Photo by Candia Dixon-Stuart
Heard the wind rustling or rushing through the leaves. Now I know why the valley has that name.
Photo : Kim Traynor, 2011. Wikipedia.
Now to redeme that thow hes maid of nocht,
That is of vertew barrane and denude;
Haif rewth, Lord, of thyne awin symilitude;
Puneiss with pety and nocht with violens.
We knaw it is for our Ingratitude
That we ar puneist with this pestilens.
Thow grant us grace for till amend our miss,
And till evaid this crewall suddane deid;
We knaw our syn is all the cause of thiss,
for oppin syn thair is set no remeid.
The Justice of god mon puneiss than bot dreid,
for by the law he will with non dispens:
quhair Justice laikis thair is Eternall feid,
of god that sowld preserf fra pestilens.
Bot wald the heiddismen that sowld keip the law
Pueneiss the peple for thair transgressioun,
Thair wald na deid the peple than owrthraw:
bot thay ar gevin so planely till oppressioun,
That god will not heir thair intercessioun;
bot all ar puneist for thair Innobediens
be sword or deid withowttin remissioun,
And hes Just cause to send us pestilens.
Superne/ Lucerne/ guberne/ this pestilens,
preserve/ and serve/ that we not sterve thairin.
Declyne/ that pyne/ be thy Devyne prudens.
O trewth/ haif rewth/ lat not our slewth us twin.
Our syt/ full tyt/ wer we contryt/ wald blin.
Dissiver/ did never/ quha evir the besocht.
Send grace/ with space/ and us Imbrace/ fra syn.
Latt nocht be tynt that thow so deir hes bocht.
O prince preclair/ this cair/ cotidiane,
We the exhort/ distort/ it in exyle.
Bot thow remeid/ this deid/ is bot ane trane,
for to dissaif/ the laif/ and thame begyle.
Bot thow sa wyiss/ devyiss to mend this byle
Of this mischief/ quha ma releif/ us ocht
for wrangus win/ bot thow our syn ourfyll?
Latt not be tynt etc.
Sen for our Vyce/ that Justyce/ mon correct,
O king most hie/ now pacifie/ thy feid:
Our syn is huge/ Refuge/ we not suspect;
As thow art Juge/ deluge us of this dreid.
In tyme assent/ or We be schent with deid;
We us repent/ and tyme mispent forthocht:
Candlemas Bells White Purification Snow Piercers
Naked Maidens Good Christians Ice Lilies
February Fairmaids White tears Death Flowers
Shrove Tuesday Fools
Flowers of Hope
Snow Bells Eve’s Tears Mary’s Tears
c Photo and poem by Candia Dixon-Stuart
Photo- and preserve!- by Candia Dixon-Stuart
So excited to find these at Kelmscott and then to allow them to blett, before making
jelly. Supposed to be good with game, or cheese.
These are culs-de-chien, ‘open-arses’ and other scatologically named fruits from the rose
family. Shakespeare and contemporaries loved exploiting double-entendre possibilities
in their lexical field- see ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and references to poppering pears etc
I added a lemon and an apple to the simmering mixture and then raised some sugar to
a rolling boil- and voila!
My grandmother used to say, Never cast a cloot till May is oot.
This, being translated, is tantamount to advising that one should
not strip off, or put one’s winter wardrobe away until… until
2) the month of May is past
Which is it? In Scotland it is probably never a good idea to dispense with a
layer, whatever the time of year, or whatever plant is making its presence
Above is a photo of the May blossom in my garden yesterday. I compromised by
wearing a coat dress – ha! Today I would have needed a Drize-a Bone Aussie
head-to-toe proofed swagman garment.
It’s a wonder there’s any blossom left on the trees after this morning’s deluge!
Females also guilty – should be ‘Mankindsplaining!’ (New generic?)
Hot air forked tongues terminal inexactitudes
tranparent smokescreens inexcusable excuses unmitigated untruths
iniquitous insinuations criminal understatements overblown rhetoric
Father of Lies
Master of Deceit
Hath God said?
hollow rhetoric smooth tongues transparent excuses
anarchy, Andromeda, Animal Farm, Burne-Jones, Cassiopeia, casuistry, censorship, Diaz, Dr Atl, etymology, free expression, guerilla warfare, hacendados, Heaven, Hell, Liberty, liberty/licence, Pre-Raphaelites, Prometheus, revolution, volcanoes
Another poem inspired by Prometheus Unbound
by P B Shelley:
Andromeda by Burne-Jones: Wikipedia
A wheel will come full circle, you will find.
The outcome’s in the etymology
of ‘revolution.’ Think ‘Animal Farm.’
‘You seize the flower; the bloom is shed,’ Rab said.
Heaven and Hell are one’s inner landscapes.
Give a man an inch; he’ll take a mile.
Liberty/ licence – where to draw the line?
Free expression/ censorship : who can judge?
Anarchy is based on casuistry.
Prometheus played with fire and was burnt.
Imagination versus tyranny.
He who is king over himself is free.
Cassiopeia took the liberty
of a frank assessment of others’ looks.
Say nowt if you can’t say anything nice.
Why did the Pre-Raphaelites feel free
to create soft porn from mythology?
Liberty bodices off; shackles on.
‘When tigers are unleashed, who controls them?’
said Diaz, while Dr Atl opposed
slaves’ exploitation by hacendados,
exploding guerilla warfare into print,
like lava from his beloved volcanoes –
but he still became a neo-Nazi.
So, I’m suspicious of all these Titans,
larger than life, whose words stream in the wind.
They’re the self-acknowledged legislators,
crying, ‘Liberty, equality… (Blah!)
prior to being overthrown – not by a coup –
yet everywhere men are free, but in chains.