A pearl 1
lease forgive me for indulging myself with another of my poems. This one is meant for the ear more than the eye. Let me know what you make of it. This is how it goes:
Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
he Benedictus is the name commonly given to the song which Zechariah prophesies in Luke 1:68-79. Zechariah speaks of God’s great plan and how it is about to be fulfilled in Israel. It’s a biblical theological song, meaning it tells us about where we are in God’s story of salvation.
Below the fold is a setting of the Benedictus in Common Metre. It was written to be sung to Lyngham, a beautiful tune often used with “O, for a thousand tongues to sing.”
here is an edge, cliff crevasse, vast abyss
in a hairline, spider-tracery on fresco of reality
stretch out your hand in trembling and wither not
–mystery of highest heaven–
touch the knife-edged crack, life in your hands,
see paint fleck off, peel away,
scenery sliced, fall flickering to the floor
And is it a cubicle with blank walls bland and bald?
No, beautiful bold bright horizon,
eggshell fallen to the ground,
the sun rising, life throbbing.
caffolding is not really that interesting by itself. It only exists to enable building work to be done to make more beautiful that which is to be seen. But nonetheless, here is some of the scaffolding for a poem I wrote some time ago.
he poet’s arrogance!
He prates poet-patter, pretentious prat,
–as though the world empearls
around that speck of dust!–
Styed distant eyes ad astra in destined disaster,
For blind men only follow Homer,
Scaréd and white,
Who stared into the bright void.
ark to the sound of the world turning,
the massive power of order.
Colours hold, atoms cohere.
Is there static? in this
Precise, pellucid, perfect clear perception?
What would it be like?
to see colours fade, snap back
go grey with flurry, bleed away,
drain.
To see outlines vanish, forms dissolve,
worlds shudder,
empty oscillation and chaos.
To explode with an atom,
fiery in the night,
come to be,
vanish away
sucked to the marrow, curlicues on the fabric of reality.
To hear sound, then nothing, but
ringing silence as
feet slide under the insubstantial earth.
must calm my heart,
it sudden leaps,
surges, filling my chest,
pressing on the bands
let me act! or do! or love!
there is enough within
foam from the top of a bottle,
brimming,
overflowing, pouring out,
through my fingers,
hands pressed to my side,
with each heartbeat
I am lighter,
and am I empty?
best work from last spasm
peerless drink the last drop
dragon’s blood
my very soul emerges,
looks around,
leaps,
in love, waterfall down
the mountain, giving and gone
a mist in the air,
and a last rainbow.
flower blooms in the garden of God.
All unexpected I happened upon
The garden gate and a glimpse of delight:
The violet sight of a cluster of grapes,
An amethyst in an emerald ring,
A purple robe on the floor of the grove.
The jewel-like garden of God is enskirt;
A thorny vine twines its writhing approach.
It seemed to me that each one of its fangs
Desired to pierce me, my hands and my side.
Black cloud came over the sky, and a cry
Within the walls, and I trembled in fear.
O the fury I saw as the lightning attacked,
As thunder fell and expended its wrath.
A hungry flame licked around the gate,
Each thorn was ablaze in a moment, and, black,
The vine that closed me out dropped down
To the earth, and I entered by the door.
ilence on the black towers and
Hush in the wet streets and
Blankness on the Thames;
Pain in my straining ears, ringing ears, and
Wool in the muzzled sky.
If only a voice would cry and crack the
Frozen air, or a wind moan.
The hills would shake and shudder
And earth would breathe again.
arkness over bright hills,
A great wind and deep silence
A trembling in the earth
And breathless, proud
I stand on the cliff,
Eyes open.
And fire from heaven falls:
A sound of the earth breaking,
Incandescent crash.
