A Charm
Rudyard Kipling (30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
Take of English earth as much
As either hand may rightly clutch.
In the taking of it breathe
Prayer for all who lie beneath—
Not the great nor well bespoke,
But the mere uncounted folk
Of whose life and death is none
Report or lamentation.
Lay that earth upon thy heart,
And thy sickness shall depart!
It shall sweeten and make whole
Fevered breath and festered soul;
It shall mightily restrain
Over-busy hand and brain;
It shall ease thy mortal strife
’Gainst the immortal woe of life,
Till thyself restored shall prove
By what grace the Heavens do move.
Take of English flowers these—
Spring’s full-facéd primroses,
Summer’s wild wide-hearted rose,
Autumn’s wall-flower of the close,
And, thy darkness to illume,
Winter’s bee-thronged ivy-bloom.
Seek and serve them where they bide
From Candlemas to Christmas-tide.
For these simples used aright
Shall restore a failing sight.
These shall cleanse and purify
Webbed and inward-turning eye;
These shall show thee treasure hid,
Thy familiar fields amid,
At thy threshold, on thy hearth,
Or about thy daily path;
And reveal (which is thy need)
Every man a King indeed!
Angel or Demon
Victor Hugo (26 February 1802 – 22 May 1885)
(“Tu domines notre âge; ange ou démon, qu’importe!”)
Angel or demon! thou,—whether of light
The minister, or darkness—still dost sway
This age of ours; thine eagle’s soaring flight
Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
The eye that from thy presence fain would stray,
Shuns thee in vain; thy mighty shadow thrown
Rests on all pictures of the living day,
And on the threshold of our time alone,
Dazzling, yet sombre, stands thy form, Napoleon!
Thus, when the admiring stranger’s steps explore
The subject-lands that ‘neath Vesuvius be,
Whether he wind along the enchanting shore
To Portici from fair Parthenope,
Or, lingering long in dreamy reverie,
O’er loveliest Ischia’s od’rous isle he stray,
Wooed by whose breath the soft and am’rous sea
Seems like some languishing sultana’s lay,
A voice for very sweets that scarce can win its way.
Him, whether Paestum’s solemn fane detain,
Shrouding his soul with meditation’s power;
Or at Pozzuoli, to the sprightly strain
Of tarantella danced ‘neath Tuscan tower,
Listening, he while away the evening hour;
Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone and deep,
Of that sad city, in its dreaming bower
By the volcano seized, where mansions keep
The likeness which they wore at that last fatal sleep;
Or be his bark at Posillippo laid,
While as the swarthy boatman at his side
Chants Tasso’s lays to Virgil’s pleased shade,
Ever he sees, throughout that circuit wide,
From shaded nook or sunny lawn espied,
From rocky headland viewed, or flow’ry shore,
From sea, and spreading mead alike descried,
The Giant Mount, tow’ring all objects o’er,
And black’ning with its breath th’ horizon evermore!
Grace
Take the daily path, life and death and living.
Explore the mansions of earth.
Seek that sad city beneath the volcano,
dreaming echoes, shadows.
And soaring, breathless, over the dazzling sea—the wild-hearted rose!
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Beautiful
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Thank you!
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Lovely! I want to go there
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Gorgeous choice of words.
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How beautiful Voima. I keep saying this of your writing and it really does not seem enough to describe the perfect words and images you choose. x
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Giant
Clutch the hand of Virgil
Take thy ease in his presence
Treasure the soaring of his voice
Lingering long
The echoes dazzling, breathless
Spreading the loveliest reverie
To sweeten and make whole
The woe of all uncounted folk
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This is marvelous–Such a rich and powerful piece!
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Thank you. I wanted to be ‘uplifting’ rather than my usual dark this time (my challenge to myself!).
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It’s uplifting and more than that…it’s beautifully soothing too. Reminds me of some of the Romantic poets I’ve read.
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Super; I love how we all come up with such different pieces.
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‘the woe of all uncounted folk’ – I like this very much – this peace for the uncounted.
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The Taking of Breath Amid Familiar Fields
Breathe.……………..take a breath amid familiar fields
uncounted breath bespoke of heart
………………………………………….and fevered death
breathless breath
…………………………….amid close-faced flowers
languishing in soft failing light and sombre bower
breathe…………thy black’ning breath
cleanse and purify…………illume and ease…….breathe
thy soaring breathless breath
away………………..take flight……………….away
from mortal strife on earth
…………………………from this age of ours
this dreaming time espied from sleep
the taking of breath amid familiar fields and wild flowers.
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Stunning! I think I started breathing in time with it.
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Thank you. My aim was for the words to look as if they are floating away.
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Oh – I do love the way you have put the words in this format Carol 🙂 just lovely and in time with the breath – love it 🙂
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Thank you, Frances.
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A Charm Shall Sweeten and Make Whole
This age of ours rests on all pictures of the living day
In the taking of it breathe, over-busy hand and brain,
Lingering long in dreamy reverie as either hand may
Rightly clutch report or lamentation
And on the threshold of our time alone
Whose life and death a mighty shadow thrown
At thy threshold, on thy hearth where mansions keep
All who lie beneath, while away the evening hour
Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone and deep
It shall ease thy mortal strife in its dreaming bower
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Lovely. Great choice of words.
