Guest guest Posted September 13, 2008 Report Share Posted September 13, 2008 My name is Bodil. To toombaru and Anna I say hello once again. To those whom I have not yet met, I also send greetings and have hope that wonderful rediscovery can be our unfolding and voyaging together in joy and as one. In deference to the insightful wordings that through the once aerobic principle known as Dylan Thomas coursed, I here express my initial offering at this moorage place of we haunted vessels seeking anchorage ground both in passage and in troubled waters of mind and myth(not unlike the serous fluid in which the embryo is suspended inside the amnion). Sure that it is that this poem is familiar to most if not all of the readers here, I offer it as a reminder..a reminder..a re- " minder " . I have turned to it many times throughout many score years, as it speaks what I have known but command not the beauty in word of conveying. It is indeed true testimony. It is my hope that if it annoys with too much familiarity, that it at least on rereading will also rekindle that fiery obscurity that is the source and abidance of us all and every " thing " . For in truth without question, before a woman gives birth her waters must break. " The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks. The hand that whirls the water in the pool Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind Hauls my shroud sail. And I am dumb to tell the hanging man How of my clay is made the hangman's lime. " The lips of time leech to the fountain head; Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood Shall calm her sores. And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind How time has ticked a heaven round the stars. " Thank you for your forbearance with my incompetence. Bod. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 21, 2008 Report Share Posted September 21, 2008 Nisargadatta , " coldspa " <coldspa wrote: > > My name is Bodil. To toombaru and Anna I say hello once again. To > those whom I have not yet met, I also send greetings and have hope > that wonderful rediscovery can be our unfolding and voyaging together > in joy and as one. In deference to the insightful wordings that > through the once aerobic principle known as Dylan Thomas coursed, I > here express my initial offering at this moorage place of we haunted > vessels seeking anchorage ground both in passage and in troubled > waters of mind and myth(not unlike the serous fluid in which the > embryo is suspended inside the amnion). Sure that it is that this poem > is familiar to most if not all of the readers here, I offer it as a > reminder..a reminder..a re- " minder " . I have turned to it many times > throughout many score years, as it speaks what I have known but > command not the beauty in word of conveying. It is indeed true > testimony. It is my hope that if it annoys with too much familiarity, > that it at least on rereading will also rekindle that fiery obscurity > that is the source and abidance of us all and every " thing " . For in > truth without question, before a woman gives birth her waters must break. > > > > > > " The force that through the green fuse drives the flower > Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees > Is my destroyer. > And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose > My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. > > The force that drives the water through the rocks > Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams > Turns mine to wax. > And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins > How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks. > > The hand that whirls the water in the pool > Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind > Hauls my shroud sail. > And I am dumb to tell the hanging man > How of my clay is made the hangman's lime. " > > The lips of time leech to the fountain head; > Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood > Shall calm her sores. > And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind > How time has ticked a heaven round the stars. " > > Thank you for your forbearance with my incompetence. > > Bod. > :-) toombaru Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 22, 2008 Report Share Posted September 22, 2008 Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " <lastrain wrote: > > Nisargadatta , " coldspa " <coldspa@> wrote: > > > > My name is Bodil. To toombaru and Anna I say hello once again. To > > those whom I have not yet met, I also send greetings and have hope > > that wonderful rediscovery can be our unfolding and voyaging together > > in joy and as one. In deference to the insightful wordings that > > through the once aerobic principle known as Dylan Thomas coursed, I > > here express my initial offering at this moorage place of we haunted > > vessels seeking anchorage ground both in passage and in troubled > > waters of mind and myth(not unlike the serous fluid in which the > > embryo is suspended inside the amnion). Sure that it is that this poem > > is familiar to most if not all of the readers here, I offer it as a > > reminder..a reminder..a re- " minder " . I have turned to it many times > > throughout many score years, as it speaks what I have known but > > command not the beauty in word of conveying. It is indeed true > > testimony. It is my hope that if it annoys with too much familiarity, > > that it at least on rereading will also rekindle that fiery obscurity > > that is the source and abidance of us all and every " thing " . For in > > truth without question, before a woman gives birth her waters must > break. > > > > > > > > > > > > " The force that through the green fuse drives the flower > > Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees > > Is my destroyer. > > And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose > > My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. > > > > The force that drives the water through the rocks > > Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams > > Turns mine to wax. > > And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins > > How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks. > > > > The hand that whirls the water in the pool > > Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind > > Hauls my shroud sail. > > And I am dumb to tell the hanging man > > How of my clay is made the hangman's lime. " > > > > The lips of time leech to the fountain head; > > Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood > > Shall calm her sores. > > And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind > > How time has ticked a heaven round the stars. " > > > > Thank you for your forbearance with my incompetence. > > > > Bod. > > :-) > > > > > toombaru > Hi again Bod. Nice to feel your presence. ~A Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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