Scenawry

Scene #41

2010-09-04T14:01:00.004-03:00

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2010-08-08T19:29:00.002-03:00

Scene #39

2010-07-26T17:34:00.001-03:00

The blog and the author were off due to lack of resources and lack of impulse; one of those two circumstances still remains, but the blog is back anyway.

Scene #38

2010-02-02T15:15:00.000-03:00

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2010-02-01T14:27:00.000-03:00

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2010-01-31T16:36:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-29T14:02:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-28T18:00:00.004-03:00

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2010-01-27T15:09:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-26T15:09:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-25T14:57:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-23T14:50:00.001-03:00

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2010-01-22T14:45:00.001-03:00

Scene #26

2010-01-21T14:25:00.000-03:00

A pale green sky is gleaming;
The steely stars are few;
The moorland pond is steaming
A mist of gray and blue.

Along the pathway lonely
My horse is walking slow;
Three living creatures only,
He, I, and a home-bound crow!

The moon is hardly shaping
Her circle in the fog;
A dumb stream is escaping
Its prison in the bog.

But in my heart are ringing
Tones of a lofty song;
A voice that I know, is singing,
And my heart all night must long.

George MacDonald, from "Picture songs".

Scene #25

2010-01-20T17:22:00.000-03:00

Green is the night, green kindled and appareled.
It is she that walks among astronomers.

She strides above the rabbit and the cat,
Like a noble figure, out of the sky,

Moving among the sleepers, the men,
Those that lie chanting *green is the night*.

Green is the night and out of madness woven,
The self-same madness of the astronomers

And of him that sees, beyond the astronomers,
The topaz rabbit and the emerald cat,

That sees above them, that sees rise up above them,
The noble figure, the essential shadow,

Moving and being, the image at its source,
The abstract, the archaic queen. Green is the night.

Wallace Stevens, "The candle a saint".

Scene #24

2010-01-20T14:15:00.002-03:00

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,—
Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.

Emily Dickinson, XXXI.

Scene #23

2010-01-19T21:04:00.000-03:00

Bitter–tasting ice —
Just enough to wet the throat
Of a sewer rat.

Matsuo Bashō.

Scene #22

2010-01-18T14:19:00.000-03:00

As boiling stream of lava you are,
scorched, you scorch,
or petrify. As stone by stone
stands everything at fate's gate.
As stiffened statue is all, what more of altar-service, of dance
or trade, –
only body's images, grey as cement or ashes. –
What you were, is the tones, your eye caught
and ear bore
as sounds in the face.

Gunnar Björling.

Scene #21

2010-01-05T16:47:00.000-03:00

I would build a cloudy House
For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose
And too low for Heaven!
Hush! I talk my dream aloud—-
I build it bright to see,—-
I build it on the moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee.

[...]

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "The house of clouds".

Scene #20

2009-11-01T13:50:00.000-03:00

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer, "Trees".

Scene #19

2009-10-04T00:08:00.000-03:00

I heard the old, old men say,
"Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away."
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
I heard the old, old men say,
"All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters."

William Butler Yeats, ""The old men admiring themselves in the water"

Scene #18

2009-09-21T12:38:00.000-03:00

Out there by the rocks, at the end of the bank,
In the mouth of the river, the Wanderer sank.
She is resting where meet the blue water and green,
And only her masts and her funnel are seen;
And you see, when is fading the sunset’s last fleck,
On her foremast a lantern—a light on a wreck.
’Tis a light on a wreck, warning ships to beware
Of the drowned iron hull of the Wanderer there;
And the ships that come in and go out in the night
Keep a careful lookout for the Wanderer’s light.
There are rules for the harbour and rules for the wave;
But all captains steer clear of the Wanderer’s grave.

And the stories of strong lives that ended in wrecks
Might be likened to lights over derelict decks;
Like the light where, in sight of the streets of the town,
In the mouth of the channel the Wanderer went down.
Keep a watch from the desk, as they watch from the deck;
Keep a watch from your home for the light on the wreck.

But the lights on the wrecks since creation began
Have been shining in vain for the vagabond clan.
They will never take warning, they will not beware,
For they hold for their mottoes ‘What matter?’ ‘What care?’
And they sail without compass, they sail without check,
Till they steer to their grave ’neath a light on a wreck.

Henry Lawson, "The light on the wreck".

Scene #17

2009-06-15T01:19:00.000-03:00

Even on the smallest islands,
they are tilling the fields,
skylarks singing.

Kobayashi Issa.