These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye: The weak lay hand on what the strong has done, Till that be tumbled that was lifted high And discord follow upon unison, And all things at one common level lie. And therefore, friend, if your great race were run And these things came, so much the more thereby Have you made greatness your companion, Although it be for children that you sigh: These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye.
(W. B. Yeats, "These are the Clouds," The Green Helmet and Other Poems, 1910)
Obligatory words: just thought this place could use some poetry.
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Thu Apr 20, 2017 6:46 pm
by norton ash
Long-Legged Fly
That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent Where the maps are spread, His eyes fixed upon nothing, A hand under his head. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence.
That the topless towers be burnt And men recall that face, Move most gently if move you must In this lonely place. She thinks, part woman, three parts a child, That nobody looks; her feet Practise a tinker shuffle Picked up on a street. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence.
That girls at puberty may find The first Adam in their thought, Shut the door of the Pope's chapel, Keep those children out. There on that scaffolding reclines Michael Angelo. With no more sound than the mice make His hand moves to and fro. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence.
One of his last, 1939.
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Thu Apr 20, 2017 7:07 pm
by Blue
At the Bomb Testing Site William Stafford 1960
At noon in the desert a panting lizard waited for history, its elbows tense, watching the curve of a particular road as if something might happen.
It was looking at something farther off than people could see, an important scene acted in stone for little selves at the flute end of consequences.
There was just a continent without much on it under a sky that never cared less. Ready for a change, the elbows waited. The hands gripped hard on the desert.
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Thu Apr 20, 2017 7:47 pm
by Cordelia
A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries Are forever lost to me
Had I but further scanned Had I secured the Glow In an Hermetic Memory It had availed me now.
Never to pass the Angel With a glance and a Bow Till I am firm in Heaven Is my intention now.
~ Emily Dickinson ~
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Thu Apr 20, 2017 8:16 pm
by norton ash
STEER YOUR WAY By Leonard Cohen
Steer your way through the ruins of the Altar and the Mall Steer your way through the fables of Creation and the Fall Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought
Steer your heart past the Truth you believed in yesterday Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought
Steer your path through the pain that is far more real than you That has smashed the Cosmic Model, that has blinded every View And please don’t make me go there, though there be a God or not Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought
They whisper still, the injured stones, the blunted mountains weep As he died to make men holy, let us die to make things cheap And say the Mea Culpa, which you’ve gradually forgot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought
Steer your way, O my heart, though I have no right to ask To the one who was never never equal to the task Who knows he’s been convicted, who knows he will be shot Year by year Month by month Day by day Thought by thought
I'd like a sleepy veldt to dream upon as unbraided tides caress the dawn a melting breathless cloud of skin to shed unknotted mem'ries in
so may the wind be celes fair that witching travels up her hair for any sigh, solidified might dissipate to join the sky
mayoi you fiery pull on me and burning new we snowy sea the words of giants can't replace live shadows playing on your face with thousand flowers wend around thy as all the statued poets lie still I say it sweating sun to chrono race
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 9:05 am
by Cordelia
Baby's so high, that she's skying Yes she's flying, afraid to fall I'll tell you why baby's crying Cause she's dying, aren't we all...
~ Sylvia Plath ~
(bridge lines sung in falsetto in Harry Chapin's 'Taxi')
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 11:08 am
by Searcher08
As every flower fades and as all youth Departs, so life at every stage, So every virtue, so our grasp of truth, Blooms in its day and may not last forever. Since life may summon us at every age Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor, Be ready bravely and without remorse To find new light that old ties cannot give. In all beginnings dwells a magic force For guarding us and helping us to live. Serenely let us move to distant places And let no sentiments of home detain us.
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces. If we accept a home of our own making, Familiar habit makes for indolence. We must prepare for parting and leave-taking Or else remain the slave of permanence. Even the hour of our death may send Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces, And life may summon us to newer races. So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.
Hermann Hesse
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 12:24 pm
by Cordelia
Reconciliation
Word over all, beautiful as the sky! Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost; That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly wash again, ---- And ever again, this soiled world: For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I draw near; I bend down, and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.
~ Walt Whitman ~
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 2:12 pm
by 82_28
"No" Lyrics
Subhumans no i don't believe in jesus christ my mother died of cancer when i was 5 no i don't believe in religion i was forced to go to church, i wasn't told why
no i don't believe in the police force police brutality isn't a dream no i don't believe in the system cos nothing it does makes sense to me
don't worry you'll get over it you'll grow up, you'll calm down another youth, another fashion you'll get over it, you'll calm down
you don't really mean what you say you've had too much to drink don't be so full of hated it's not as bad as you think
no i don't believe in what you say you're just part of what i despise yes you're part of the fucking system i ain't blind, i can see your lies cos the system thrives on ignorance what the public don't know, they can't reject in the face of you all i stand defiant the rest of the people, they wanna forget
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 2:26 pm
by Cordelia
SECOND PLANET
You appeared at the dinner party just when the tender sky went gold and green and blue. “Sister planet,” I said (a little too loudly).
The other guests receded to distant orbits. as your sulfur heat sank my stockings down my thighs and coiled the hair at my temples. I saw what volcanoes might do if I got close enough.
For once I thought I’d seduce someone, spin your crescent round to full light, teach astronomers what a telescope is for.
But what do I know? Two days later (a year and a half on Earth) your opaque sheen reflects back my desire politely. Seems the heat was not an invitation.
~ Meg Yardley ~
ORIGAMI
Of course you can fold a bird. A rabbit that puffs up at your breath. Two interlocking rings from a single sheet
of kami. A waterlily. A star box. But now try folding the jade plant you left in the car
to be scorched by the sun. Try folding Afghanistan. Fold the wrinkles of that conversation you wanted to have.
Inside-reverse-fold the empty space in your Sundays. Try folding this city
of layers, peeling back taxis, scarves, quarters dropped in paper cups, Rockefeller Plaza. Beginning with a bird base,
fold the Spanish jumbled in your ears. Quickly. Fold the edges of the wind that cuts in
from the river. Make one valley fold diagonally. Fold failures. Try folding the empty space in your Sundays.
Start from a bird base again: that small girl whose long dark hair looks like hers.
Fold the seven days of the week from a single sheet of kami. Try folding money into more money. In ten steps or less,
fold this city of layers. Petal-fold the winter until it lies flat at the bottom of the star box
with Afghanistan and the empty space in your Sundays. Now open up the bird: count the creases left in the paper.
~ Meg Yardley ~
Re: These are the Clouds
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 2:26 pm
by Elvis
SOCRATES
Silence, old man, give heed to the prayers.
In an hierophantic tone
Oh! most mighty king, the boundless air, that keepest the earth suspended in space, thou bright Aether and ye venerable goddesses, the Clouds, who carry in your loins the thunder and the lightning, arise, ye sovereign powers and manifest yourselves in the celestial spheres to the eyes of your sage.
STREPSIADES
Not yet! Wait a bit, till I fold my mantle double, so as not to get wet. And to think that I did not even bring my travelling cap! What a misfortune!
SOCRATES ignoring this
Come, oh! Clouds, whom I adore, come and show yourselves to this man, whether you be resting on the sacred summits of Olympus, crowned with hoar-frost, or tarrying in the gardens of Ocean, your father, forming sacred choruses with the Nymphs; whether you be gathering the waves of the Nile in golden vases or dwelling in the Maeotic marsh or on the snowy rocks of Mimas, hearken to my prayer and accept my offering. May these sacrifices be pleasing to you.
Amidst rumblings of thunder the CHORUS OF CLOUDS appears.
CHORUS singing
Eternal Clouds, let us appear; let us arise from the roaring depths of Ocean, our father; let us fly towards the lofty mountains, spread our damp wings over their forest-laden summits, whence we will dominate the distant valleys, the harvest fed by the sacred earth, the murmur of the divine streams and the resounding waves of the sea, which the unwearying orb lights up with its glittering beams. But let us shake off the rainy fogs, which hide our immortal beauty and sweep the earth from afar with our gaze.
SOCRATES
Oh, venerated goddesses, yes, you are answering my call!
To STREPSIADES.
Did you hear their voices mingling with the awful growling of the thunder?
STREPSIADES
Oh! adorable Clouds, I revere you and I too am going to let off my thunder, so greatly has your own affrighted me.
My mother—preferring the strange to the tame: Dove-note, bone marrow, deer dung, Frog’s belly distended with finny young, Leaf-mold wilderness, harebell, toadstool, Odd, small snakes roving through the leaves, Metallic beetles rambling over stones: all Wild and natural!—flashed out her instinctive love, and quick, she Picked up the fluttering, bleeding bat the cat laid at her feet, And held the little horror to the mirror, where He gazed on himself, and shrieked like an old screen door far off.
Depended from her pinched thumb, each wing Came clattering down like a small black shutter. Still tranquil, she began, “It’s rather sweet ...” The soft mouse body, the hard feral glint In the caught eyes. Then we saw, And recoiled: lice, pallid, yellow, Nested within the wing-pits, cozily sucked and snoozed. The thing dropped from her hands, and with its thud, Swiftly, the cat, with a clean careful mouth Closed on the soiled webs, growling, took them out to the back stoop.
But still, dark blood, a sticky puddle on the floor Remained, of all my mother’s tender, wounding passion For a whole wild, lost, betrayed, and secret life Among its dens and burrows, its clean stones, Whose denizens can turn upon the world With spitting tongue, an odor, talon, claw, To sting or soil benevolence, alien As our clumsy traps, our random scatter of shot. She swept to the kitchen. Turning on the tap, She washed and washed the pity from her hands.