Monday, November 12, 2012

November 11th, Sunday


November 11th, Sunday. A relaxed morning. Read in bed to Constance from Dorothy Wordsworth’s journal. After a breakfast of fried bacon, marrow and mushrooms C went to church and I worked in the wood. A beautiful day, calm, good light from a broken sky. Autumn colours the finest I have seen. Even the sycamores have shades of yellow and red, the maples big golden blooms and cotoneaster like crimson fireworks. Underfoot the coloured leaves exceeding beautiful. I felled several trees and sawed a large pile of seasoned wood for the stoves. In the evening we dined on a thick broth of peas and ham. I wrote to TM about an Osmunda fern he’d shown me long ago. I moved one last year from the wild. It took well and was now a good yellow. Curious to read that its flower used in amorous Slavonic rites. In the evening I struggled with Wallace Steven’s essay, ‘Imagination as Value’ and turning instead to his poems found, ‘The Poem That Took the Place of a Mountain'. I think it exceeding good and seemed to speak of Dorothy and William’s poetic struggles.

There it was, word for word,
The poem that took the place of a mountain.

He breathed its oxygen,
Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.

It reminded him how he had needed
A place to go to in his own direction,

How he had recomposed the pines,
Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,

For the outlook that would be right,
Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:

The exact rock where his inexactness
Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,

Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea,
Recognize his unique and solitary home.
 

3 Comments:

Blogger stone drum said...

Hello John, have not yet found a posting rhythm, nor a pace that will align me with a new readership. feels this venue is so vast, that one does a write, and makes it right by enjoying the adventure of words and process and the rest just happens as it happens. Much like life I suspect, one receives from it all, that which is given.

Having said that, i suspect you can follow this back to my site. posting once a week if that.

bad weather and holidays abound. will gather force as the darkness comes calling.

be well. enjoyed this posting. rocks. stones. mountain. words. poem. contemplation stride for stride with scholarship. I did enjoy. be well

3:03 am  
Blogger Johnthebarman said...

Thanks Stoney. Its such a joy that you read my constructions.
I love that comment, "..will gather force as the darkness comes calling". My wife is reading, "The Wayward Mind" by Guy Claxton, an intimate history of the unconscious. I am reading a new novel, "The Light Between Oceans" which is brilliant but takes me into a guilt ridden darkness. It is set on Janus rock in Western Australia. The only inhabitants are Tom, his young wife and a baby, Lucy. He cares for the light house.

Thanks for your light across the Oceans.

11:43 am  
Blogger stone drum said...

Each day becomes easier, if only we let go of the old ways, and grasp the new.

Say this in regards to: Stonedrum.blogspot.com I wrote a comment, you reply and on my gmail.com is an alert, that contains your comment. Instantly, I record it in a notes file for the day, used to focus what is of interest and what is not.

Comment fields are not a place for long emails. But what are they for? So I write this and post it. In time I will be schooled what is correct.

Have written down both books mentioned: The Light Between Oceans. The Wayward Mind. Have interest.

Will write a blog after drinking my tea and posting this. About the things I would say in an email about the topics introduced today, because of your comment alert.

Each day becomes easier, if only…..we let it be.

Thanks John for the hello.

5:45 pm  

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