNE
Robert burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidled i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin auld lang syne.
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld land syne.
And surely you'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll take a cup o'kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
Robert burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidled i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin auld lang syne.
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld land syne.
And surely you'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll take a cup o'kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
Friday, December 28, 2018
Since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
-- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other : then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think no parenthesis
- e.e. cummings
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
-- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other : then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think no parenthesis
- e.e. cummings
"When religion and politics travel in the same cart, the riders believe nothing can stand in their way. Their movement becomes headlong - faster and faster and faster. They put aside all thoughts of obstacles and forget that a precipice dos not show itself to the man in a blind rush until it's too late." - Bene Gesserit saying, Dune.
I think, with the utmost respect to Mr. Herbert, I would change the word "politics" here to "power". Politics is just the discussion of how to best govern a people, or to gain power, and religion probably should be in that discussion. It's a huge part of what makes up a culture. I think it's not until power and religion are vested in the same person or group of people that it becomes dangerous for all involved.
I think, with the utmost respect to Mr. Herbert, I would change the word "politics" here to "power". Politics is just the discussion of how to best govern a people, or to gain power, and religion probably should be in that discussion. It's a huge part of what makes up a culture. I think it's not until power and religion are vested in the same person or group of people that it becomes dangerous for all involved.
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
Little Miss Mary, engaged to be married,
Received some life-changing news.
Before she could wed, and bring a husband to bed,
She'd bring forth the King of the Jews!
Miss Mary was scared, but always prepared
To do what the Lord thought was best.
She said, "Let it be" and we all can see,
All the world through Mary is blessed.
Received some life-changing news.
Before she could wed, and bring a husband to bed,
She'd bring forth the King of the Jews!
Miss Mary was scared, but always prepared
To do what the Lord thought was best.
She said, "Let it be" and we all can see,
All the world through Mary is blessed.
Monday, December 24, 2018
Sunday, December 23, 2018
"Paul continued to stare across the basin. He inhaled, sensed the softly cutting contralto smell of sage climbing the night. The predatory bird - he thought of it as the way of this desert. It had brought a stillness to the basin so unuttered that the blue-milk moonlight could almost be heard flowing across the sentinel saguaro and spiked paintbrush. There was a low humming of light here more basic in its harmony than any other music in his universe." - Dune
A. When I read this at 14 (and thereafter) I don't remember noticing the beautiful writing, the creative use of language, as much as I am this time.
B. So is it after you have a certain level of spice in your system that you begin HEARING the light and the aromas? Haha.....
A. When I read this at 14 (and thereafter) I don't remember noticing the beautiful writing, the creative use of language, as much as I am this time.
B. So is it after you have a certain level of spice in your system that you begin HEARING the light and the aromas? Haha.....
CHRISTMAS
Religions the world over, since the dawn of time, have required a sacrifice to appease the gods. Only one god that I'm aware of offers himself as the sacrifice. Amazing. Mind-blowing. Immense gratitude. No animal or virgin can compare.
All other gods, whoever they may be,
Say, "Kill my creatures, kill each other".
My God said, "Kill me."
Selah.
Religions the world over, since the dawn of time, have required a sacrifice to appease the gods. Only one god that I'm aware of offers himself as the sacrifice. Amazing. Mind-blowing. Immense gratitude. No animal or virgin can compare.
All other gods, whoever they may be,
Say, "Kill my creatures, kill each other".
My God said, "Kill me."
Selah.
from IDEA
- Michael Drayton
61
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part:
Nay, I have done; you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not be seen in either of our brows
That one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.
- Michael Drayton
61
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part:
Nay, I have done; you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not be seen in either of our brows
That one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
"We came from Caladan - a paradise world for our form of life. There existed no need on Caladan to build a physical paradise or a paradise of the mind - we could see the actuality all around us. And the price we paid was the price men have always paid for achieving a paradise in this life - we went soft, we lost our edge." - Muad'Dib, Conversations - Dune (Frank Herbert)
....... "where there is no vision the people perish."
....... "where there is no vision the people perish."
Friday, December 21, 2018
Thursday, December 20, 2018
For many years on Facebook, I spent December posting a song a day from a list of the Christmas music I grew up with. It wasn't Christmas until that music was ringing through the house - usually beginning the night we put up and decorated the tree. This Christmas is a lean one. We haven't gotten a tree and probably won't. And I'm not on Facebook. But with the music and some reflection it's still Christmas, so I will post here some of the loveliness I've enjoyed all my life. May all who visit here experience the joy and peace of this season! My love to you all....
THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US
- William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing in this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
- William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing in this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Sorry for my silence the past few days - what a week!
