jade_sabre: (hav: st. francis has birds on the brain)
whine whine moan moan complain complain as you will, but I've been in a cummings kind of mood:

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

and apparently [livejournal.com profile] loquaciousquark JUST DISCOVERED Gerard Manly Hopkins and fell in love with him all on her own (even though wait, I totally posted this poem earlier last year wait, look at that first comment there), so here's another one by him:

15. The Caged Skylark
AS a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage
Man’s mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells—
That bird beyond the remembering his free fells;
This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life’s age.

Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage,
Both sing sometímes the sweetest, sweetest spells,
Yet both droop deadly sómetimes in their cells
Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.

Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no rest—
Why, hear him, hear him babble and drop down to his nest,
But his own nest, wild nest, no prison.

Man’s spirit will be flesh-bound when found at best,
But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed
For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bónes rísen.

SO National Poetry Month is coming up soon and generally I fail at it but I have a CLASS this year so MWAH-HAHAHA guess what we will be doing EVERY DAY I am an evil genius. Anyway, if you have any requests, name 'em here! (Past poems can always be found under the tag.)
jade_sabre: (batb:  great wide somewhere)
So I was driving down to Quark's apartment today looking at all the colorful trees and the hills and the rivers and I was just so happy. so happy. I haven't been home for fall in five years; I'd forgotten how much I love it. ND has an awesome fall too; I don't remember fall in Seattle much at all. (Probably because it dropped down to fifty and then just stayed there.) And it's chilly outside but not too cold to play, and the leaves are gorgeous, and it's football season, and it's NaNo season (and I don't feel like doing NaNo itself but I do want to write), and life is just lovely.

And then of course I spent like forty minutes on two miles of traffic because an 18-wheeler had gone off the road (it looked cool, but forty minutes of my life) (forty minutes of Dragon Age!), and so I became kind of grumpy, but while driving down the back highways, looking at the county folks having garage sales at the crossroads and goats grazing in the fields, this is what came to my mind:

Pied Beauty
Gerard Manley Hopkins

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
  For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
    For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
  Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
    And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
  Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
    With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                  Praise him.
jade_sabre: (sweeney todd:  blood-spattered Johanna)

From Second April

Edna St. Vincent Millay

We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are, — but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
That flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table's ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the coloured book upon the floor.

Those Who Love
Sara Teasdale

Those who love the most,
Do not talk of their love,
Francesca, Guinevere,
Deirdre, Iseult, Heloise,
In the fragrant gardens of heaven
Are silent, or speak if at all
Of fragile, inconsequent things.

And a woman I used to know
Who loved one man from her youth,
Against the strength of the fates
Fighting in somber pride,
Never spoke of this thing,
But hearing his name by chance,
A light would pass over her face.
jade_sabre: (s&s:  margaret's blade of grass)
I just read it in my inbox and, well, I think it rather matches my moods:

by Jeffrey Harrison

It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.

It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go
jade_sabre: (superior:  exa and sheila)
i live! and lovie lives with me! these are all excellent things. like my job! but i will say nothing further about that for now. for now i just have links[ys].

1) can anyone give me the name of a good Napoleon biography? I feel like if I am going to be an obsessive coup-de-foudre fangirl of his I can at least know aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the stories behind the heartache described in these kate beaton comics.

2) is it sad to say this changed my life? perhaps not changed, but threw it into startlingly beautiful perspective, if only for a moment. And I was content.

excerpt, and mutterings )

3) Speaking of going back four-or-five years, someone on Facebook mentioned that Folk Choir is going to sing Biebl's Ave Maria, to which I scoffed a tiny bit because Folk Choir is good and all but this is not their kind of song, and also because freshman year of college I went to a ND-and-Michigan-Glee-Clubs concert, from which I discovered Guster due to the Michigan's-version-of-the-Undertones's cover of Mona Lisa (the only track I still have from the sadly lost CD). Anyway, they had the boys onstage and also in the balcony behind the stage, and the chant solo in the middle was sung from up there, and it was just--

better described by freshman!Jade )

4) Speaking of college, or things I learned in college, or rather a lot of conversations I have been having recently about women in college and the like, or perhaps just feminism: Maureen Johnson on the whole "boys aren't reading!/don't have anything to read!" outcry (or, how a penis makes what you write suddenly interesting to the populace at large).

5) New Glee! WHY IS MY FLIST NOT DISCUSSING THIS MORE. Please do not tell me I got into Glee just in time for everyone else to be bored and ditch it, because so much happened, and it was all pretty cool! *sob*

EXTRA BONUS LIMITED-TIME-ONLY LINK: [livejournal.com profile] romanitas graciously agreed to un-flock this hilarious, almost Growing-Up-Cullen-esque Merlin...joke...parody...hilarious thing that she and her friend did. READ IT BEFORE SHE FLOCKS IT AGAIN.
jade_sabre: (Default)
I was in the mood for a nature-y poem, and though I should post one about sunshine to celebrate today, the last day of sunshine before next week (according to the weatherman), I picked this one instead, because it is simple and pretty and I like it. It's just very...poem-y-y, I guess.

Side note: when I went to find it online for copy-and-paste purposes, I typed "how to see" into my Google search bar, and it gave me everything from
"hidden friends"
"private profiles"
and most of them had to do with Myspace
which tells me people searching Google
don't want to look out their windows.

So today, in honor of seeing outside, from Philip Booth:

How to See Deer
Forget roadside crossings.
Go nowhere with guns.
Go elsewhere your own way,

lonely and wanting. Or
stay and be early:
next to deep woods

inhabit old orchards.
All clearings promise.
Sunrise is good,

and fog before sun.
Expect nothing always;
find your luck slowly.

Wait out the windfall.
Take your good time
to learn to read ferns;

make like a turtle:
downhill toward slow water.
Instructed by heron,

drink the pure silence.
Be compassed by wind.
If you quiver like aspen

trust your quick nature:
let your ear teach you
which way to listen.

You've come to assume
protective color; now
colors reform to

new shapes in your eye.
You've learned by now
to wait without waiting;

as if it were dusk
look into light falling;
in deep relief

things even out. Be
careless of nothing. See
what you see.
jade_sabre: (p&p:  Elizabeth smiling)
the National Poetry Month suggestion box is now open and accepting ideas. Be forewarned that unless you contribute, you may find an unbearable amount of T.S. Eliot in this month's selections.

To help get everyone pumped, here's the link to the official website. Within that, I would highlight Poem-A-Day (from whose offerings ideas and selections will be gleaned) and 30 Ways to Celebrate National Poetry Month, especially looking at this idea (suggestions for making it tenable for LJ?) and this other one (which I am already working on for this year*).

Happy Poem-Hunting!

*HO CRAP APPARENTLY MY ONE FROM BRIT LIT I IS NOT IN MY OUTBOX oh woe--luckily, in my textbooks, I had a system for which quotes were going into the commonplace book that included labeling them, so I'll just have to type everything up again, which I have to do for this semester anyway, no big deal. Also, it will help refresh my memory for those entries in the LOL section, which sometimes no longer made sense out of context.
jade_sabre: (firefly:  also he's a doctor (aka gratui)

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

conclusion: Prufrock is sexy.


jade_sabre: (Default)

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