I think it is from this author. Anyway, this is a great essay on the power and duty of the Poet: What I am suggesting now is that it is the poet who most effectively names things in this way, who most powerfully arrests our attention from the seemingly chaotic tenor of experience and begins to display to us the determinate nature of the reality encompassing us. This is one of the key respects in which poetic language differs from non-poetic language. We customarily think of the language of poetry as being unique on account of its expressiveness, its sweetness, or
W.H. Auden on Virgil’s political tone? No, Virgil, no Not even the first of the Romans can learn His Roman history in the future tense Not even to serve your political turn Hindsight as foresight makes no sense. (“Secondary Epic”)
Poetry is not monologic, but rather, dialogic, even poetry as rustic as this: O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly play’d in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry: Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run. And fare thee well, my only
Love is not just a function of the eyes. Beautiful objects will, of course, inspire Possessive urges – you need not despise your taste. But when insatiable desire Inflames you for a girl who’s out of fashion, Lacking in glamour – plain, in fact – that fire is genuine; that’s the authentic passion. Beauty,though, any critic can admire.
Golden-horned moon and fire-bright stars whom Ocean receives in her bosom, do you see these things, how myrrhbreathing Ariste has gone away and left me alone, and now for a sixth day I cannot find the witch? But still I will seek her out: look, I will send the silver sleuth-hounds of Aphrodite after her.
“You may try a hundred things, but Love alone will release you from your self. So never flee from Love — not even from love in an earthly guise — for it is a preparation for the supreme Truth. How will you ever read the Koran without learning the alphabet?” – Nur ad-Dīn Abd ar-Rahmān Jāmī Ahhh, yes, the Mystics….
I was in a rather reflective mood last night and wrote some poetry titled Finding Peace The waves of life washing over my feet, hypnotically I stare ahead, not really noticing my feet sinking into the sands of time. It takes all my energy just to stand, against the forces against me… and the Sea of Life. Masses of people going to and fro, like waves on the shore. Coming and going with the tide of societies expectation. Crashing and eroding ones sanity with the ethic of greed and consumption. The weight of the grains of more, add to the dunes