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" To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."

William Blake
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring -
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring    
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush      
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush      
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.      

What is all this juice and all this joy?      
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,      
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,      
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,      
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning

Source: Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose (Penguin Classics, 1985)
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A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
                                 Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Nevermore

Oct. 8th, 2015 02:56 pm
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In memory of Edgar Allan Poe
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Felix-Dennis-006

Sad to hear of the death of publishing millionaire Felix Dexter, from throat cancer.  He started as co-editor of OZ magazine which saw him very quickly in hot water over allowing 5th/6th formers to edit their magazine, resulting in a lewd Rupert Bear cartoon strip being published.  It made national headlines and he and the editors were arrested - eventually the conviction was quashed but not without a lengthy court case and Scotland Yard continually haranguing them.

He became successful in his own publishing company, capitalising on the new martial arts trend of the early seventies with his magazine Kung-Fu monthly and was one of the forerunners of the new computer magazines.  Later he created ultimate boys mag Maxim and accumulated smaller titles, including Viz, Fortean Times and Bizarre. Now this makes him sound like another odious money magnate, but his later life saw a change of direction. He began planting small woods and eventually planted over 500 acres of woodland, in access of a million indigenous trees to date. I appreciated his eccentricity: he had a garden of over 40 bronze statues in his Garden of Heroes and Villains' which included Galileo and Churchill, Stephen Hawking and one of ancient man attacking a woolly mammoth.

He also became a poet.

His highfalutin critics scorned his attempts, but he thoroughly researched his trade and became rather good at it.  Stephen Fry considered him to be "the real thing" Hugh Laurie quoted that he was "annoyingly good" and even high brow newspapers such as The Times conceded that he was "an engaging monster, full of contradictions and reeking in sulphur." He had become a "piratical, passionate poet" and had gathered a sizable following - another two fingers to a lit crit establishment that found him too vulgar or too well-placed in the media .  Colourful, dramatic and absolutely bonkers brilliant.

Do whatever your heart desires,
     But do it soon, do it soon;
Gathering years will gutter the fires—
  Bright the sun but pale the moon.
     Do it soon, do it soon.

Chase whichever the dream you nursed,
     But do it well, do it well;
Swallow the best, spit out the worst—
  Tell the mockers: ‘Rot in hell!’
     Do it well, do it well.

Wed whomever will love you long,
     But do it now, do it now;
Smother your lover in light and song—
  All is dark beneath the plough.
     Do it now, do it now!

http://www.felixdennis.com/themes/

On the Up

Apr. 23rd, 2014 06:51 pm
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Back at college and today has been a good day - peppered with coughs and sniffs, but infinitely better. Bit thin on the ground with students (including self - four narrowed down to three), but we managed. I have three assignments to think of - think I might go with a poem for TH3 (Grace Nichols - The Fat, Black Woman goes Shopping). I was going to read Monica Ali's Brick Lane, but fear I will run out of time and I need to use two new theories.  Whereas, I can use Post Colonial and Marxism for this.

Grace Nichols - The Fat, Black Woman Goes Shopping )

Anyway, reasons for my happy day:

1) Poet specialist likes my stuff and says a) I shouldn't ever give up, as this is my thing b) Is surprised that I haven't really done it before (I did some about 12 years ago, but it was therapy rather than poetry).


2) My photo of of Claire has made The H.E. Bulletin.

3) More of our class stuff will be taken on board by the archaeology bigwig from the BSc course for their bicentennial project.

4) Lecturer is thinking of using my Fal Building poetry as part of their further education blurb.


Get me!!! :-DDD
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I am starting to develop a soft spot for Pablo Neruda - even though some of his poetry could be considered too modern for some traditionalists and more observational than say the usual iambic patterns, he has a way with words that strike a chord.

Pablo Neruda Poetry -----> http://www.poemhunter.com/pablo-neruda/poems/
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There is a new poetry page on LJ [livejournal.com profile] yearofpoetry - just started up.  If anyone feels like joining and contributing, please knock on their door :-)
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At the first glance, this seems to be about rape, but actually it is about a dream of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, as dreamed by Mary Shelley.  We were given this as an unbroken paragraph and had to try to work out where the punctuation was.  I found it a LOT easier to transcribe than the ee cummings one about a kingfisher (suffice to say it was a bit nuts even for me).

In any case this poem is about how a dream once realised, can be an inspired piece of work.  It is about how the creative force can take you over. Who ever said that the Gothic genre was dull?

Dreaming of Frankenstein - By Liz Lockeheart )

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