+++++++++++++++++++++++++
"The man is a cheshire cat: all smile and no substance. At least he disappears every now and then."+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Death of a Peasant ~
R. S. ThomasYou remember Davies? He died, you know,
With his face to the wall, as the manner is
Of the poor peasant in his stone croft
On the Welsh hills. I recall the room
Under the slates, and the smirched snow
Of the wide bed in which he lay,
Lonely as an ewe that is sick to lamb
In the hard weather of mid-March.
I remember also the trapped wind
Tearing the curtains, and the wild light's
Frequent hysteria upon the floor,
The bare floor without a rug
Or mat to soften the loud tread
Of neighbours crossing the uneasy boards
To peer at Davies with gruff words
Of meaningless comfort, before they turned
Heartless away from the stale smell
Of death in league with those dank walls.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
There is a bleak, grim beauty to many of R. S Thomas' earlier works, and this is an excellent example of all that is good about that side of his poetry. He has a wonderfully casual and compassionate voice in his writing, frequently coloured with a kind of stoic melancholy.
He is my favourite poet to read aloud, along with Dylan Thomas. In fact, the two Welsh Thomases are the only reason I still write today, as the brilliance of certain poems perpetually inspires my love of the artform.
I chose this poem in particular, because it fits in nicely with the news in my life for the past week.
That is,
I have been afflicted with the Plague!I am lying of course. there is no way my life will ever be glamorous enough to warrant the plague.
I just get a horrible respiratory infection. I feel so special that I'm going to go into detail on the subject.
Do you feel special?
I bet you do

So, here is
the week that was:
Sunday afternoon - felt cold and ached.
Monday - woke up and could barely move. Aches, chills, fever, and headaches. Complete loss of appetite. Saw Doc, was told to rest, and given certain measures to clean sinuses and throat of infection.
Tuesday - like Monday, sans visit to doctor.
Wednesday - it was monday all over again, but coughs were becoming an issue. SLeep pattern now disrupted. Advised that the fever stage of the infection should be peaking today or tomorrow. Come back if problems persist past friday morning/lunch.
Thursday - less aches, headaches still strong - was able to eat a solid meal. Coughing strongly could not sleep.
Friday - not very achey. minimal headaches. explosive coughing. Had to visit bank, so had take-out noodles for dinner - this was good. Could not sleep - this was not good. At 4.30am (saturday) arose from bed once again to spit bile into my bathroom sink, and then realise it is tinged with blood.
Very disconcerting to my sleep-deprived brain.
Decided to stay up, and abused the internet with my presence. My brother has now seen me playing the banjo and singing a bad bluegrass song about a homely russian mail-order bride. My family street cred has thusly been immortalised.
Saturday - which was technically a mere continuation of Friday, saw me again with headaches, but not so much witht he aches or chills, thank goodness. After splurging out on a dozen eggs and half a kilo of bacon, I ate another solid meal, and started to feel human. At this rate I'll make it back to work AND not collapse into a decayed puddle of corpsification on the office floor.
Life, therefore, is looking up, and longer term than it did at the start of this week.
This message brought to you by
The Bureau of Reminding People why it is Good that Darkcrescendo stays off the InternetBenedictions all!
.
SOUNDZINE
Visit ~
Soundzine - Peruse the archives. Get a microphone and submit something. Don't let fear get in the way of trying something new!
Here, allow me to
[link] you to the Soundzine webpage.
These are the poems of mine that I still enjoy reading, in roughly descending value.A Memory for an Old FriendEulogyMemorial under StreetlightsWell AcquaintedWinterBlueAliveShades of SleepMantraA Blank PageTales in ReadCold ComfortStanding In DustHalf a GlassTapestries[link] - this journal of mine is an example of what a year of utilising DA's literary resources can potentially do for you. Have a look. This is also a good 'before and after' example of my works.
Prepare to laugh. A lot. I can also promise cringing.
Benedictions!
Devious Comments
--
Do you like to roleplay ?
---------> [link] <---------
--
Literature Gallery Director
lovetodeviate@volunteers.deviantart.com
*Writers-Workshop | `seniormentors
--
down drain. no pork- images of oval track you fell.
--
Its so easy to laugh
Its so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
I hope you enjoy what you come across!
Benedictions
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
--
down drain. no pork- images of oval track you fell.
--
Its so easy to laugh
Its so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
--
To twist one purest cause
Into an honest verse,
Itself, a call to angels.
The saddened lips of song that
Kiss away our innocence
From the vile mundane.
~justb
And yourself?
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
--
To twist one purest cause
Into an honest verse,
Itself, a call to angels.
The saddened lips of song that
Kiss away our innocence
From the vile mundane.
~justb
--
But I -being poor- have only my dreams --Yeats
..and who knows. I may replace my computer and pop into DA every now and then.
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
It's nice to see you're still kicking around.
My computer is dead, I must confess, and about the only poetic work I've been up to are some recordings for Soundzine.
How have you been?
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
--
_//LEMONTEA||MORE.ADDICTIVE.THAN.HEROIN_+''
Coop
back here y'scamp
--
[x]
I have to admit the younger generation is really pushing the limits...but how are they going to make you an old geezer at 24?
ANd thank you...so far it goes well. We get to talk about phobias on thursday that should be fun.
--
~In Remember of :~*Rubius Honor Woschkolup*~
~*If LIfe is Like a Dream...Then Why Do We Sleep?*~
--
~In Remember of :~*Rubius Honor Woschkolup*~
~*If LIfe is Like a Dream...Then Why Do We Sleep?*~
--
passively aggressive oh and a professional slob
How are you?
Quote stolen gleefully, good sir.
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
- H. P. Lovecraft Metrical Regularity (1915)
Previous Page12345... Next Page