On Monday I ran into the grocery store to pick up a few things. Grabbed a cart and headed down the aisle. But it was driving crooked, so I took it back and switched it for another cart. Shopped for half an hour, forty-five minutes, and didn't realize until I had checked out that I had left my keys in the first cart. Aughh! I spent two solid hours searching every cart I could in that huge store, going over and over to Lost and Found, and frequently going out to make sure I still had a car - because it was a clicker key. Anyone who found it could walk up and down the lanes clicking until the right car opened. And then bye-bye. ...... All to no avail. Finally my husband came and took me and the groceries home. The next day I spent nearly $300 to get a whole new door key and ignition key made. The old one is still out there somewhere.
While I lay awake that night wondering if my car was still there, I got a text from my son who's on his way to Lebanon to spend Christmas with family over there. He had had a long layover in Athens and had done some sight-seeing. And accidentally dropped his passport in a taxi. The taxi driver was kind enough to turn it in at the US embassy, but the embassy wouldn't give it back without approval from the State Department in Washington, and who knows how long THAT would take?? Because my husband is from the middle east, and some of us go visit frequently, there's always the worry that we're going to look suspicious to someone. I spent most of yesterday on the phone with Washington - to our US rep's office, and the State Department. At seven something this morning, He texted that he got it back. Whew!
Today our granddaughter is arriving to spend three days with us. I can't wait to have nothing more pressing to think about! 💖
On Monday I ran into the grocery store to pick up a few things. Grabbed a cart and headed down the aisle. But it was driving crooked, so I took it back and switched it for another cart. Shopped for half an hour, forty-five minutes, and didn't realize until I had checked out that I had left my keys in the first cart. Aughh! I spent two solid hours searching every cart I could in that huge store, going over and over to Lost and Found, and frequently going out to make sure I still had a car - because it was a clicker key. Anyone who found it could walk up and down the lanes clicking until the right car opened. And then bye-bye. ...... All to no avail. Finally my husband came and took me and the groceries home. The next day I spent nearly $300 to get a whole new door key and ignition key made. The old one is still out there somewhere.
While I lay awake that night wondering if my car was still there, I got a text from my son who's on his way to Lebanon to spend Christmas with family over there. He had had a long layover in Athens and had done some sight-seeing. And accidentally dropped his passport in a taxi. The taxi driver was kind enough to turn it in at the US embassy, but the embassy wouldn't give it back without approval from the State Department in Washington, and who knows how long THAT would take?? Because my husband is from the middle east, and some of us go visit frequently, there's always the worry that we're going to look suspicious to someone. I spent most of yesterday on the phone with Washington - to our US rep's office, and the State Department. At seven something this morning, He texted that he got it back. Whew!
Today our granddaughter is arriving to spend three days with us. I can't wait to have nothing more pressing to think about! 💖
Sunday, December 16, 2018
THE LAST WORD
Matthew Arnold
Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast;
Thou thyself must break at last.
Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired! best be still!
They out-talk'd thee, hiss'd thee, tore thee.
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and pass'd,
Hotly charged - and broke at last.
Charge once more, then, and be dumb!.
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall
Matthew Arnold
Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast;
Thou thyself must break at last.
Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired! best be still!
They out-talk'd thee, hiss'd thee, tore thee.
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and pass'd,
Hotly charged - and broke at last.
Charge once more, then, and be dumb!.
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Friday, December 14, 2018
EVERNESS
- Jorge Luis Borges
translated by Richard Wilbur
One thing does not exist: Oblivion.
God saves the metal, and he saves the dross,
And his prophetic memory guards from loss
The moons to come and those of evenings gone.
Everything IS: the shadows in the glass
Which, in between the day's two twilights, you
Have scattered by the thousands, or shall strew
Henceforth in the mirrors that you pass.
And everything is part of that diverse
Crystalline memory, the universe;
Whoever through its endless maze wanders
Hears door on door click shut behind his stride,
And only from the sunset's farther side
Shall view at last the Archetypes and the Splendors.
- Jorge Luis Borges
translated by Richard Wilbur
One thing does not exist: Oblivion.
God saves the metal, and he saves the dross,
And his prophetic memory guards from loss
The moons to come and those of evenings gone.
Everything IS: the shadows in the glass
Which, in between the day's two twilights, you
Have scattered by the thousands, or shall strew
Henceforth in the mirrors that you pass.
And everything is part of that diverse
Crystalline memory, the universe;
Whoever through its endless maze wanders
Hears door on door click shut behind his stride,
And only from the sunset's farther side
Shall view at last the Archetypes and the Splendors.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
I've heard it said, "If you find a good book, read it over and over again. You will get something new out of it each time - not because something's been added to the book, but because something's been added to you."
