• About

Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: Resurrection

Not Here, But Risen

28 Sunday Mar 2021

Posted by Candia in art, Bible, Personal, Religion, Supernatural

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

churchyard, Cotswolds, Easter, empty tomb, Fairford, Forsythia, gravestone, Resurrection, St Mary's Gloucestershire

Photo by Candia Dixon-Stuart

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Happy Easter!

12 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by Candia in Bible, Personal, Photography, Religion, Social Comment, Spring

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Easter, Easter eggs, Resurrection, victory

IMG_0163 (3)

Photo by Candia

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Easter 1996

30 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by Candia in History, mythology, Nature, Poetry, Religion

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Easter, eclipse, Good Friday, John the Baptist, Lazarus, Resurrection, The Light of the World

We have just had an eclipse, but here is a re-blog of a poem

I wrote 19 years ago:

EASTER 1996

That week we ventured outside at midnight,

when a shadow gradually snuffed the moon,

till the reddened orb, deprived of its light,

stared like the Baptist’s eyeball. In high noon

we think the spotted sphere no longer there.

All the primitive tribes rise to my mind,

who must have viewed such an eclipse, despair

weighing stricken hearts. How they must have signed

to each other when they became aware

of its reappearance. So a small group

watched the waning of their Son as darkness

covered the earth, but they were to recoup

The Light of the World. This Easter I bless

the God of Heaven for resurrection,

looking to the sky for inspiration

through my cataract eyes. So inspection

of the new moon tends to celebration.

Astrological symbols directed

men to the babe. Lunar allegory,

which by most people would be rejected,

confirms for me the Good Friday story.

Most of the time I look through the wrong end

of the telescope; get a false picture;

let the neon town lights obscure my Friend;

forget he’s an omnipresent fixture.

He who controls the weather, cycles, tides,

is sometimes indiscernible through cloud;

never disappears, though he sometimes hides:

rises like Lazarus minus his shroud.

Wikipaedia image

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Requiem for D-Day

15 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by Candia in History, Music, Poetry, Social Comment, Travel, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Brahms, bugle, choral twinning, commemoration, der geist spricht, German Requiem, Great Soul, Lisieux, Pegasus Bridge, reconciliation, Resurrection

Into the Jaws of Death 23-0455M edit.jpg

Around this special time of commemoration and reconciliation, I thought

I’d reblog one of my war poems…

Clammie commiserated:  I can see that you are affected by your friend’s

demise, Candia.  He seems to have been a marvellous character.

He was, I affirmed.  We really got to know each other when we went to

Normandy as part of a choral group, in order to join forces with a French

choir and the Orchestra of Basse-Normandie, in 1994.  It was to

commemorate D-Day and we ended up singing The Brahms Requiem in seven

towns, over a week.  Then the French choir returned with us and we sang it in

England for an eighth time.  We performed it in German as a symbol of

reconciliation and the congregations and audiences gave us standing ovations,

with tears streaming down their faces. Sometimes the concerts were in

buildings which had been bombed and were partially re-built, as in the case

of the church in St Lo.

Didn’t you say that he took you to Pegasus Bridge?

He did.  We arrived at the bridge and he couldn’t believe his eyes as

Major John Howard was sitting at the cafe, having a beer.  We joined

him.  What a legend he had been.  He’s dead now, of course.  My friend

recognised the old hero immediately, as he was a military historian.

Didn’t you write a poem about your trip?

Oh yes.  I have already posted the one I wrote about Pegasus Bridge,

but I will post another one now, if you like.  It tried to sum up my

emotions when we sang in Lisieux.  That thrilling phrase: Ja, der Geist

spricht still creates shivers down my spine.  I suppose it speaks of the

Spirit of Man, as well as the Holy Ghost.  My friend emanated a vital

force of that Great Soul and, since he had been a brave soldier himself,

here is my poem, in his memory.

Photos: Wikipaedia

EIN DEUTSCHES REQUIEM FUR D-DAY

The breath of that great soul speaks in hushed tones,

soothing survivors of Allied assaults-

Brahms bathing the buttered Normandy stones:

tinting kaleidoscopic windows.  Vaults,

in cross-ribs, soar to swelling resonance;

reverberate sharp reminiscences

of those who suffered in this audience.

Choral voices soften dissonances.

Ja, der Geist spricht.  No permanent abode

can house indomitable souls on earth.

When Destruction came, still sweet music flowed,

inspiring creativity where dearth

had reigned before.  The youthful soldiers sleep,

lullabied to lilt of liberation:

seeds watered by grief of those who now weep.

They’ve passed beyond that twinkling of an eye

and rest, sung heroes.  Heartfelt ovation

from grateful present shows they’ll never die

in memory, or appreciation.

And when that final bugle sounds, they’ll rise,

as one, not knowing discrimination,

to jointly celebrate War’s own demise.

Related archive post on P

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Misericordia

19 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by Candia in Literature, Poetry, Religion, Suttonford

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

A Winter's Tale, Holy week, iconography, King Lear, misericordia, misericords, pelican, pelican daughters, Physiologus, Resurrection

I think the term was ‘pelican daughters’, I said to Brassie. Have you read King

Lear?

