I could go for a whole bottle or two... ;)
Peter Quince at the Clavier__________ I __________Just as my fingers on these keysMake music, so the self-same soundsOn my spirit make a music, too.Music is feeling, then, not sound;And thus it is that what I feel,Here in this room, desiring you,Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,Is music. It is like the strainWaked in the elders by Susanna;Of a green evening, clear and warm,She bathed in her still garden, whileThe red-eyed elders, watching, feltThe basses of their beings throbIn witching chords, and their thin bloodPulse pizzicati of Hosanna.__________ II __________In the green water, clear and warm,Susanna lay.She searchedThe touch of springs,And foundConcealed imaginings.She sighed,For so much melody.Upon the bank, she stoodIn the coolOf spent emotions.She felt, among the leaves,The dewOf old devotions.She walked upon the grass,Still quavering.The winds were like her maids,On timid feet,Fetching her woven scarves,Yet wavering.A breath upon her handMuted the night.She turned —A cymbal crashed,And roaring horns.__________ III __________Soon, with a noise like tambourines,Came her attendant Byzantines.They wondered why Susanna criedAgainst the elders by her side;And as they whispered, the refrainWas like a willow swept by rain.Anon, their lamps' uplifted flameRevealed Susanna and her shame.And then, the simpering ByzantinesFled, with a noise like tambourines.___________ IV __________Beauty is momentary in the mind —The fitful tracing of a portal;But in the flesh it is immortal.The body dies; the body's beauty lives.So evenings die, in their green going,A wave, interminably flowing.So gardens die, their meek breath scentingThe cowl of winter, done repenting.So maidens die, to the auroralCelebration of a maiden's choral.Susanna's music touched the bawdy stringsOf those white elders; but, escaping,Left only Death's ironic scraping.Now, in its immortality, it playsOn the clear viol of her memory,And makes a constant sacrament of praise.~ Wallace Stevens (1879-1955)
_______ SEPTEMBER _______Der Garten trauert,kühl sinkt in die Blumen der Regen.Der Sommer schauertstill seinem Ende entgegen. Golden tropft Blatt um Blattnieder vom hohen Akazienbaum.Sommer lächelt erstaunt und mattin den sterbenden Gartentraum. Lange noch bei den Rosenbleibt er stehen, sehnt sich nach Ruh.Langsam tut er die großenmüdgewordnen Augen zu.__________ ~ § ~ __________ENGLISH TRANSLATIONThe garden saddensCool rain sinks into the flowers.Summer shudders___ as it quietly meets its end.Golden leaf by leaf dropsdown from the tall acacia tree.Summer smiles astonished and exhausted___ in the dying garden dreamLingering still by the rosesit remains standing, longing for peaceSlowly it closes its great___ weary-laden eyes.~ Hermann Hesse (1877-1953)
________ Verse For a Certain Dog _________Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)You look about, and all you see is fair;This mighty globe was made for you alone.Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir.(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)A skeptic world you face with steady gaze;High in young pride you hold your noble head,Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days.(Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?)Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong,Yours the white rapture of a winged soul,Yours is a spirit like a Mayday song.(God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!)"Whatever is, is good" - your gracious creed.You wear your joy of living like a crown.Love lights your simplest act, your every deed.(Drop it, I tell you- put that kitten down!)You are God's kindliest gift of all - a friend.Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt,You ask but leave to follow to the end.(Couldn't you wait until I took you out?)~ Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)
[That, of course, is the REAL Dorothy Parker, an incredibly brilliant, rather dear soul who hid her true self behind a fusillade of brittle repartée -- because in truth she was tremendously vulnerable -- and knew it -- poor dear!]
"Labor Day in the United States is a public holiday celebrated on the first Monday in September. It honors the American labor movement and the contributions that workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of the country."So we take the long weekend off. After summer vacations.I can dig it.
