Mornings Robinson Jeffers would work words into astounding poems, and in the afternoon granite rocks into his Tor House and Hawk Tower. I have always aspired to and admired what he did: observe eveyrthing, and using what he found, make things that endure
It rushes against granite cliffs
Of marbled whorls and striated
Streaks in clefts and ridges
Chiseled by light and wind;
Ancient monuments to the water
They anchor, and eons of fire
In which they were cast and then
Cast up, cold embers the sun
Now flares into flames again;
The elemental cornerstones
On which everything depends.
I am a stone-cutter who has
The vision but not the gift
To reveal what it is he sees,
Release what is so long hidden;
Awaken the old gods who sleep
Deep in these stones, bring them
Into our conscious need of them
To restore our forgotten faith
In some enduring steadfastness:
The resolute radiance of light
On the water and stones rising
Up in the still-astonished air.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2010-11-19 at 13:54
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The Stone-Cutter
There where the river narrowsIt rushes against granite cliffs
Of marbled whorls and striated
Streaks in clefts and ridges
Chiseled by light and wind;
Ancient monuments to the water
They anchor, and eons of fire
In which they were cast and then
Cast up, cold embers the sun
Now flares into flames again;
The elemental cornerstones
On which everything depends.
I am a stone-cutter who has
The vision but not the gift
To reveal what it is he sees,
Release what is so long hidden;
Awaken the old gods who sleep
Deep in these stones, bring them
Into our conscious need of them
To restore our forgotten faith
In some enduring steadfastness:
The resolute radiance of light
On the water and stones rising
Up in the still-astonished air.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 607 times
Written on 2010-11-19 at 13:54
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
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Print text
John Ashleigh |
Lawrence Beck |