No, should I have?

Well, it’s where you see the trouble with familial ingratitude, and virtue having

to be its own reward, I expounded.  It’s the same with A Winter’s Tale. 

By the time some people view things clearly and they understand compassion

and forgiveness, it can be too late for any joy in this Vale of Tears.

Life is too short to bear grudges, she agreed.  People can be so gullible

and take everything at face value.

King Lear again, I agreed.  Anyway, I was intensely struck by a misericord a

few years back.  I wasn’t aware of the iconography, but I felt the symbolism

keenly.

Vulning is the technical word.

What’s that? she asked.

Oh, it’s sacrificial wounding.  I read it in a description of a book

called Physiologus, about animals, created about 200 A.C.

Are you going to post another poem? she sighed.

Well, it is one that I wrote a long time ago, but maybe it needs an airing

in Holy Week.

Voila!

MISERICORDIA

A pelican bends her sinewy neck

towards a famished and clamorous brood.

Her ruffled breast is rent by one sharp peck.

She feeds her offspring with her own lifeblood.

Now phoenix-like, amid a flickering fire,

her neck is arched; her throat emits no cry.

The suckling of her children then conspires

to pierce her very heart and suck her dry.

And, as I look, the bird has disappeared.

Gross, engorged chicks ignore what she bequeathed.

And, one by one, these darlings that she’s reared

cannibalise their siblings, claws unsheathed.

But there’s another version that I’ve read:

how male bird, suffering insurrection,

struck by the chicks, twisted each little head.

Three days on, he witnessed resurrection,

having pierced and sacrificed his own blood,

in order to revive his own dear brood.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

St Peter’s Fish

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by Candia in Poetry, Religion

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Galilee, Martyrdom of Peter, Miracle of Great Draught of Fishes, miracles, Resurrection, St Peter

And here is a poem spoken in the voice of Peter, the fisherman who followed Christ:

We had toiled till daybreak and caught nothing,

trawling mercury stains on the glass lake,

but finding them fishless.  He stood watching

us: fishers of men, breathless, scarce awake,

with calloused hands.  Though His breath caused the world

to emerge, He gave us no assistance.

Perhaps the sight of our washed nets unfurled-

co-operation and sheer persistence-

showed Him fallen men performed some tasks well.

When we’d exhausted our efforts, He said:

“Try the other side of the boat.  I tell

you, prophesy that a multitude fed

on two fish is nothing to me.  Vast draughts,

miraculous ingatherings await

you.”

Much later, on the shore, we spied a waft

of smoke and smelt some broiling fish.  He cooked

our breakfast.  We marvelled and ate.

He joined us: a fish out of water; looked

the same, drawing His symbol on the sand.

I dredged my mind to find inspiration

to write about Him, but was barren and

no silver flickerings of creation

took my bait.  Then he blew on smoking coals,

which I kissed.  Their heat took me to my cross,

but not before I’d netted many shoals

of men, small fry and large, for His great cause.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Recent Posts

  • Street Scene in Cambridge
  • Chastleton Cat
  • King’s College Chapel
  • Merton Madonna and Child
  • Cat-holic

Archives

  • June 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012

Categories

  • Animals
  • Architecture
  • art
  • Arts
  • Autumn
  • Bible
  • Celebrities
  • Community
  • Crime
  • Education
  • Environment
  • Family
  • Fashion
  • Film
  • gardens
  • History
  • Home
  • Horticulture
  • Hot Wings
  • Humour
  • Industries
  • James Bond films
  • Jane Austen
  • Language
  • Literature
  • Media
  • Music
  • mythology
  • Nature
  • News
  • Nostalgia
  • Olympic Games
  • Parenting
  • Personal
  • Philosophy
  • Photography
  • Poetry
  • Politics
  • Psychology
  • Relationships
  • Religion
  • Romance
  • Satire
  • Sculpture
  • short story
  • short story
  • Social Comment
  • Sociology
  • Sport
  • Spring
  • St Swithun's Day
  • Summer
  • Summer 2012
  • Supernatural
  • Suttonford
  • television
  • Tennis
  • Theatre
  • Travel
  • urban farm
  • White Horse
  • winter
  • Writing

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

acrylic acrylic painting acrylics Alex Salmond Andy Murray Ashmolean Australia Autumn barge black and white photography Blenheim Border Terrier Boris Johnson Bourbon biscuit boussokusekika Bradford on Avon Brassica British Library Buscot Park charcoal Charente choka clerihew Coleshill collage Cotswolds David Cameron dawn epiphany Fairford FT funghi Genji George Osborne Gloucestershire Golden Hour gold leaf Hampshire herbaceous borders Hokusai husband hydrangeas Jane Austen Kelmscott Kirstie Allsopp Lechlade Murasaki Shikibu mushrooms National Trust NSW Olympics Oxford Oxfordshire Pele Tower Pillow Book Prisma reflections Roger Federer Sculpture Shakespeare sheep Spring Spring flowers still life Suttonford Tale of Genji Thames Thames path Theresa May Victoria watercolour William Morris willows Wiltshire Winchester Cathedral

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,570 other subscribers

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Join 1,570 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d bloggers like this: