Ash Wednesday 3

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Ash Wednesday, T S Eliot

The rest of my version of T S Eliot’s poem:

 

IV

I have spoken of trivial things,

in ignorance, negligence and through my own deliberate fault.

Sovegna nos.

You have restored through my bright cloud of tears

the years the locusts  have wasted

and given me a new verse to an ancient rhyme,

enabling me to redeem my dream; redeem the time.

 

V

No lost word is lost; no spent word is spent.

Your word is heard- the Word within

the world and for the world.

Your light shone in the darkness.

What has He done for me?

 

VI

I do hope to turn again;

I do hope;

I hope to turn.

I no longer waver between profit and loss,

in this brief transit in which all dreams lead to the cross:

the dream-crossed twilight between birth and dying.

I am flying with unbroken wings -seaward,

towards a granite shore.

I hear the cry of quail and whirling plover

and glimpse shining forms between the ivory gates.

This is the time of tension between dying and birth.

 

Suffer us to have a sense of irony.

Teach us to care and not to care,

nor take ourselves too seriously.

Teach us to be still;

our peace is in His will.

And I pray the spirit of the sea

shall never let me know severance,

but will let my cry come unto Thee.

Ash Wednesday 2

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Ash Wednesday, Lady Ottoline Morrell, T S Eliot

(Bear with…  it is closely based on Eliot’s poem and so

goes on a bit!)

 

(T S Eliot, 1934

Image by Lady Ottoline Morrell;

cropped by Octave.H)

 

I

Because I do hope to turn again…

because I do hope;

because I do hope to turn,

desiring my own gift and my own scope.

I do strive to strive towards such things.

( Why shouldn’t I mount up with eagles’ wings?

Why shouldn’t  I celebrate

my replenished power and the banishment of pain?)

 

Because I do hope to feel again

the glory of the positive hour;

because I do think;

because I am known and I shall know

the sole veritable eternal power.

Because I can drink

there, where trees flower and springs flow,

for there is something again.

Because I know that time is always time,

but place is never only place

and what is actual is actual for eternity

and not just for the here and now.

I rejoice that things will be as they will be

and I cherish the blessed face;

internalise the voice.

Because I hope to turn again-

consequently I rejoice, not having to construct something

upon which to rejoice.  I have been given choice.

 

I pray to God to have mercy on me

and know that He will forget

those matters that with myself I too much discuss-

too much justify and explain…

because I do hope to turn again,

let these words answer

for what was done and for those things

from which I should have refrained.

Judgement need not lie heavy upon us.

 

Because these wings still have a capacity to fly

and will buoy me up in the air-

the air which is fresh and pure, though dry,

expansive and inspirational.

Teach me to care and not to care.

Teach me to sit still,

confident that an advocate prays for me

now and will do at the hour of death.

 

II

After the leopards fed to satiety on my heart,

my innards and the contents of my mind,

my skeletal remains shone with brightness;

your oblivion transformed what had been rejected

into something substantial and resurrected.

Now my bones live; I do not prophesy to the wind,

but am transported to a garden where torment has vanished

and I am glad to have my bones scattered under a tree

in the cool of the day, where neither unity nor division matter

and I am to have my inheritance and will not be banished.

 

III

I no longer fear the devil on the stair-

the one whose face shows hope and dark despair.

I have climbed beyond the second stair

and caught the scent of hawthorn there.

I heard the antique flute’s distracting notes

but found the shibboleth I needed in my throat.

Lord, You made me worthy.

 

 

The final stanzas tomorrow.  This is a long haul poem

and I am trying to follow, but counter Eliot!

Ash Wednesday 1

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Cranmer, ecumenicism, Lent, Palestrina, T S Eliot

Feria Quarta Cinerum

(Image- Jennifer Balaska 2/2/12; author Oxh973)

I won’t go into all the Lenten references to words spoken over

Adam and Eve, referring to the dust to which they shall return.

I won’t go into Cranmer’s dismissal of the procedure as

‘superstitious’ nor its ecumenical resurrection in the 1970s.

What I did- prior to preparing to sing Palestrina’s Reproaches– was

re-read and listen to T S Eliot’s acclaimed poem.  I found his voice

lugubrious and the tone exhausted.  Still, he seemed to have squeezed

through the eye of the needle, in spite of his cultural baggage.

Thanks be to God!

Here’s my version.  I tried to be more positive!  And if you don’t think

I succeed, then I abhor myself in the proverbial dust and cinders and

promise to roll around in a bit of sackcloth.  But fasting?  Well, that’s

more difficult!

See following post…..

 

 

First World Spat

Tags

clerihew, Lagerfield, Meryl Streep

(Meryl Streep

Berlin Berlinale 66

author: GlynLowe.com, Hamburg)

 

Meryl Streep

thought it made her look cheap,

when Lagerfield accused her of wanting to be paid to wear his dress.

It would have looked much better on her, I must confess.

Sunday Clerihew

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clerihew, Sir Mo Farah, Usada

(Photo by Tim Hipps,

US Army IMCOM Public Affairs

21/8/16 cropped)

 

 

Sir Mo Farah,

referring to Usada*,

you appear to be clean.

But as for some coaches- it remains to be seen!

 

*US Anti-Doping agency

Shades of Frost

Tags

contrition, grace, maze, retrospective, Robert Frost

(Robert Frost by Fred Palumbo, World Telegram

Staff Reporter- Library of Congress, NY- Telegram

and Sun Collection.)

Two views diverged on what really took place.

I attempted to see each perspective

and tried not to mind if I lost face

and, though my friends told me not to abase

myself, I did so, in retrospective.

I felt we were lost in a foggy wood

and could not see it for looking at trees.

I endeavoured not to use the word ‘should’;

I projected myself into your mood,

but had no access, as you held the keys.

I wanted to walk down that path with you,

but, when I stretched out my hand, you had gone

and brambles and thorns restricted my view.

Pushing on, my clothing soaked with the dew,

thick darkness did not disperse with the dawn.

I’m telling this now because, with a sigh,

we may look back on our past position

and wonder how we could let ourselves die

and cover our ears to the other’s cry,

harbouring pain; stifling contrition.

Two views diverge on what really took place.

Whatever occurred, it was all so slight

and only the chance to display some grace

would have shown us the exit from the maze.

We are both lost because neither was right.

Friday’s Clerihew

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clerihew, Nigel Farage, UKIP

(Photo:Flickr- Euro Realist Newsletter, 2008)

 

Nigel Farage,

you’ve been hiding in your garage

ever since the leaked news about your private life.

Stay there: we are all on the side of your long-suffering wife.

Clerihew of the Day

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clerihew, Harrison Ford

(Photo by Gage Skidmore- San Diego, 2015)

 

Harrison Ford,

I think we are all getting bored

with your various aeroplane near misses

and feedback on your less than arousing screen kisses.

Tuesday Clerihew

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clerihew, humble pie, Wayne Shaw

Wayne Shaw,

it doubtless sticks in your craw

that you’ve had to say goodbye

and slowly digest some humble pie.

(Image from TreasuryIsland children’s literature blog.

I could not see an acknowledgement of where the drawing

originated.  I will acknowledge its origin if anyone knows

the copyright situation.)

Saturday Clerihew

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Paul Nuttall, UKIP

(Image: Paul Nuttall

UKIP Leader

flickr.com/photos 33119465

Author: Euro Realist Newsletter)

Paul Nuttall,

it’s all very well offering us a rebuttal.

Okay, someone committed a ‘blunder,’

but the implication you have close friends at all is a greater source of wonder.