Ed,Not all of us get summer vacations. **sigh**
_________ Dooryard Gardens _________Happy times when done within your means.Overspending can, of course, bring grief.Mendacious workmen too, who play the thief,Erode faith when they act like feckless teens.Raging at injustice makes them laugh.Expect integrity and you will weep.Not many have a conscience that would keepOutrageous overreaching down by half.Value in the process is still great.A transformation from a dreary hovelTo a jewel-like place where soon we’ll shovelInspiring garden beds due to awaitOur joy in planting shrubbery and flowersNestled in the dooryard’s leafy bowers.~ FreeThinke
_________ Contained Gardens _________I have a special love for container gardens. ____ Something about clustering pots of varying sizes to best advantage ––____ and portability –– adds great appeal.I also love raffishly untidy herbaceous borders. ____ Formal parterres fascinate, ________ but frankly make me nervous, Yet long-established espaliered fruit trees ____ on ancient stone, brick or stuccoed walls ________ make a notable exception.Courtyard gardens ____ in old European monasteries________ and collegiate quadrangles____________ at Oxford and CambridgeHave about them an unmistakable aura ____ of eternal renewal, and of________ Eternity, itself.Growing things beautifully____ indicates –– to me ––________ a love and a reverence ____________ for Life.~ FreeThinke
___ COULD IT BE ___Could it be We need our fantasies And fond illusions More than we need Mundane reality?Did ancient astronauts Visit Earth aeons ago, Plant Colonies - perform Wondrous Feats of Engineering Still unexplained?The eternal Mystery ofThe Pyramids - The SphinxStonehenge - Gigantic Chalk Figures,Discernible only from great heights -Easter Island - Machu Pichu?The Origin of Man -The miracles of Music -Painting - Sculpture -Poetry and Thought.The Star of Bethlehem -The Virgin Birth - The Magi -Betrayal, Death and Resurrection?Patterns of Migration? Courtship Rituals?Attachment - Dependency -Illness - Abandonment -Grief - Tedium - Decline - Decay -The eternal Search For Acceptance - Appreciation -Affection - Understanding - ESCAPE!~ FreeThinke
__________ Picking Berries _________Parked beside a lane with lilies linedInstinct drives us to the fragrant fieldsCarrying buckets to our task resigned.Keeping up with Nature’s bounty yieldsIn summer morning’s warm, earth-scented mistNostalgic sweet refreshment from the soil.Gleefully we gather berries kissedBy sunshine, plump with rain before they spoil.Edible, these gems that fill our pailsRemain, once tasted, as a lifelong treat.Remembrance fond at “Realism” rails.It knows behind our stated urge to eat,Each one of us who picks collects delightsStored to ease the future’s endless nights.~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper - Summer 1995
______ TO THOSE WHO HELP ______May God bless the practical women and men,Who rise from the hay every day, and then Produce what we need Without rancor or greed, Make things run, Get things done, Keep things clean, So they're fit to be seen, And continuously smooth the way So that we may live comfortably every day.~ FreeThinke
_______ COME, LABOR ON _______Come, labor on. Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain while all around us waves the golden grain? And to each servant does the Master say, "Go work today." Come, labor on. The enemy is watching night and day, to sow the tares, to snatch the seed away; while we in sleep our duty have forgot, he slumbers not. Come, labor on. Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear! No arm so weak but may do service here: by feeblest agents may our God fulfill his righteous will. Come, labor on. Claim the high calling angels cannot share: to young and old the gospel gladness bear. Redeem the time its hours so swiftly fly the night draws nigh. Come, labor on. No time for rest, till glows the western sky, till the long shadows o'er our pathway lie and a glad sound comes with the setting sun: "Servants, well done." ~ T. Tertius Noble
Such a beautiful poem and hymn!
_____ COLLOQUIAL QUIP _____He who strives to be respectedProbably will be rejected.If his mood become dejected,He don't deserve to be elected.One who hopes for RecognitionSoon will end up in Perdition.In other words if you don't do good things based on Love, you are not doing good things at all. You are only massaging your ego, instead. Or as Duke Ellington put it: "It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing. ..."St. Paul said it best in his famous letter to the Corinthians which begins, "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not Love (Charity) ...
