Husband Gunnar is teaching me to use natural sunlight adding depth, shadows and life to a picture.Alas I forgot my mother's dust theorem;
"Spring reveals all your hidden sins."
Found this little poem to comfort me..and hopefully you.
Little Cosmic Dust Poem
John Haines
Out of the debris of dying stars
this rain of particles
that waters the waste with brightness..
The sea-wave of atoms hurrying home,
collapse of the giant
unstable guest who cannot stay.
The sun's heart reddens and expands,
his mighty aspiration is lasting,
as the shell of his substance
one day will be white with frost.
In the radiant field of Orion
great hordes of stars are forming.
just as we see every night,
fiery and faithful to the end.
Out of the cold and fleeing dust
that is never and always,
the silence and waste to come.
This arm, this hand,
my voice, your face, this love.
Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.
36 comments:
Remember, felisol, dust is a protective covering! Ha! Happy Ruby Tuesday! Gunnar suggestions works! Lovely photo! :)
Greetings to you, Felisol, from Alabama, USA. I reached your place from Lidj's. I have been inspired as I have visited your blog.
I am so thankful to have found Crown of Beauty. I have been richly rewarded by Lidj's faith. It's a privilege to find other women of God around the world who share my faith and love for Him.
May God bless you and bless you indeed with the riches of His grace this day.
In His Name,
Andrea
That's a beautiful shot.
Oh my, what a verse!
And I'd agree that your natural lighting works very well.
Love all your red books, Felisol. Don't worry about a little dust.
Your husband is a good teacher. ;-)
Books are always a wining image.
Bonsoir Felisol.
I love to watch books on shelves. They comfort me. Why ? I can"t explain. I hope we never have to read novels on computers. Books gives the impression of "possessing" the story, mastering it. You can easily turn back a few pages before, to read again a passage......
I like this picture, Felisol. It's like a picture of one's soul. A kind of "Tell me what you read, I'll tell you who you are". Very personal.
Very nice shot!=)
Your dust poem is perfect for the beautiful photo you shared today ;--)
Hugs and blessings,
Dear Andrea,
I have tried for half an hour to leave a message on your blog, but in vain.
I don't get why I am rejected, but sadly, that's how it is.
From Felisol
How in the world did you ever find that poem? I am so amazed, you are able to post just the right poem for everything!
Sunlight will reveal dust that's for sure. My dad used to gently wash even the leaves in his garden, to make sure they always looked fresh and green!
Loved your photos. You encourage me to keep learning. Do visit my first Ruby Tuesday post that I did last week. It's my first attempt. Not too happy with the quality of the pictures, somehow, my indoor shots aren't too nice, compared to my outdoor ones.
See you again soon.
Fantastic Felisol,
the photo and poem and mother 's theorem is the best.
Comforts me in my daily battle with dust.Summer brings waves of dust into the house due to the dry atmosphere - I get exhausted just by looking at it.
dear felisol,
after i read this fantastic poem, i googled mr.haines.
my..he has written so many poetry books and won so many awards!
i love poetry and when bernie and i moved into a much smaller house, i had to get rid of hundreds of books but i am telling you, i didn't get rid of not one of my many books of poetry.
i used to love to memorize and one time in school where i was always made fun of , i determined in myself [when we were each told to memorize our favourite poem] to recite one of sir alfred noyes ballads. "the ballad of dick turpin"
i said it perfect and with so much expression that the kids thoroughly enjoyed it, although, i must admit i did not say the one swear word that was in it. and the students didn't even mock me for putting that "darn" in there!
oh felisol, i just googled that poem...oh how gruesome it is but i was a kid and i just saw the excitement in it at the time!!
plus the challenge of showing those kids that i was not a dummie.
oh the terrible pride of my heart!
O woe is me...now you will think i was a bad kid.
this is of course before i became a christian three years later..ha!
after that the kids in literature class, at least never teased me again..
oh those lines of books brought back that memory to me felisol/
i am just glad that when i practiced that poem, mom golden didn't hear!!!
oh oh...i would have gotten the wooden spoon or the fly swatter indeed even at the ripe old age of 15!
i enjoyed your poem and i especially enjoyed mom ljung's quote..."spring reveals all of your hidden sins"
oh i am afraid that your post has revealed to me the sin, i never even knew was a sin, let alone a "hidden" one.
oh that ballad....so bad!................love terry
Dear Terry,
amongst others we share our love for poetry.
Both my parents were literature lovers and poetry lovers in particular.
My dad even wrote me small poems in English and German.
My mother still recites long poems by her homestead poet, Arne Garborg. She also recently read a beautiful poem written by my cousin Bjorn about Maria Magdalen in a Blue Cross assembly.
She, who a year ago hardly could speak!
I am a strong spokeswoman for the skill learning by heart, be it hymns, poetry, mathematical laws or Bible verses.
My mother lay in hospital, could hardly speak after her stroke, but taught the young nurses how to calculate the area of a pentagon.
They then realized that her intellect had not been damaged. My father in his last month could recite German prepositions conducting dative, accusative and genitive.
Amazing.
Nothing beats the beautiful context of a poem put together in verse, rhythm and stunningly allegories.
