unask

 

 

A break, now, for a week. The next posting will be on Sunday April 26.

 

 

 

angel tiger

 

For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.

For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.

 

From Christopher Smart, My cat Jeoffry

 

 

the swan

 

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?

Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?

And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

 

Mary Oliver

 

 

 

scamel

there is a new entry in our scamel blog.

 

 

 

fire and gold

 

The monotone of the rain is beautiful,
And the sudden rise and slow relapse
Of the long multitudinous rain.

The sun on the hills is beautiful,
Or a captured sunset sea-flung,
Bannered with fire and gold.

A face I know is beautiful--
With fire and gold of sky and sea,
And the peace of long warm rain.

Carl Sandburg, Monotone.

 

 

electric

 

Poetry,
you are an electric,
a magic field--like the space
between a sleepwalker's outheld arms!

 

Bill Knott, Poem To Poetry

 

 

Bird

 

It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

 

Pablo Neruda

 

 

Passions

 

Passions do not exist in objects, nor in the senses, nor in the space between, nor anywhere else. Then where are they, that they torment the whole world? They are nothing but illusions. So, my heart, leave behind your fear, and strive towards wisdom. Why should you put yourself through hell for no reason?

 

Shantideva