Oil sketch | CB 2013
Variation on a Theme by Rilke
(The Book of Hours, Book 1, Poem 1, Stanza 1)
A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me - a sky, air, light:
a being. And before it started to descend
from the height of noon, it leaned over
and struck my shoulder as if with
the flat of a sword, granting me
honor and a task. The day's blow
rang out, metallic or it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew; I can.
Denise Levertov
I love the music and measure of this fine woman's fine writing. She's a pleasure to listen to, too. . .
This week's editor on the Tuesday Poem hub is the inimitable and fiercely eloquent Zireaux (his the title of this blog is Immortal Muse) with Pigs by Australian poet Les Murray.
Please click on the quill.
Love the poem and the painting Claire!
ReplyDeleteExactly what I was going to say, the volcanic-seeming glow in the painting, the emphatic affirmation in the poem. Nothing is sitting still, is it? Here we are, with ourselves. What shall we make of us? xo
ReplyDeleteDrat. Google is being a dunce. I was going to say the same thing as Kathleen. Exactly. Then I said something about a volcanic glow in your painting, the emphatic affirmation in the poem, then something about we are here with ourselves a resource, what will we make of us? Or close to that. xo
ReplyDeletecertain days do become a presence don't they? especially when we are as "a bell awakened"....beautiful.
ReplyDelete