The Eagle.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands,
close to sun in lonely lands,
ringed with the azure world he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls,
He watches form His mountains walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Tennyson
and Felisol
because i have always been afraid of the sea felisol, this poem here really intrigues me,
it is written by a Newfoundland, canada poet, e j pratt.
"It took the sea a thousand years
A thousand years to trace
The granite features of this cliff
In crag and scarp and base.
It took the sea an hour one night
An hour of storm to place
The sculpture of these granite seams
Upon a woman's face".
such a sad poem felisol...love terry
dear felisol, this one is long but it is so funny!
The Calf-Path
One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell—wether sheep
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell—wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed — do not laugh -
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way.
And lost one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.
Dear Terry,
you for sure should be ordained to preach.
You have enlightened my day with words ever lasting.
I wish I were better at simultanous translating.
One of my Norwegian favorite poems ends about like this;
"For life is eternity and eternal is the word." Tor Jonsson
& Felisol
I love your photo.
The photo came out really well using natural light, Felisol. And I enjoyed the poem very much. ;-)
As I say to my family, "It's just dust."
Happy Ruby Tuesday ~
Lovely Ruby Tuesday shot. I love all the different reds, beautiful. Well Gunnar sure knows what he is talking about. Happy Ruby Tuesday! :)
my RT
dust adds character
beautiful shot Felisol, so rich and interesting
books are always lovely to me
Beautiful shot.
Never mind the dust ;)
Love the poem too :D
LOVE the photo and the poem. But I must tell you that your dust is so minimal that it barely counts as dust. Exquisite photo.
just right amount of red not to much and plenty at the same time great background
I love the poem you shared, and all your red books are so inviting. What's a little dust among friends?
Dear Felisol,
I mentioned something about you in my blog post today entitled Beyond Blind Faith. Visit when you can.
dear felisol...just stepping by to tell you that serina is being prayed for in canada...tell her that we really do love her....love terry
Very beautiful photo, Felisol. Praying for you today, especially Serina. My love to you and yours...and His peace and grace be multiplied in your home always.
love,
Vicki
The longer I am around dust, the less it fazes me! It's when people start writing in it, leaving me notes that it bothers me!
Have you ever ever heard of this book? The American Title is,
"We Die Alone A WW2 Epic of Escape & Endurance". It is the story of Jan Baalsrud.
"It begins in the spring of 1943, with Norway occupied by the Nazis and the Allies desperate to open the northern sea lanes to Russia. Baalsrud and three compatriots plan to smuggle themselves into their homeland by boat, spend the summer recruiting and training resistance fighters, and launch a surprise attack on a German air base. But he's betrayed shortly after landfall, and a quick fight leaves Baalsrud alone and trapped on a freezing island above the Arctic Circle."
This looks MY kind of reading and I wondered if you were familiar with his story?
Have a lovely Friday
Connie
Hi Felisol,
Thanks for sharing that with us! We love your
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Dear Connie,
I guess every Norwegian at my age know Jan Baalsrud and admire his extraordinary heroic effort during the war.
He often was left completely alone. Most famous is perhaps when he had to cut off several frozen toes with a knife, to avoid dying from gangrene, alone in the artic wilderness.
He always was such a modest person, didn't like all the fuss about what he'd done.
In Norway his biography was called "Nine lives".
So was the movie based on the book.
It was actually nominated for a best foreign movie Academy Award in 1957-1958.
We share an interest for reading biographies, Constance.
I find that real life always exceeds fiction in content and diversity.
From Felisol
dusting!!! yikes!!! you should see my poor house ... it needs a spring cleaning in the worst way!
loved the pic ... :o)
blessings on you!
Hi Felisol, I couldn't see the dust for the red! :-)
We should be back May 7th, this has been a nice holiday. Our son, Tim, is with us this time. We have taken both his daughters (our grandkids) with us before and he has often said the 'next' would be his turn. Well, this was the next, we tried calling his bluff, and he came.
..
Oh good you are familiar with his story! I will definitely put it on my list! We are defintiely alike, biographies are much better than fiction, real people, real stories!
As a WW2 fanatic, Dave and I began watching a series that was made in 1974, titled,
"The World at War".
It has been touted as the best documentary ever made on the event, narrated by none other than Laurence Olivier!
I am sure that I am like most Americans, pretty self-absorbed. For many years what I knew of WW2 was how it affected Americans or my mother who is from Germany. I was ignorant of events in Europe leading up to Hitler's rise to power.
Last night, we watched the segment where England mined the waters in an attempt to prevent the coal from Norway getting through to the Germans. We watched as Helsinki was bombed and the failed efforts of England to fight against the Germans, who were better armed.
It is all archival footage that is being shown. Absolutely amazing! The more I learn about WW2 the more and more I am amazed at how this event transformed the entire world!
Hugs today my friend!
Connie
What dust? The photo was so good i didn't even notice! Praying for Serina...and YOU, cause Mama's fret when our babies have troubles.
I am BLIND to dust. When the cobwebs come out, THEN I pay attention. LOL Well, not that bad but you get the point.
I do like this. It works for Ruby Tuesday too! And you just can't have too many books.
Oh, btw - we have three of our kitties tucked away in our backyard too. One has her own little headstone. We had her for 19 1/2 years.
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