FEBRUARY 16, 2007 @ 04:25 PM


O great Pelican of Eternity
that piercest thy breast for our food
we are thy fledglings who cannot know thy woe.
Bless this shadowy food of substance
whose last eater shall be worm
and feed us rather
on the visionary food
of dreams and grace.


hmm and I think there is a wise wood pigeon lord too, he stands on the Silver Birch outside my window.

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nikonphoto80

nikonphoto80

Lexington, KY
December 2004

FEB 17, 2007 12:31 AM

what is that from?

Kenickie

Kenickie

United Kingdom
August 2004

FEB 17, 2007 02:13 AM

Hey, thanks for the friend request. We used to have a family of pigeons that came to our house every year (well, we liked to think it was a family and that they were the same ones returning) that we liked to feed and watch in the garden. The cats loved watching them too - obviously from the safety of indoors. But we would sometimes catch our old neighbour trying to shoot them with his air rifle. It made us so angry, I think my mum gave him a severe talking to. Go mum smile

madneil

madneil

United Kingdom
September 2004

FEB 17, 2007 05:47 AM

Haven't seen any birds flying here for a while, I like the birds of prey myself personally

Hickers

Hickers

United Kingdom
August 2006

FEB 17, 2007 06:36 AM


so, is that book as good as it sounds?

saffa

saffa

I'm lost
April 2005

FEB 17, 2007 10:40 AM

sounds like you got a new friend smile

LuckyZombie

LuckyZombie

I'm lost
August 2004

FEB 17, 2007 10:53 AM


(A The polaroid kid aka Mike Brodie polaroid)
xxx

soix

soix

USA
April 2004

FEB 17, 2007 10:53 AM

Ohhh...i have a little video for you later....i hope it turned out. Missed you, AnnaLee kiss

Takeahnase

Takeahnase

United Kingdom
May 2006

FEB 17, 2007 01:43 PM

Very nice, I'm digging it. Who wrote that?

elwood

elwood

I'm lost
December 2004

FEB 17, 2007 07:37 PM

Could you have your wise pigeon lord tell his minions to stop shitting on my car, because I don't consider those
blessings to be quite like the art all around us. Thanks.

How's school?

ChaosBlade

ChaosBlade

Twain Harte, CA
March 2005

FEB 18, 2007 02:04 AM

interesting poem...i like it smile

Layka

Layka

HOPEFUL

I'm lost

FEB 18, 2007 08:22 AM

oh my pretty
i miss u
xoxo

zetetic

zetetic

United Kingdom
November 2006

FEB 18, 2007 09:37 AM

Interesting poem although I don't recognise it - who is it by. Sorry about chucking the Wasteland at you concerning your shopping trip. Reading that is unlikely to make you feel better!!!! Well, here's a poem by one of my favourites, enjoy

Lineage

In the beginning was Scream
Who begat Blood
Who begat Eye
Who begat Fear
Who begat Wing
Who begat Bone
Who begat Granite
Who begat Violet
Who begat Guitar
Who begat Sweat
Who begat Adam
Who begat Mary
Who begat God
Who begat Nothing
Who begat Never
Never Never Never

Who begat Crow

Screaming for Blood
Grubs, crusts

Anything

Trembling featherless elbows in the nest's filth

Ted Hughes

These are great too:


SPOILERS! (Click to view)

Relic
I found this jawbone at the sea's edge:
There, crabs, dogfish, broken by the breakers or tossed
To flap for half an hour and turn to a crust
Continue the beginning. The deeps are cold:
In that darkness camaraderie does not hold.

Nothing touches but, clutching, devours. And the jaws,
Before they are satisfied or their stretched purpose
Slacken, go down jaws; go gnawn bare. Jaws
Eat and are finished and the jawbone comes to the beach:
This is the sea's achievement; with shells,
Verterbrae, claws, carapaces, skulls.

Time in the sea eats its tail, thrives, casts these
Indigestibles, the spars of purposes
That failed far from the surface. None grow rich
In the sea. This curved jawbone did not laugh
But gripped, gripped and is now a cenotaph.

Ted Hughes


The Seven Sorrows
The first sorrow of autumn
Is the slow goodbye
Of the garden who stands so long in the evening-
A brown poppy head,
The stalk of a lily,
And still cannot go.

The second sorrow
Is the empty feet
Of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers.
The woodland of gold
Is folded in feathers
With its head in a bag.

And the third sorrow
Is the slow goodbye
Of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers
The minutes of evening,
The golden and holy
Ground of the picture.

The fourth sorrow
Is the pond gone black
Ruined and sunken the city of water-
The beetle's palace,
The catacombs
Of the dragonfly.

And the fifth sorrow
Is the slow goodbye
Of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp.
One day it's gone.
It has only left litter-
Firewood, tentpoles.

And the sixth sorrow
Is the fox's sorrow
The joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds,
The hooves that pound
Till earth closes her ear
To the fox's prayer.

And the seventh sorrow
Is the slow goodbye
Of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window
As the year packs up
Like a tatty fairground
That came for the children.



Also, I've popped a huge playlist of stuff up on my blog- you may find something of interest there...

Take care. EL SUICIDO LOCO (not sure what this is just wanted to use it)

evapilotone

evapilotone

United Kingdom
March 2006

FEB 18, 2007 09:41 AM

I swear my cat controls me with her mind. miao!!

Gravelord81

Gravelord81

Richmond, KY
October 2003

FEB 18, 2007 09:56 AM

interesting poetry, who wrote it?

Hickers

Hickers

United Kingdom
August 2006

FEB 18, 2007 10:23 AM

cool, i may have to make a purchase then, although i've not actually seen any of the pictures, just read reviews! i'm a book fiend though, so one more can't hurt!!

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