About me

A Man In Transition

Recent comments

karol on A Gentle Reminder
karol on Cat Question

Helen Thomas, Lynne Stewart, a vat of anchovies and me ... indeed!
-Glenn Reynolds

The World Needs Art

Here's something from William Blake, who is best known for his transcendent poetry.  Blake was an accomplished painter in addition to being one of the great poets of all time.  This is "The Ancient of Days," a 1794 painting that now hangs in the British Museum in London:

Posted by: Jheka at July 20, 2006 01:26 | link | comments (2) |
art

The Return of Friday Poetry - An Old Favorite

Yesterday, my favorite poetry book arrived in my mailbox.  This is my favorite poem from my favorite book of poetry.  Try reading it out loud once or twice to get a feel for the pacing and rhythm:

Amaryllis

Having been a farmer's daughter
she didn't want to be a farmer's wife, didn't want
the smell of ripe manure in all his clothes,
the corresponding flies in her kitchen,
a pail of slop below the sink,
a crate of baby chicks beside the stove, piping
beneath their bare lightbulb, cows calling at the gate
for him to com, cows standing in the chute
as he crops their hornswith his long sharp shears.
So she nagged him toward a job in town;
so she sprang from the table, weeping, when he swore;
so, after supper, she sulks over her mending
as he unfolds his pearl pocketknife
to trim a callus on his palm.
Too much like his mother, he says, not knowing
any other reason why she spoils the children,
or why he comes in from the combine with his wrenches
to find potatoes boiled dry in their pot,
his wife in the parlor on the bench
at her oak piano--not playing
you understand, just sitting like a fern
in that formal room.
                                      So much time to think,
these long hours: like her mother,
each night she goes to bed when her husband's tired,
gets up when he gets up, and in between tries
not to move, listening to the sleep of this good man
who lies beside and over her.  So much time alone,
since everything he knows is practical.
Just this morning, he plunged an icepick
into the bloated side of the cow unable to rise,
dying where it fell, its several stomachs having failed--
too full, he said, of sweet wet clover.

-Ellen Bryant Voigt

Posted by: Jheka at July 14, 2006 01:07 | link | comments (2) |
poetry

Fourth of July Post

Here's a one time Independence Day post for my friends.  As an immigrant and an American, I am not sure that I can properly convey how much I care for this country ... both what it is and what it can be.

I do not plan, at this time, to restart TDB (though I may, one day ... we'll see) but feel free to post here and discuss anything you like on this wonderful holiday.  Remember - you have to register with Motime (takes just a minute or 2) to comment.

Posted by: Jheka at July 04, 2006 01:37 | link | comments (87) |