|2013 New Year Birds @fourteenth|
My Best to All for The New Year
30 December 2012
29 December 2012
Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey: An Imaginative Naturalist Explores the Mysteries of Man and Nature
26 December 2012
|tide ~ κύμα ©fourteenth|
Nothing endures but change ~ Heraclitus
23 December 2012
|winter goldfish--χειμερινά χρυσόψαρα ©fourteenth|
winter goldfish slip on redbrown mud
little trails of ocherlines left behind
smile! the new year's not too long away!
trees tug to rooted ground; sea sprayed wind
needles the eye lids tender
laugh! the time is just right.
15 December 2012
2 December 2012
Let Earth and Sea and Air be still
And Heaven itself.
And then let the Body think
Of the Spirit as streaming, pouring,
Rushing and shining into it from
All sides while it stands quiet.
19 November 2012
The white moon takes the sea away from the sea
and gives it back to the sea. Beautiful,
conquering by means of the pure and tranquil,
the moon compels the truth to delude itself
that it is truth become whole, eternal, solitary,
though it is not so.
you pierce the familiar certainty, you place
a new soul into whatever is real.
Unpredictable rose! you took the rose away
from the rose, and you could give back
the rose to the rose.
from Diario de Poeta y Mar,
from the spanish of juan ramon jimenez,
translated by james wright
(thank you erin)
10 November 2012
as if you were implicated
the lifting of the mist
from the water
the grey wake of a boat
unmoored at dawn
Thomas A. Clark
5 November 2012
|rocks and grass, ©fourteenth|
2 November 2012
|rock and thorns, ©fourteenth|
Θάρρος: ο ουρανός αυτός είναι
Και τα πουλιά του εμείς
όσοι αλλού δε μοιάζουμε
Καταποντισμένη μέσα μας
Θάλασσα δημητριακή με γαίες και αχανή βουστάσια
Μόνος απ' όξω απόμεινε ο ηλίανθος
Αλλά ποιος είναι αυτός που περπατάει στον ήλιο
Μαύρος όσο το φως πιο δυνατό;
Θάρρος: ο άνθρωπος αυτός είναι
ο Κύων που λένε άλλ'
ο παραλίγο Αρχαλκυών
Άπλες αμάλαγες του Ιουνίου νομάδες άνεμοι
Χαρακωμένα καστανά χώματα που ανεβήκαμε
Διψασμένοι για λίγη λάμψη όρους Θαβώρ
Αλλά τι να 'ναι αυτό που χαμηλά περνάει κι ανατριχιάζει
Σαν άλλου κόσμου που έφτασε αεράκι;
Θάρρος: ο θάνατος αυτός είναι
Στην παπαρούνα την πλατιά
και στο λιανό λιανό χαμομηλάκι.
ΤΟ ΦΩΤΟΔΕΝΤΡΟ ΚΑΙ Η ΔΕΚΑΤΗ ΤΕΤΑΡΤΗ ΟΜΟΡΦΙΑ
21 October 2012
25 September 2012
|open mountain ©fourteenth|
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844–1889
18 September 2012
The god is all white
The silence is all white
Yet somewhere a dark water breathes
My body is all white
Yet somewhere my dark blood breathes
Der Tempel ist ganz weiss
Der Gott ist ganz weiss
Die Stille ist ganz weiss
Nur irgenwo atmet ein dunkles Wasser
Mein Leib ist ganz weiss
Nur irgendwo atmet mein dunkles Blut
from the Malayan Love songs
16 September 2012
7 September 2012
3 September 2012
©Ruth of washed stones
1 September 2012
31 August 2012
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
from The Waste Land
I. The Burial Of The Dead
30 August 2012
29 August 2012
24 August 2012
Artists create out of a sense of desolation.
The spirit of creation is an excruciating, intricate exploration from within the soul.
Una palabra de poco peso
para saludar al día
una palabra de vuelo a vela
A weightless word
to greet the day
a word for setting sail
23 August 2012
17 August 2012
Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries.
Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.
from Stray Birds
With infinite thanks
to my mother
15 August 2012
|© James Owens|
We must try to love without imagining
-- to love the appearance in its nakedness without interpretation.
What we love then is truly God.
7 August 2012
6 August 2012
5 August 2012
2 August 2012
31 July 2012
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing—
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. T. S. Eliot. Four Quartets.
29 July 2012
And there is a third nature, which is space, and is eternal, and admits not of destruction and provides a home for all created things, and is apprehended without the help of sense, by a kind of spurious reason, and is hardly real; which we beholding as in a dream, say of all existence that it must of necessity be in some place and occupy a space, but that what is neither in heaven nor in earth has no existence. Of these and other things of the same kind, relating to the true and waking reality of nature, we have only this dreamlike sense, and we are unable to cast off sleep and determine the truth about them. For an image, since the reality, after which it is modelled, does not belong to it, and it exists ever as the fleeting shadow of some other, must be inferred to be in another [i.e. in space ], grasping existence in some way or other, or it could not be at all. But true and exact reason, vindicating the nature of true being, maintains that while two things [i.e. the image and space] are different they cannot exist one of them in the other and so be one and also two at the same time.