The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
William Butler Yeats
Hello everybody! Since it is a Monday, technically (about 1:15 am in WA), I thought that I would send out the Poem of the Week! And let you all know that I am back at college safe, sound, and happy as a clam. In the wet wet air. I felt that I couldn't wait until tomorrow to send out the poem, because we just finished a VERY long game of Risk, and I needed something poetic to calm my warring soul. Or some BS like that. Mostly I didn't feel like waiting for tomorrow, because sending the POW out is one of my favorite activities, for some reason. I thought this poem especially appropriate this week in light of Mr Bush's coming second inaguration. I had been thinking of this one for this week for quite some time, and am pleased to finally be able to send it out. I apologise if this offends anybody's political beliefs. If you want to ignore this email or send me a nasty (yet intelligently constructed/thought out) response, I would be more than willing to read it. Not like the poem of the week is some national publication that could actually affect anything. Like I said, I mostly do this to amuse myself and then I hope that others will take a little enjoyment from it. Oh yeah and I think this poem is one of Yeats' more major works, and good to at least read. If nothing else, the gutteral sounds and somewhat chafing imagery could carry it as one of my favorites. So, again, sorry, and next week's, I promise, will be back on the usual politic-free track.
************ CHANGE IN POEM OF THE WEEK!!!
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
I changed this poem of the week after seeing a Martin Luther King Jr. gospel sermon discussing positive thinking, love, and what you can do in the world. So I changed the PotW into something that would give a positive message to the world. If anyone has my original comments on this, I would greatly appreciate your sending them to me! Thank you.