Friday, October 10, 2008

When You Have a Moment

As my scanner was fritzing out last night I don't have a new piece to show (I do but it is only a prototype) I have been very busy getting my pitch ready for the class I trying to teach. I am sure you will forgive me.

In the stead of tangible art work I will give you art in words. When You have a moment I would like to to read some of my favorite poems. The Bridge of Sighs by Thomas Hood is my ultimate favorite. Of course, with most great work it has to be read more than once but when you feel that true depth of emotion it is paralyzing!

The Bridge of Sighs (Thomas Hood)

ONE more Unfortunate,

Weary of breath, Rashly importunate,

Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,

Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly

Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments Clinging like cerements;

Whilst the wave constantly

Drips from her clothing;

Take her up instantly,

Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not scornfully;

Think of her mournfully,

Gently and humanly;

Not of the stains of her,

All that remains of her

Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny

Rash and undutiful:

Past all dishonour,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's family--

Wipe those poor lips of hers

Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb,

Her fair auburn tresses;

Whilst wonderment guesses

Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity

Of Christian charity

Under the sun!

O, it was pitiful!

Near a whole city full,

Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly

Feelings had changed:

Love, by harsh evidence,

Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver

So far in the river,

With many a light

From window and casement,

From garret to basement, S

he stood, with amazement,

Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver;

But not the dark arch,

Or the black flowing river:

Mad from life's history,

Glad to death's mystery,

Swift to be hurl'd--

Anywhere, anywhere

Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly--

No matter how coldly

The rough river ran--

Over the brink of it,

Picture it--

think of it,

Dissolute Man!

Lave in it,

drink of it,

Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,

Lift her with care;

Fashion'd so slenderly,

Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly,

Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them;

And her eyes, close them,

Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring

Thro' muddy impurity,

As when with the daring

Last look of despairing

Fix'd on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,

Spurr'd by contumely,

Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity,

Into her rest.--

Cross her hands humbly

As if praying dumbly,

Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,

Her evil behaviour,

And leaving, with meekness,

Her sins to her Saviour!

Okay it is most hard to just pick on from the king of macabre! (spelling). But this I thought I should share because not everyone knows the true rhythmic Majesty of The Bells... although I love all of Poe's pieces this one is very .... perfect

This is not the best reading I have ever heard but.. they are not easy to find for free online. Really sit back and listen to the rhythm of 'the bells'....

Beautiful paranoia!

Smooches and have a TERROR-ific weekend ;)



Designs by CK said...

Popping in to say hello & wish you a great weekend Steph! :)


Veronica said...

Oh oh oh oh oh oh have you ever read annabelle lee? a fantastic poe poem.... sad but fantastic
love the halloweenie look girl. How are you feeling today???????

is everything okay

Fannie said...

Hope you had a great weekend, Steph!

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