Monday, January 31, 2011

The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

I am currently reading Selected Poems by T. S. Eliot and I have simply fallen in love with him.
I had never read much, if any, of his poems but from the first stanza I was hooked! Isn't it just wonderful discovering "new" poets?

So far, one of my favourite Eliot poems has been "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" which is one of his most famous poems.
It is a rather long poem so I will only share an excerpt from it. (This excerpt starts {and ends} somewhere in the middle of the poem. I chose this particular section because I amazingly found three images on weheartit that go with it.)

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

{Pictures found here, here, and here.}

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

You are invasions,
skin deep molecules of sun.
I was once Happy
brilliance hidden under windowsills
gentle curtained silks lining my days,
though it never seemed that way.
If only I could see me now...
(Hello again, dears. Just a reminder that any authors wanting to join our blog can email me or just comment below to leave your email address. I saw the most amazing thing the other day that I thought might inspire someone. I was stopped at a red light and in the lawn beside us there was a water spout. I have no idea why it was there, but it appeared to have been on recently because...
There was ice, frozen and floating,
a stream in midair...
.... And it was beautiful...

Monday, January 24, 2011

For Ever

{Ever, this is for you. It was inspired by your comment on this post. Do you remember? You later included it one of your lovely posts but what I didn't tell you was that it had also inspired me to write this poem. I never posted it but I thought it seemed fitting to finally post it on here.}

"I'm falling apart," you say
I will put you back together, I vow
I will add some things to you
Beautiful things

In your eyes I will infuse a poem by Plath
That is sad and delicate
and someday some boy will endeavor to make them happy again
(perhaps he will suceed)

In your voice, your words I will weave a
symphony of sounds by Tchaikovsky
Arpeggios by Chopin, by Debussy

In your bones
You will have a strength, a wiseness
Dickens & Austen
But also a touch of Carroll
(We cannot be complete without some whimsy, some humour).

Your tears will fall as snowflakes,
Your laughter will plant seeds that grow into wildflowers

And finally, in your heart & soul you will have
a great capacity for feeling, for loyalty, for love
But I cannot get these for you from anywhere
No, you must find these yourself:
You must be unique
You must be wholly yourself
as well as part of everything else

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Blackberrying- by Sylvia Plath

Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
with blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accomodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks-
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanginng their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me, gapping its phantom laundry in my face.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beatiing at an intractable metal.
(I so adore Sylvia Plath. I recited this poem for my poetry slam and it was a wonderful experience xxx)

Thank You!

I am so glad that this blog is building itself so very quickly! I am still working on getting organized, but I have granted Melee and Bella with admin privileges and I encourage you both to add any blogs that you follow and should be viewed onto the Whorls page. Also I would like to welcome Lilah, who I have sadly never met. If you would like to be an author I can send you the invite. I will need your email address and I will also grant you admin privileges.
Please feel free to post whatever you like on here as it is for what we create, what inspires us and what might inspire others.
If you all could try and spread the word on your blogs I think we could create something really amazing.


Friday, January 21, 2011


Adj: not easily controlled: obstinate. For us, dear writers and friends, I hope that this place grows to be intractable. A living, incessant pour of thoughts where we can help each other grow and connect in this ravelled blogging realm. If anyone wants to become an author you may send me your email address, hopefully knowing that there is no proof I can give that I am trustworthy other than my word. I will also add any blogs that are yours or that you think are lovely to read on the Whorls page. Simply leave the URL in a comment and I will add it as soon as possible. You are all so very lovely and I look forward to writing with you. My email: