Category Archives: poetry

Love looks at them back.

love, poetry, , , ,

THE KINGDOM

It’s a long way off but inside it
There are quite different things going on:
Festivals at which the poor man
Is king and the consumptive is
Healed; mirrors in which the blind look
At themselves and love looks at them
Back; and industry is for mending
The bent bones and the minds fractured
By life. It’s a long way off, but to get
There takes no time and admission
Is free, if you purge yourself
Of desire, and present yourself with
Your need only and the simple offering
Of your faith, green as a leaf.

-R.S. Thomas

salvia

There is no god, the wicked sayeth.

poetry, reality, ,

“There is no God,” the wicked saith,
“And truly it’s a blessing,
For what He might have done with us
It’s better only guessing.”

“There is no God,” a youngster thinks,
“or really, if there may be,
He surely did not mean a man
Always to be a baby.”

“There is no God, or if there is,”
The tradesman thinks, “’twere funny
If He should take it ill in me
To make a little money.”

“Whether there be,” the rich man says,
“It matters very little,
For I and mine, thank somebody,
Are not in want of victual.”

Some others, also, to themselves,
Who scarce so much as doubt it,
Think there is none, when they are well,
And do not think about it.

But country folks who live beneath
The shadow of the steeple;
The parson and the parson’s wife,
And mostly married people;

Youths green and happy in first love,
So thankful for illusion;
And men caught out in what the world
Calls guilt, in first confusion;

And almost everyone when age,
Disease, or sorrows strike him,
Inclines to think there is a God,
Or something very like Him.

-Arthur Hugh Clough (1819 – 1861)

-Dmitri Petrovs

Writing light and sage.

poetry, writing

John Gower was a friend of Chaucer. He sounds like someone who, if he had lived seven centuries later, would have enjoyed writing a blog.

Confessio Amantis (Prologue: Motivation and Intent)

Of those who wrote before our lives
Their precious legacy survives;
From what was written then, we learn,
And so it’s well that we in turn,
In our allotted time on earth
Do write anew some things of worth,
Like those we from these sages cite,
So that such in like manner might,
When we have left this mortal sphere,
Remain for all the world to hear
In ages following our own.
But it is so that men are prone
To say that when one only reads
Of wisdom all day long, one breeds
A paucity of wit, and so
If you agree I’ll choose to go
Along a kind of middle ground
Sometimes I’ll write of things profound,
And sometimes for amusement’s sake
A lighter path of pleasure take
So all can something pleasing find.

-John Gower (1330 – 1408) England
Modern English version by Richard Brodie

John Gower