In Keeping and Why Not

  • Happy Birthday, Thomas Sterns, just a little belated, we still go through “those certain, half-deserted streets, the muttering retreats…”
  • Born: September 26, 1888, St. Louis
  • Died: January 4, 1965, London
  • Cause of Death: Emphysema
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
Ah, yes, the man.
The hero of many a lit class, many an English survivor. Who among us did not read “The Wasteland” or at least “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock”? It occurs to me now though not then, why were we not queried on behalf of “love song”? Why indeed is it called a love song?
And about the above, how do we make it thru the parts where there is not only no ecstasy, but torment?
 In The Paris Review

2nd June 1951: American-English poet and playwright, TS Eliot (1888 – 1965). He wrote amongst many other things, ‘The Waste Land ‘ and the plays, ‘The Cocktail Party’ and ‘Murder in the Cathedral’. Original Publication: Picture Post – 5314 – Are Poets Really Necessary? – pub. 1951 (Photo by George Douglas/Picture Post/Getty Images)

Making A Great Day Splendid

It doesn’t take much for me anymore—to find the sweetness in a day. Today was simply splendid as I was able to get back to the pool for swimming. As it turns out, when the pool reopened they did not reinstitute the restrictions for age and compromised people (such as I with chronic asthma & bronchitis to boot)! So, luckily I called and found out, along with reservations made for lap lanes. Along with today I’m now scheduled through August, every Monday, Wednesday & Friday, at 1 o’clock. Splendid, I say!

Psyche's Call with Donna May 1tSepoatnsso7rehd · “Begin to weave and the divine will provide the thread.” ~Old Proverb

Posted by Psyche’s Call by Donna May

I saw this and thought about Joseph Campbell and his “Follow Your Bliss.” Because, as we know, when you do this the Universe opens doors for you. We also know there are always those for whom this does not occur. I think of van Gogh dying in poverty. And writers of course. More than one writer gave all only to fail. *Sigh* Still, driven by passion there is no choice.

As I posted “A Mouthful of Forevers” twice, I thought I’d do some checking into Clementine von Radics and see what else she had to say. Quite a bit it turns out. So here we have dear Clementine, as splendid as poetry herself.

“My battered heart will always be
where the ocean meets the sand, I
will break over and over

Every day. That is the best and
worst part of me.”
― Clementine von Radics

“I mean you ask me
not to fall in love with you
and then you go write poems
with your tongue
and draw constellations
in my freckles.”
― Clementine von Radics, As Often As Miracles

“But my heart is an old house
(the kind my mother
grew up in)
hell to heat and cool
and faulty in the wiring
and though it’s nice to look at
I have no business
inviting lovers in.”
― Clementine von Radics

Happy Birthdays

Posted by Psyche’s Call With Donna May

William Butler Yeats was born on June 13, 1865, and died on January 28, 1939. Another of our favorites has a June birthday: Egon Schiele, born June 12, 1890, and died October 31, 1918. Egon died from the flu pandemic just two days after his wife and baby. Willy died in a small attic room with both his wife and mistress at his side. Could there be more of a contrast in life and times?

And then of course one an artist (Schiele) and the other a poet and writer. Yet who knows what heights Schiele might have reached had he lived. He too wrote a bit of poetry and letters. Both consider what it is that makes an artist, and what it is that is in the special makings of things that make some reach for the Heavens (whatever that means) and others content to be earthbound.

egonschiele_self-portrait1912

Egon Schiele: Self Portrait with Physalis, 1912

Both saw Beauty and Terror in everything in the world. The gift to us is that they tried so valiantly to share it with us, sometimes succeeding, if we but eyes to see. Imagine.

Some Things You Don’t Want To Know

“There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.”


~ Hunter S. Thompson
Poetic Outlaws · 7 hrs · This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper. ~TS Eliot

T.S. Eliot

Poetic Outlaws:

“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.” ~TS Eliot

From “The Hollow Men”

And Some Poetry, because no matter how much you don’t want to know, you want to know, and you want to hear it well told.

The Hollow Men

aMistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy
I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

 

Others Sayin’…Thoughts For Today

So, I make art based on the idea that death is a part of nature and can be beautiful too. Nothing I like more than seeing nature take over a dead/abandoned thing. Not your usual post but, I thought this group might appreciate it. Enjoy!
How Does Your Garden Grow- Coz 2017
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“I wish to weep
but sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe
but belief is a
graveyard.”

― Charles Bukowski

Poetic Outlaws · 3 hrs · “I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard.” ― Charles Bukowski
Above Both posted on Facebook
So for myself, on this fine day of sunshine and outside noises, I’m off to the store for the necessaries of shelter-at-home: Wine and Cheese and Chocolate. Well OK, maybe a small bottle of Vodka. Speaking of, I’ve heard that liquor sales in Ohio are at a 203% increase for the year so far. How’s that for saying something?