“ . . . A Robin Redbreast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions. A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus’d upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fiber from the Brain does tear . . . ”
I wish to put a hold on life, freeze it at this instant; stop my headlong race to reach some intangible resolution before life, and with it death, overtake me.
Yet, a wanton fervour forces me to write; a defining greed pushes me on; a need to achieve, to find the telling phrase to verify my competence.
There is a frenzy on me, a new lust for life alien to my past; but still I draw on that very past to colour the present and steer me into my aspired future.
My imperative is to leave an imprint on the foreshore of my life before its tide recedes. Regardless of renown, I wish to leave a noble fragment of myself with a proven hint of worth to carry me beyond my grave.
Such fragments, the flotsam of my endeavours, washed up and left for those seashore scavengers, those ardent beachcombers of other people’s detritus; my scraps left for Autolycus to pick over. I need the harvest of my life to be another’s prized perception, their acquired inspiration.
And yet I know I must desist, I must allow those morsels, slivers of myself already extant, to speak for themselves, to represent me to the future.
I must accept that already I have utilised my credit with the past and created my memorial for the future.
“These fragments I must shore against my ruin.”
The quotation appearing at the beginning and end of my poem is, slightly adapted, taken from T.S.Eliot’s poem “The Wasteland”.
Delilah, of course, took away Samson’s Life Force, his strength, by cutting off his hair whilst asleep.
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow.
T.S. Eliot (The Journey of the Magi)
I wrote this poem, as I did several of my recently blogged poems, many years ago. In ‘A Death I Die’ below the sober thoughts reflect a dark mood, the reason for which I now have no recollection. For me, at the time of writing, they obviously represented the Shadow, that halfway house between knowing and not-knowing, between what is and what might be, between Eliot’s ‘the motion and the act’.
A DEATH I DIE
I have no heart for selfish love that starts and ends with flesh. It leads along an endless path, it binds, compels afresh.
There is a sort of death I die; Am killed and kill myself. I am alone in this. I am a willing suicide. I go on a journey bearing my own end.
This death is a habit, a nasty selfish habit I know and hate it. I both give and receive. The giving is good – but also a habit.
Receiving – an infinite regression. We plan the means and the end is all. Purgatory is the cemetery, time the resurrection. And All is planned that This should be so.
When the world feels dark bring a Torch Let the Torch be brightly lit Let it illuminate the darkest corners of Earth May Earth play its part and forever spin For a spinning Wheel gathers no more Covid And Covid will be killed by the Needle And through the eye of that very Needle Will Nature work her magic And bring us all a Spring to recall Life renewed in Hope For ‘Hope is the thing with Feathers … Which never stops at all.‘
VERSE – WHB: Dec.2018 . . . [ With acknowledgement to Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) ]
Following on from my previous blog on the subject – 2 days ago – I re-print below the results of continuously pressing the LEFT-SIDE Predicted Text suggestions from my SwiftKey keyboard (the line-breaks are my own!) . . .
… is the kiss of the sea reaches the moon in the sun won’t be the one to end my life has come to the brink and I have no idea how much of it will help me In telling verse Ideas diverse Intersperse my thoughts Broaching and the fact I have had to blink to be with you for commenting and I hope you like the rest of your email with your comments and suggestions on how we can improve the 3-level 4 of 3rd party needs to get the best out of fashion shop and the best way for us in order for us from discarded litter of our boys in the morning and the Heather clad on Sunday morning as they will not let me know when 3rd is best to be there for 2pm or just the same for the rest… et al
A somewhat different result was produced when I tried sequential predicting of text from the right-hand side of my Swiftkey keyboard. ( the symbols, on my keyboard, but unfortunately not reproduced here in WordPress, were in fact all brightly coloured emoticons) . . . SEE BELOW
Predictive text 3 (Right-side Word)
The war against us in a slice the government in a net and made a pass through a few days later in a couple of my youth to help the people with a weird and boring and to gather all of their performances and the infinite variety and a better place for a meal in their wistful with their parents a bit young � a bit more than they had been see in our hotel we had one 1⃣ one 1⃣ the one 1⃣ had to stay at the very top � but they have no choice and it seems to me a while away and a lifetime to get a refund back � it was meant for a while in France �� and a lifetime ago made the first hurdle on my soul mate lol …
. . . Why Not . . . Give Predictive Text a try on your mobile/tablet/computer? You might produce a fictional masterpiece!