Commenters: please note that THIS is not a political thread.
________ PRIMARY SOURCES ________Look well upon the men who dig in mines,And work machines in mills and factories grim.Be aware that those who tend the vines Or till the soil give much for wages slim.Reaping sowing, weeding, hoeing makeFull the nation’s store of nutriment.Overland the burly truckers takeRich provisions and accoutrementCoast to coast. The teamsters load and haulEnormous hordes of stuff that we’ve empowered,Shipped in freighters, stored in silos tall,Delivered, well-displayed, and then devoured.Awards are due the goods and who supplies them,Yet the wise despise the guys who advertise them.~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper, Summer, 1996
Respect the blue collar workers!
_______ THE BOOMBOX _______Nestled in a quiet glad so stillOne could hear a fluttering sparrow’s wing,Immersed in prayerful thought, I’d like to kill thatSquawking, howling, growling, thumping thingEngrossing –– eating up –– my sacred space,Projecting Social Cancer at my head.Overtaking prayer it chokes like mace.Like mace it stings then stuns. My mind, well-fed,Leaps to battle the Invading Force,Usurping all my rights to meditate.The minions of the militantly coarseIdolize the fiends who violateOur right to think and feel from deep withinNegating all that’s good with fearful din.~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper
Haven't heard a boom box in ages.
FT & Duck,One good thing about iPhones. They've replaced the boom box so that the listeners are disturbing only themselves.
WRITTEN for CANARDO:______ A Soul in Torment ______Foul-minded, ill-intentioned –– yourUgly disposition longs to battle.Caring only to distress not cure,Kicking at the sky you shake your rattleIn defiance of Propriety.Noxious noise is all that you produce ––Grotesque behavior seeking notoriety ––Bad smelling like a long-uncleansed prepuce.A soul in torment must be what you are ––Suffering with the fear you are inferior.Too bad! A fine intelligence you marAssaulting with produce from your posterior.Redemption might be earned should you relent,Desist your endless insults, and repent.~ FreeThinke
AOW, your point is well taken, –– IF the poem is to be interpreted in a strictly LITERAL basis ––, which of course my stuff never is.The willful obtusity of leftists in striving always to miss the point when someone of whom they don't approve attempts to communicate is simply stunning. I have to accuse these types of being disingenuous, because I can't believe any reasonably intelligent person could be THAT stupid.The habitual stance of leftists never fails to be thoroughly dishonest. The only thing these people are capable of being ABOUT is their HATRED of TRUTH.
Wishing you and Mr. AOW a day of rest.
Bunkerville,My Chinese client and her husband took us to an Asian buffet today for lunch. Both Mr. AOW and I have been in a food coma ever since.
I haven't participated much in this thread -- or anywhere else on the web -- the past several days. Here's why...Alarming bruising of the skin around my right eye popped up on Saturday morning. No itch, no pain (except for a dull headache above the eyebrow, but the headache could be unrelated). The eye itself is fine: no change in vision, no redness, no tearing.My ophthalmologist of the past eight years retired on August 31, and my primary care doctor is on vacation. And, of course, it's a holiday weekend!Thanks to my beloved Chinese client, I had an immediate phone consult with a urologist in NYC. His best guess? Skin hemorrhage due to all the ibuprofen I've been taking as part of my pain-management regimen. The doctor on call from my urologist's group concurred. So, no more ibuprofen for a while.It's been rough not having ibuprofen in my pain-management regimen. Pain to the point of nausea between the doses of the other medication for pain.To top it all off, I've been having trouble with controlling my blood pressure. Dangerously low with severe edema of the ankles and feet! However, the primary care doc and I came up with a solution just before he left on vacation.If our helper TJP, a former student of mine from some 30 years ago, weren't here, I don't know Mr. AOW and would manage this Summer of Suffering.I should start a blog called "My Summer of Suffering." Heh.
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