…Something irreplaceable just died within the chasms of my very soul. 😉
NO. Just NO.
I wanted to save this one for the gloomy season, but I decided I liked the story to much to hold it back. Courtesy of http://www.librivox.org.
– Also, I am testing the Publishing Schedule feature. If tomorrow I get up, and find this on my blog, good times. 🙂
I have hinted a few times that my adult interest in Coleridge comes from my loe for seafaring tales – and Moby Dick is, at least one of my favorite MOVIES of all time. 😉 Now, I am delighted to find that Ron Howard, who is probably one of my favorite media people out there, is directing a movie version of the real events that inspired Melville, as presented in the very, very fine book In the Heart of the Sea. I am not that much of an avid movie goer, but I implicitly trust Howard to make this great; the cast, helmed by Chris Hemsworth, Cillian Murphy, and apparently, Michelle Fairley, is certainly reasonably high-profile. I’ll be a happy camper if this turns out to be great!
The voice of Wales references the Rime, in a rather surprising, and un-cheesy way. What will I tell you? I don’t usually read much Thomas, and I was pleasantly surprised about my find. I am presently trying to get through Under Milk Wood, and this gives me a lot of additional motvation to read a text that I otherwise find very hard.
Grief thief of time crawls off,
The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,
The knave of pain steals off
The sea-halved faith that blew time to his knees,
The old forget the cries,
Lean time on tide and times the wind stood rough,
Call back the castaways
Riding the sea light on a sunken path,
The old forget the grief,
Hack of the cough, the hanging albatross,
Cast back the bone of youth
And salt-eyed stumble bedward where she lies
Who tossed the high tide in a time of stories
And timelessly lies loving with the thief.
Now Jack my fathers let the time-faced crook,
Death flashing from his sleeve,
With swag of bubbles in a seedy sack
Sneak down the stallion grave,
Bull’s-eye the outlaw through a eunuch crack
And free the twin-boxed grief,
No silver whistles chase him down the weeks’
Dayed peaks to day to death,
These stolen bubbles have the bites of snakes
And the undead eye-teeth,
No third eye probe into a rainbow’s sex
That bridged the human halves,
All shall remain and on the graveward gulf
Shape with my fathers’ thieves.
In case you’re interested in learning more about Dylan Thomas, check out this book, by Annis Pratt: Dylan Thomas’ Early Prose – A Study in Creative Mythology. Read it outside away from any obligation, and enjoyed it – though I am otherwise not really into Thomas’ poetry. So, dear readers, you tell me if it’s a good or a bad book, scientifically; as a leisure time read, it was pretty sweet.
A short reblog today, only: The Beauty of Transport is one of the travel blog of the less common kind. For me, personally, it has become an important resource for my travels throughout Europe, because it highlights some places that an unknowing traveller likely walks idly by. This entry, about a bridge in Wales, especially caight my fancy. Enjoy!
Friend of the blog Phillip A. Ellis has made numerous contributions to the blog already. He continues to contribute to my general well-being by writing good poems, such like this one. So, read, enjoy, appreciate, and visit his page over here for more. 🙂
For: Stuart Barnes
the tropical town
the way streetlamps
This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,
This life glowed,
A dire red stain, indelible;
Yet when he was dead,
He saw that he had not lived.
Benedict Cumberbatch is certainly the man of the moment, but besides that, he really is a man of extraordinary talent. I am not thinking so much of his recent work on Sherlock, or even Parade’s End (which should have been more critical of Imperialism), but I liked his performance in To the Ends of the Earth, a series that I will review in a while from now, and warmly recommend to all of you. All the childish hype aside, Cumberbatch is quickly becoming the leading character actor of his day, if Hollywood doesn’t waste him over the usual villain roles.
This has to be the single best reading of Keats’ Nightingale that I ever had the pleasure to listen to. So, without much ado, enjoy! 🙂
As sort of a finale to our series on Der Knabe im Moor, I want to present you this video, the work of a high school drama group from the Friedrich-Wilhelm-Gymnasium in Trier.
EDIT: For some reason, WP seems to reject my code, so I will simply just put the link here. Click it!
I think this is excellent, outstanding work – for students, of course. Still, very enjoyable, and worth more than a small note: In a time when most kids usually respond to reading with sentences like ‘does this exist as a smartphone app?’, I am delighted to see that even classic writers like Droste still get such a passionate and engaging treatment. 🙂 Gonna copy that MO for a poem I do with my own class.
Like many Romantic poems, Der Knabe im Moor (“The Boy in the Bog”) works as a song, and even to this day, the poem is, at least with some fringe musicians, popular enough to receive an arranged recording here and there.
I have collected some of the finer musical arrangements for you – mind you that I do not know much about the respective bands outside of this, though, asI am not particularly interested in the neo-pagan musical scene, or whatever genre those songs are supposed to belong. Still, I have to give the bands that their respective treatments of Droste’s poem are pretty remarkable. 🙂