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Showing posts from March, 2007
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One of my favourite Plath poems: The Moon And The Yew Tree This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place. Separated from my house by a row of headstones. I simply cannot see where there is to get to. The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky -- Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection At the end, they soberly bong out their names. The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape. The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderne

To Clouds (on March 19,2007)

You've seen me here before Behind the black window grill On the third storey You've seen me here before Drowning in the choked air and ceaseless noise That walks in,uninvited You've seen me here before But today,silent and stolid faced You treat me like a stranger. --------- ps-i wrote this poem on a day the skies were really cloudy and seemed like it was going to rain but it did not-all day...but after i wrote this poem ,the very next day,it POURED!

sculpturesque!

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"Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire; Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings. " H.W Longfellow

Dont miss it!

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'Crazy' by Gnarls Barkeley-introduced by Taz