I saw the pines...
Very beautiful and still, and bending over
Their sharp heads against a quiet sky.
And there was peace in them, and I
Was happy, and forgot to play the lover...
Чуть больше десяти лет назад сфотографировал «Восхождение».
Одна из самых неудачных (технически), но любимых (идейно) работ.
And so,
Suffocated by monotony
And restless,
Life calls out for tragedy
The tide, spent, retreats for a time;
The mind too must lapse
From contemplating upon subject
Or else deathly exhaustion
Triumphs.
My Darya, how thee stay,
As high tide never ebbing,
Covering my mental shore
In thy divine embrace!
The meadowlark
And the red-winged blackbird
Call in the tall grass.
Listen to them!
They are part of the loveliness
Of things...
Of all words
spoke and written
Perhaps some ought to be
lost to the ages;
Forgetfulness norishes
The cult of mystic.
The lament of lost knowledge
Replaced by joy
Of discovery.
October commencing,
Summer begins her passing out of yearly existence.
With verdant leaves turnt new hues and a stark wind,
Autumn makes herself known.
Against a backdrop of grey expanse,
A procession of geese passes overhead;
Their multitude thinned by ambushers amongst the reeds.
Once jubilant and self-assured formation at start,
Now in tatters. Still,
They re-form, mourning their dead,
And go on.
"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."
-T.S. Elliot
Video by /channel/holobvnker
(text written by me)
I am in decline and am dying. Post-modernity, with all of its physical and mental poisons, is suffocating me with its polluted breath.
I must escape.
Like the ancients, I disappear into woodland.
Here, I worship Nature, primordial and original of the gods. And here, I accept morality. I move towards the Sun.
And upon return to that hometown, whether from war or other travels, you will find that time has passed you by; the old life has happened without you. And a certain sadness sets in, and all you can do is catch up, though maybe you never will
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Sometimes I think about what could have been if I didn't act stupid... but it's okay, I promise myself "I won't act stupid in the future" and yet I do
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Heat before break of day
Creeps up;
Anticipation riding before —
All sense this
Dreams of Summer transept
The mind — and yet,
It soon arriving, is spent too quickly
And gone in the blink
Of thine eye
My muse has left
To dance in brooks
And fall asleep
'Neath willow trees.
And I remain
To languish in mine
Uninspired gloom...
And the wind in the grass
Rustles.
The chirps of crickets
Among the sounds of things
Everywhere, the old gods are stirring... And living ruins are cast
Into poem by the bow
Of Tethy's sons.
Thinking about maybe putting together a little poetry group where we write one poem for each day of June
Let me know if you're interested!
Bowden reads an excerpt from Shakespeare's poem the rape of Lucrece
@EsotericBowdenism
Portrait of the Baroness of Bernus by Phillip Veit,1838
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We danced 'neath stars
Upon the ballroom floor
The night t'was ours
'til I awake once more
Lovely channel. Give them a follow
/channel/TheJollyReiver