The first time I read this, I was 14 years old, and it widened my eyes, my horizons, my understanding. I've read it several times since, but upon this reading, I'm brought back to the first, and can't help comparing the depth of understanding. What a blessing, to grow older!
From a Facebook page I used to know...... 2010
A WORD PAINTS A THOUSAND PICTURES
Oh, what a beautiful day! The sky is a rich, cornflower blue, the sun is hot, and the breeze cool. The air is sparkling, crystal clear. The River leaped up, laughing, when he saw me hit the trail, and raced me to the last deck. He won, Old Man though he was, and as I leaned on the rail, gazing at him, he giggled, his eyes twinkling like a thousand diamonds. He wanted me to think he was laughing at me, but I knew better. Father Wind was tickling him.........
MWK
A WORD PAINTS A THOUSAND PICTURES
Oh, what a beautiful day! The sky is a rich, cornflower blue, the sun is hot, and the breeze cool. The air is sparkling, crystal clear. The River leaped up, laughing, when he saw me hit the trail, and raced me to the last deck. He won, Old Man though he was, and as I leaned on the rail, gazing at him, he giggled, his eyes twinkling like a thousand diamonds. He wanted me to think he was laughing at me, but I knew better. Father Wind was tickling him.........
MWK
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
from VACILLATION
- William Butler Yeats
Get all the gold and silver that you can,
Satisfy ambition, animate
The trivial days and ram them with the sun,
And yet upon these maxims meditate:
All women dote upon an idle man
Although their children need a rich estate;
No man has ever lived that had enough
Of children's gratitude or woman's love.
No longer in Lethean foliage caught
Begin preparation for your death
And from the fortieth winter by that thought
Test every work of intellect or faith,
And everything that your own hands have wrought,
And call those works extravagance of breath
That are not suited for such men as come
Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.
- William Butler Yeats
Get all the gold and silver that you can,
Satisfy ambition, animate
The trivial days and ram them with the sun,
And yet upon these maxims meditate:
All women dote upon an idle man
Although their children need a rich estate;
No man has ever lived that had enough
Of children's gratitude or woman's love.
No longer in Lethean foliage caught
Begin preparation for your death
And from the fortieth winter by that thought
Test every work of intellect or faith,
And everything that your own hands have wrought,
And call those works extravagance of breath
That are not suited for such men as come
Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.
Monday, December 10, 2018
This morning, with my first cup of coffee, I finished Irish Fairy and Folk Tales, by W.B. Yeats. I will miss the countryside and the Good People, the heroic quests and the help of various enchanted animals and things. And the perfectly logical combination of Christianity and animism. I'll go back now and then, to revisit that world.
And today I'll begin my rereading of Dune. Just the first book, for now. I have so much more to read. Want to plunge into the world of worms and spice and witches and politics for a bit.
And today I'll begin my rereading of Dune. Just the first book, for now. I have so much more to read. Want to plunge into the world of worms and spice and witches and politics for a bit.
THIS WORLD IS NOT CONCLUSION
- Emily Dickinson
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive, as Sound -
It beckons, and it baffles -
Philosophy - don't know -
And through a Riddle, at the last -
Sagacity, must go -
To guess it, puzzles scholars -
To gain it, men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown -
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -
Blushes, if any see -
Plucks at a twig of Evidence -
And asks a Vane, the way -
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -
Strong Hallelujahs roll -
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul.
"Narcotics cannot still the Tooth that nibbles at the soul". I like that.
- Emily Dickinson
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive, as Sound -
It beckons, and it baffles -
Philosophy - don't know -
And through a Riddle, at the last -
Sagacity, must go -
To guess it, puzzles scholars -
To gain it, men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown -
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -
Blushes, if any see -
Plucks at a twig of Evidence -
And asks a Vane, the way -
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -
Strong Hallelujahs roll -
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul.
"Narcotics cannot still the Tooth that nibbles at the soul". I like that.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
SONNET VII
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye.
- John Milton
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye.
- John Milton
Saturday, December 8, 2018
The other day I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while, at the local coffee shop. And we talked. What a pleasure, to sit over a cup of coffee with an old Irish poet, playwright, actor, engineer, inventor, passionately opinionated Viet Nam vet, discussing poetry! Sharing from our cell phones the latest things we've scribbled down......
And later he sent me this:
The Artist's Hand
The potters wheel that spun so fine,
The artists touch that made it whine,
The hands positioned from the train of thought,
The beauty of the artist and goblet wrought,
Nick Collier
And later he sent me this:
The Artist's Hand
The potters wheel that spun so fine,
The artists touch that made it whine,
The hands positioned from the train of thought,
The beauty of the artist and goblet wrought,
Nick Collier
It's 45 degrees, overcast and damp outside. I could not ask for a better day - this is my kind of weather! I'm going to enjoy the endless variety of greens and browns around me, going to try making a savory shallot tarte tatin, going to prep for the grand baby to spend the evening, going to read and write and listen to music. What a great day! 

