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REPRISE / ENCORE - THE MORAL TO THE STORY
PS This lunar story is an interesting yarn. Let's assume it's true
29 th Feb , 1504 . mmm
well at least they didn't pick 29th Feb 1505
REPRISE / ENCORE - THE MORAL TO THE STORYCOLUMBUS AND THE APOCALYPTIC ECLIPSE OF THE AZTECS
PS This lunar story is an interesting yarn. Let's assume it's trueI would warn Montezuma - and Jamaicans as well
that his contacts weren't lunar, they're the fires from Hell
tell them ask "King Columbus - if you're so bloody pure
let's repeat it again - ta be shurre, to ba shurre"
("and I'll Mont up my Zoom lens, while Yemaica moons fewer"
Praps the moral of the story - common savages, my friends
when a man pretends miracles, and common sense bends
feign you're awestuck !! - well, initially - then all cry "MORE!"
and let's see if he can back up with another encore
And I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughtComing of Life sanctioned by the universe
Abiding escalated thoughts
It's a long one, - only if you've got absolutely nothing to do ...Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye During a Tour. July 13, 1798., often abbreviated to Tintern Abbey or Lines, is a poem written by William Wordsworth. The poem's seeming emphasis on nature makes it a characteristic work of the Romantic movement but belies its true message of revolution and dark deeds from the mentioned anniversary date. Tintern Abbey is an abbey abandoned in 1536 and located in Monmouthshire, Wales.
The poem is written in blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter). This poem is more philosophical than previous Wordsworthian poems, which explains Wordsworth's philosophical way of writing it. Though Wordsworth wrote this poem in 1798, the subject is of what he remembers from 1793. This poem takes place in the poet's mind. Wordsworth's emphasis in the beginning of "5 years have passed…" and constantly using the word "again" shows how important time is to this poem. Furthermore, one will notice that the stanzas/lines in the poem are not all the same. This demonstrates a lack of conformity and a 'rebellion' of sorts that was characteristically seen with romantic poets. "Tintern Abbey" represents a decline in religion during the romantic era. People began to see and feel a divine presence within nature and from this arose the romantic poet. Following this 'ideal', Wordsworth's poem describes how the Abbey is a healer, it makes him feel better, peaceful and it teaches him about life. Additionally, he wants to teach others about "his place", which is why he is so happy to show 'his abbey' to his sister Dorothy Wordsworth. He is ecstatic that he is able to share his experiences with Dorothy.
[edit] Synopsis
Lines 25-35: In these lines, Wordsworth discusses how he has not forgotten the abbey and how in "lonely rooms, and 'mid the din/ of towns and cities" thoughts of the abbey have healed him and made him feel better. The thoughts of the abbey provided him with "tranquil restoration". This is a romanticist ideal; the abbey (nature) has restored his spirit. Furthermore, Wordsworth states that his feelings about the abbey are extremely important and that they have inspired him to be kind and compassionate.
Line 37: By sublime, Wordsworth means a type of divine creativity/inspiration
Lines 35-49: Here Wordsworth goes on to say that the gifts given to him by the abbey (the tranquil restoration, etc.) have in themselves given him another gift, one that is even more sublime. The abbey and nature itself has relieved Wordsworth of a giant burden. This burden is the questioning of God/religion/purpose of life.
Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tintern_Abbey_%28poem%29"
William Wordsworth » Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey
on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798
........... Once again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
25 :
These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye;
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration: -feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
35:
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened: -that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on -
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul;
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft -
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart -
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
.......
. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. -I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. -That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense.
For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.
And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear -both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
....
for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee; and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; .....
beauty natashia
this one so much prep school by comparison
I wrote it to a girl I met once (100 years ago lol)
YOUR SMILE
first the eyes give a flash then the cheeks start to grin
and the forests and sky and the air all join in
and those features that know only sunshine and spring
the dimples that laugh and the lips how they sing
you can tell that a frown simply wouldnt be right
on those features of yours - such a beautiful sight!
