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Discussion of other topics not necessarily Keats or poetry-related, i.e. other authors, literature, film, music, the arts etc.

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Postby Malia » Fri Jan 12, 2007 10:17 pm

Here is a fantastic philosophical quote by our man Keats:

Keats once wrote the following about the work of a spider: "The points of leaves and twigs on which the Spider begins her work are few and she fills the Air with a beautiful circulating: man should be content with a few points to tip with the fine Webb of his Soul and weave a tapestry empyrean." (Letter 19th of February 1818)
Stay Awake!
--Anthony deMello
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Postby Saturn » Fri Jan 12, 2007 11:14 pm

Thanks for that Malia. I'm astonished more and more each time I reread Keats' letters just how he uses the English language.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Sat Jan 13, 2007 2:24 am

:shock: Yes, thanks for that Miss Malia...is that not a consummate metaphor? He's quite perfect, so he is...
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Sun Jan 14, 2007 1:01 am

This is very powerful stuff - I know exactly what Plath is saying here; I've been there: "I know the bottom".



Elm

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root;
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it.
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

All night I shall gallop thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.

Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
This is rain now, the big hush.
And this is the fruit of it: tin white, like arsenic.

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand,a hand of wires.

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.

I let her go. I let her go
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery.
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches?--

Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.
~Sylvia Plath
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Malia » Sun Jan 14, 2007 7:07 am

"A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort."
--Herm Albright
Stay Awake!
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Postby Saturn » Mon Jan 15, 2007 1:12 pm

I Know It's Over - The Smiths

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well. Enough said.
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go

Oh ... Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)
And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over, la ...

I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know ... 'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."

It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over

Love is Natural and Real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is Natural and Real
But not for such as you and I, my love

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Saturn » Mon Jan 22, 2007 1:15 pm

The flower that smiles today.

The flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies,
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies;
What is this world’s delight?
Lightning, that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.—

Virtue, how frail it is!—
Friendship, how rare!—
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But these, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.—

Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep
Dream thou—and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Malia » Sun Feb 11, 2007 8:41 pm

Here's some food for thought:

Choose Joy
Some people have the wonderful ability not to let difficult people or tough situations get them down.
Customers at one coffee shop noticed that their waiter was unflappable no matter how busy things got or how rude certain folks could be. When asked how he could stay so positive, no matter what, the waiter said, “I don’t let anyone steal my joy. The world didn’t give it to me, and the world can’t take it away.”
Our joy, our happiness is our own. While it’s true that people and events affect us, we still get to choose our own perspective on life as well as our beliefs and our feelings.
Television broadcaster Hugh Downs put it this way: “A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes.”
Stay Awake!
--Anthony deMello
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Postby Saturn » Sat Feb 17, 2007 1:24 am

New Love, New Life

Heart, my heart, what are you doing?
What’s oppressing you so sore?
Strange, this new life you’re pursuing –
I don’t know you any more.
Gone is all you loved, all gladness,
Gone now all that troubling sadness,
Diligence, and rest, all gone –
Oh, what was it brought this on?

Are you gripped by youth all flowering?
By this lovely form’s amaze,
By the endless overpowering
Of this kind and faithful gaze?
If I say that I’ll not see her,
Steel myself and try to flee her,
Instantly I’m on a track –
Oh – that simply leads me back.

On this thread that nothing severs,
Magic spun with magic skill,
This girl, winsome-wilful tethers
Me so much against my will:
In her magic circle’s passions
My life now she rules and fashions.
Oh the change, how great a blow!
Love, oh love, oh let me go!
~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Saturn » Sat Feb 17, 2007 1:25 am

"His hunger wishes to burn down all social rules, all courtesy.
Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute and secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.

He has been disassembled by her.
And if she has brought him to this, what has he brought her to?”
~Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Brave Archer » Sat Feb 17, 2007 5:33 pm

Love, I transgress and I see my transgression, but I act like a man
who burns with a fire in his breast; for the pain still grows, and
my reason fails and is almost overcome by my sufferings.

I used to rein in my hot desire so as not to darken her clear face; I
can no longer do it: you have taken the reins from my hand, and
my despairing soul has acquired boldness.

Therefore, if my soul hazards herself beyond her usual style,
you are doin it-- who so inflame and spur her that she attempts
every difficult way toward her salvation--

and even more those heavenly, rare gifts which my lady has.
Now at least make her perceive it, and make her pardon herself
for my transgressions.


PETRARCH
Why don't you really tell me how you feel!
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Postby Saturn » Sat Feb 17, 2007 10:15 pm

Ah another Petrarch fan :D
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Thu Feb 22, 2007 6:34 pm

Robert and Elizabeth Browning loved Keats. Robert was convinced he might see Keats's (and Shelley's) ghost at his home in Camberwall. Ah, I'm not the only one, then :wink:
This poem is about--who else? Keats!

Popularity

I.

Stand still, true poet that you are!
I know you; let me try and draw you.
Some night you'll fail us: when afar
You rise, remember one man saw you,
Knew you, and named a star!

II.

My star, God's glow-worm! Why extend
That loving hand of his which leads you
Yet locks you safe from end to end
Of this dark world, unless he needs you,
just saves your light to spend?

III.

His clenched hand shall unclose at last,
I know, and let out all the beauty:
My poet holds the future fast,
Accepts the coming ages' duty,
Their present for this past.

IV.

That day, the earth's feast-master's brow
Shall clear, to God the chalice raising;
``Others give best at first, but thou
``Forever set'st our table praising,
``Keep'st the good wine till now!''

V.

Meantime, I'll draw you as you stand,
With few or none to watch and wonder:
I'll say---a fisher, on the sand
By Tyre the old, with ocean-plunder,
A netful, brought to land.

VI.

Who has not heard how Tyrian shells
Enclosed the blue, that dye of dyes
Whereof one drop worked miracles,
And coloured like Astarte's eyes
Raw silk the merchant sells?

VII.

And each bystander of them all
Could criticize, and quote tradition
How depths of blue sublimed some pall
---To get which, pricked a king's ambition
Worth sceptre, crown and ball.

VIII.

Yet there's the dye, in that rough mesh,
The sea has only just o'erwhispered!
Live whelks, each lip's beard dripping fresh,
As if they still the water's lisp heard
Through foam the rock-weeds thresh.

IX.

Enough to furnish Solomon
Such hangings for his cedar-house,
That, when gold-robed he took the throne
In that abyss of blue, the Spouse
Might swear his presence shone

X.

Most like the centre-spike of gold
Which burns deep in the blue-bell's womb,
What time, with ardours manifold,
The bee goes singing to her groom,
Drunken and overbold.

XI.

Mere conchs! not fit for warp or woof!
Till cunning come to pound and squeeze
And clarify,---refine to proof
The liquor filtered by degrees,
While the world stands aloof.

XII.

And there's the extract, flasked and fine,
And priced and saleable at last!
And Hobbs, Nobbs, Stokes and Nokes combine
To paint the future from the past,
Put blue into their line.

XIII.

Hobbs hints blue,---Straight he turtle eats:
Nobbs prints blue,---claret crowns his cup:
Nokes outdares Stokes in azure feats,---
Both gorge. Who fished the murex up?
What porridge had John Keats?

Robert Browning
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Mon Feb 26, 2007 12:33 pm

Another Shakespeare sonnet:

CXLVII.

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Saturn » Thu Mar 01, 2007 11:18 pm

"Opinions are like assholes. Everyone's got one and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks".
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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