Friday, December 7, 2018
THE DARK HILLS
- Edwin Arlington Robinson
Dark hills at evening in the west,
Where sunset hovers like a sound
Of golden horns that laid to rest
Old bones of warriors under ground,
Far now from all the bannered ways
Where flash the legions of the sun,
You fade - as if the last of days
Were fading and all wars were done.
- Edwin Arlington Robinson
Dark hills at evening in the west,
Where sunset hovers like a sound
Of golden horns that laid to rest
Old bones of warriors under ground,
Far now from all the bannered ways
Where flash the legions of the sun,
You fade - as if the last of days
Were fading and all wars were done.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
The adorable little 5-year-old I teach every morning has a story running through her head all the time. If she's left alone for a few minutes, it spills out of her mouth, and she plays all the parts. From a couple of rooms away, I hear her speaking dramatically, her voice changing slightly for the various characters. I'm quite sure that the life we grown-ups ask her to participate in is an annoying interruption of these proceedings. Lucky for her, she has a teacher who sympathizes thoroughly.
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
Monday, December 3, 2018
ALONE
- Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring -
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone -
And all I've lov'd - I've lov'd alone -
Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still -
From the torrent, or the fountain -
From the red cliff of the mountain -
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by -
From the thunder and the storm -
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view -
- Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring -
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone -
And all I've lov'd - I've lov'd alone -
Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still -
From the torrent, or the fountain -
From the red cliff of the mountain -
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by -
From the thunder and the storm -
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view -
Tuesday, November 27, 2018
SONNET 29
William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that mans's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that mans's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Friday, November 23, 2018
The Song of Wandering Aengus
By William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name;
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
- A lovely framed copy of this was a birthday gift from my dear sister Sarah yesterday. It's beautiful, and I will find the perfect spot in my forest library to hang it. Probably very close to my desk, so I can look up and read it anytime I want. 💖
By William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name;
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
- A lovely framed copy of this was a birthday gift from my dear sister Sarah yesterday. It's beautiful, and I will find the perfect spot in my forest library to hang it. Probably very close to my desk, so I can look up and read it anytime I want. 💖
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Pie cookies! Pie crust leftovers cut out with a cookie cutter and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. The perfect ratio of salt, sugar, and fat, with just enough starch to hold it together and just enough flavor to justify the indulgence. Happy Holidays!
And the pies that go with them. Two pumpkin, one apple and one pecan. And homemade toffee.
And the pies that go with them. Two pumpkin, one apple and one pecan. And homemade toffee.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
ON THE VANITY OF EARTHLY GREATNESS
The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne The Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.
The gritty bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all is now a rug.
Great Caesars's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
- Arthur Guiterman
The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne The Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.
The gritty bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all is now a rug.
Great Caesars's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
- Arthur Guiterman
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Friday, November 16, 2018
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
My maternal grandfather was a very learned man. He was fluent in five languages, and something of a poet and philosopher. And a gourmet cook. And his favorite poet was William Blake. When I was seven, for his birthday, I memorized and recited The Tyger for him. And my sister, five at the time, did The Lamb. Memories that Made Me.......
The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
From Irish Fairy and Folk Tales, W.B. Yeats
The bodies of saints are fastidious things. At a place called Four-mile-Water, in Wexford, there is an old graveyard full of saints. Once it was on the other side of the river, but they buried a rogue there, and the whole graveyard moved across in the night, leaving the rogue-corpse in solitude. It would have been easier to move merely the rogue-corpse, but they were saints, and had to do things in style
The bodies of saints are fastidious things. At a place called Four-mile-Water, in Wexford, there is an old graveyard full of saints. Once it was on the other side of the river, but they buried a rogue there, and the whole graveyard moved across in the night, leaving the rogue-corpse in solitude. It would have been easier to move merely the rogue-corpse, but they were saints, and had to do things in style
Saturday, November 10, 2018
The mural in my daughters' hallway, which they painted over several months. Painstakingly detailed, delightfully imaginative. I have some awesome kids.
(I had to take a series of photos, because the hall is too narrow to back up and get the whole picture. I'm insisting that when they move they take the wall with them! lol)
Serpent wrapped around a beam of sunlight. Brilliant.
(I had to take a series of photos, because the hall is too narrow to back up and get the whole picture. I'm insisting that when they move they take the wall with them! lol)
Serpent wrapped around a beam of sunlight. Brilliant.
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