all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (Default)
Sometimes you start to write a long livejournal entry about something, only to realize midway through that what you really want is to talk to someone about it. This is one of those times. Unfortunately, the confidante I had in mind is in another time zone at the moment.

So, I'm going to spout some Robert Frost and go to bed.

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain--and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (second guess ineffability)
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if you wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

-E. E. Cummings
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (do not attempt)
In other new- Castle got renewed, yay! Go Nathan Fillion for having a job for another season, and also the other actors in the show who I didn't know previously but now like quite a lot.

---

And now for something completely different

I wait- with patience, with hope and trepidation- for the long promise of spring to be fulfilled.

Although I'm starting to feel as if I'm low on patience. This too shall pass.

---

And this again:
O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I
may be with you,
As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing
within me.


I don't love Walt Whitman without qualification- I think some of his stuff is just absolute rubbish- but I really do love some of his work. Especially this bit- it just seems so… accurate, somehow.

Reading back through my journal to find that snippet, I have decided that I do rather like my own style. Thank goodness, because that means I have one.

"It's a hard job, stating the obvious, but somebody's got to do it."
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (you and me)
I've been reading Burnt Norton (T. S. Eliot).

"What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden."

That's what particularly caught me tonight. The whole thing is quite interesting, though, and I recommend it, although you ought to come to it willing to take your time a bit. I especially like the still point of the turning world, which he addresses at too much length for me to copy it here without being a nuisance.

http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/norton.html
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (you and me)
"The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and providence their guide;
They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way."

I felt two things today- the wild, deep longing for something I cannot name, and the same pale dawn which drew me through the winter with my eyes ever forward to the promise it offered. Something in the wind whispers in my ear, and the white azaleas are in full bloom.

The winter has been long, and even now it is the promise only of hope. The bud could wither on the branch- or it could burst forth into flower.

I wait- with patience, with hope and trepidation- for the long promise of spring to be fulfilled.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (reading is sexy)
O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I
may be with you,
As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing
within me.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

PS- This icon, you say? I call it Reading Is Sexy. Because it is.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (suspension of disbelief)
Reading Walt Whitman's Leaves Of Grass in bits and pieces, saw this and liked it-

O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I
may be with you,
As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing
within me.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (frog princess)
Today I wrote my name
in yarn
it felt good

I didn't weave in the ends
I'm not finished yet
why should my name be?

Eight and six is
fourteen (quatorze)
and seven is
twenty-one
(blow out the candles
and make
a wish)
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (frog princess)
right…so, there was no horrible outcry against me posting my writing, so here some is. bit rough, etc.


Self-Portrait

I have been a stone
an errant breeze
a fathomless ocean
the bright leaping of a flame.
I have been the stars
and the endless night in which they sleep.
I have been the rose
and the thorn.

Now I am a tangle-
a snarled shred of wool
snagged on a rough stone wall.
I might be gold
or perhaps I am only straw,
no fairy tale to change me
into smooth and shining thread.

I am the song that circles round to its beginning,
unending and unresolved.
I am Ouroboros, the snake
who began to eat her own tail
(her tale, her song, her only story)
and having begun
can never stop.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (saying goodbye)
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned…

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
from W.B. Yeats's "The Second Coming"

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all strange wonders

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