:1 cent (compared to yours) - thanks
THOSE CHAMPIONS THE CARERS (Something Wonderful)
(Praps relevant and valid more, for invalid than king)
there’s a cross that some folk bearest
with their spine replaced by rod
there’s a badge that those folk wearest ,
it’s a badge to which I’ll nod
how will God of love compare us
when we’re six feet under sod
(I suspect more time for carers
than he has for sheep of God)
- (and more time for Lambs of carers
- than he has for sheep of God)
do you keep the lookout hopeful manned
for things that he might do
some simple thing yet mighty, grand
in the scheme of the two of you
a flicker of smile like a chandelier
- a skylight to a sky of blue
our lives may be different to what we planned
but our love’s the more real and more true.
no choice but be resigned to
subtle wisdoms of God’s ploy
no choice but to be blind to
any faults that might annoy
no choice but face the daily grind
and to build and not to destroy
no choice but brace your nerve and spine
and to carry both cross and boy
to those who sing his tune with him
to those who call him “son”
whose eyes light at the moon with him
and give the boy some fun
who spend their night and noon with him
and walk while others run
who simply chat and spoon with him
and add a ray of sun.
(to that day when its all undone)
I’ve often heard these words before
and felt their meaning ring
and relevant and valid more
for invalid than king
a spastic boy can turn a smile
into a wondrous thing
and catch us out so free from guile
like wind beneath a wing.
noi, can we assume there is "another side"? - and they have commputer terminals - loland now I've breathed my very last.
Fell out of a tree, by noirua
THE UNFORGIVEABLE PRESSURE FOR PROGRESS
A tortoise wise there was, who once thanked God he was so slow,
I may be going the wrong way Lord, and how am I to know ?
and If I have to retrace steps so painfully executed
'twould make me wish that I was slower still than I'm reputed.
The "60 seconds progress" that our poet friends can run
(without tripping over Kipling), so "you'll be a man my son"
you may run past all the beauty, short of breath - but I suggest
that "to run" is not a duty - and forget about the rest
..........
that you sample life's enjoyments - YOU discover what is best! :bowser:
"If" By Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936).
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
noi, can we assume there is "another side"? - and they have commputer terminals - lol
must be just a matter of time before someone claims to have received a message on their computer screen from a dearly departed.
And I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thought- Wordworth's Tintern Abbey
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tintern_Abbey_(poem)
It's a long one, - only if you've got absolutely nothing to do ...
But early in life I decided that this bloke made more sense than the Church (and I still think so )
http://www.online-literature.com/wordsworth/518/
excerpts only follow, sheesh
purpose in life?
to have a memory like that?
"a mansion for all lovely forms" lol
then again , as Lewis Carroll said,
" it's a pretty poor sort of memory that only works backwards"
Maybe life is about somehow having those attitudes in the present as well - if you get my ghist.
gesticulate :- verb - to wave one's hands and arms about when speaking
ARE HUMANS BEASTS ? - (any offence to the other beasts, although probable , is unintended)
I take it that we all agree, all animals have traits
but just to various degrees – which ? - varsity or fate?
and bully bear – or bully person – more depends on weight
than which is “beast” or “worst”, or praps, which one is Satan’s mate.
when porpoises ride waves beside, a human on his board
what purpose could a human find, to separate them Lord?
both out there living, playing, in the gold god-given sun
while the pedants at home are praying (or are hunting whales with gun)
ask people who have lived with apes, and chimps, and "kings of beasts"
which laws of jungle matter most, and which ones matter least
man, self-styled "Lord of all things"– surely gets the dunce's cap
and God must rue he made man king – and give the rest a rap.
you search the traits of this small world, the “traitors” carved in granite
you’ll see how much God screwed up / erred - when he chose the world to "man-it"
you watch "the Planet of the Apes", which God has “boy-and-girled”
...
which other creature first pack rapes - and then PACK RAPES THE WORLD. ?
eliminate the Jeckle for a second in our hide
be "Doctor Hyde, respectful", and go forth - our better side
we’ve now reached pest proportions, and ignore it at your peril
Sam play-it! – in slow motion –...
"MAN SHOOTS PIG!"
..........
now? – which was feral ?
Hi 2020, Whether there is another side or not, there's nothing we can do about our present existance or any next existance, that's set already. I prefer not to think or give advice on such matters as the last person who did, to me that is, slipped on wet grass when out running, hit his head and as they say in East London, where I stayed 20 years ago, he wound up "Brown Bread".
Of course they've got computers on the other side and all you have to do to make contact is...
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