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Thank you.
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This is beautiful Sian – I love that you have ‘all pictures of the living day’ – a reminder that we must live rather than just document.
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Thank you. I admit, I still haven’t got a clear idea of what I’m trying to say, but the first line I built just made me think of photographs…looking through albums, each one being some sort of record for good or bad…sort of like holding things to account, keeping track of joys and woes, and at the end we can look through them as we want. I think that’s the idea.
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Nature’s Evening-tide
Thy Darkness shall illume dazzling with long lingering light
the mournful woe of Life;
Thy immortal Grace shall show dazzling with long lingering light
the time of mortal Strife;
and, at thy threshold, they shall o’er familiar fields be soaring
long in flight beneath thy Shade.
Of all who lie alone beneath as languishing echoes breath
upon the subject-lands of Heavens and Death
o’er thy threshold they shall depart and stray solemn along the shore
beneath thy Presence as thou dost enchanting be for evermore;
Spring Winter Summer Autumn dreaming o’er Earth and Sea
tow’ring all objects black’ning with thy shadow of dreamy reverie
and in thy Darkness wake
shrouding this age of fevered festered hours
to cleanse and purify
this Age of Lamentation ours
till thee thyself restored shall be
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I love the beautiful circles of he seasons and the light hear Sean.
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Good grief – what I meant to say was: I love the beautiful circles of the seasons and the light here Sean.
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I like “The Light Hear” where ‘Light’ is used as the plural and ‘hear’ is what those long lingering light(s) would do [if those lingering lights are stars and nebulae; and, moons reflecting].
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I love the title, and languishing echoes breath. I’m so pleased you started this site up again, it’s been greatly missed.
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I’m happy then. Everyone’s pieces are so marvelous even more so than during the site’s first iteration.
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I like this. Lovely description. Seem to see different things in it with every read.
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I’m glad. I write vaguely.
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Soaring Echoes
charm your angel or demon with enchanting lamentation
in the bee-thronged darkness breathe prayer and grace
for this earth fevered volcano, this sombre horizon, this mournful form
be wild wide-hearted, sweets dost sway – illume – cleanse
the pleased sleep of loveliest lingering – a flight to purify
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Beautiful. I love the pleased sleep of loveliest lingering.
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I like the sense of restoration this offers. Beautiful poem.
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shadowchants of the Charm King
in the taking of breath, breathe
breath spreading breath
wildbreath restored by in-turning windbreath, by seabreath, by earthbreath
Charm of the Daily Hearth
Charm of the Shrouded Face
Charm of the Rocky Shore
breath spreading the likeness of breath
*
in the dreaming of sleep, wake
hour spreading hour
wakesleep restored by in-turning eyesleep, by widesleep, by sidesleep
Charm of the Fever Clutch
Charm of the Candlemas Rose
Charm of the Treasure Bee
wake spreading the likeness of sleep
*
on the threshold of voice, echoes
time spreading time
echoes restored by in-turning shadow, by shaded, by hid
Charm of the Stranger’s Breath
Charm of the Deep City
Charm of the Lone Boatman
echoes spreading the likeness of voice
*
in the failing of sight, illume
light spreading light
softlight restored by in-turning circuit, by scarcelight, by straylight
Charm of the Autumn Bloom
Charm of the Fatal Hour
Charm of the Stray Angel
light spreading the likeness of sight
*
in the uncounted steps, depart
flight spreading flight
flightpath restored by in-turning gracesteps, by headland, by soaring
Charm of the Dark Web
Charm of the Eagle Eye
Charm of the Power Heart
flight spreading the likeness of life
*
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Beautiful. Learnt a lot about this art form from this poem. I loved the repetition, the chanting, and the flow and word use.
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thank you sian – in turn, I really like yours because it doesn’t read like a cut-up at all, which is quite awesome – invisible seams!
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Mary, you’re so good at this! Wonderful title – shadowchants of the Charm King.
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thanks carol! I found this one difficult, so really enjoyed it – and I love the way we would probably be able to tell who wrote what now, without the names attached 🙂
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We probably could; but everyone’s word-use and/or formatting and/or sentence structure has changed tremendously since last year. I would not have thought Carol’s piece with her spaces had been written by her. This and last month’s poems are pleasantly remarkable progresses.
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yes, I agree about changes and developments – but I think I would have guessed carol’s – she has a gift for movement and rhythm – it looks lovely on the page, like a dandelion or thistle blown
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‘every man’
dreaming
he lays
strangers’ steps’ echoes
through the sad city
where mansions
keep vigil
from the sea
to the rocky mount
life and death
is none to him
not breathless, nor feverish
a mover of shadows
his angel
an English rose
wooed
by the threshold of time
this age of ours
danced away
his dazzling life
his soul sleep’d away
the evening hours
to seek and to serve
summer’s bee
lingering in reverie
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