Showing posts with label Sirens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sirens. Show all posts
Thursday, June 27, 2019
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Images of a Day (The Slow Version)
Coffee out at the Point: sailing school weather, bright skies and light airs.
Summer's recommended reading: Homer's Iliad!
Garage art: the clay bits are mine.
I'm still getting over another round of illness--sore throat, cough, headaches, body aches, whatever--so the day has been a slow one with a coffee jaunt followed by garage-time, by old projects and new projects.
Old school depth gauge; fishing gear.
Salvage work: the larger 'blue boat'.
Photocopied art from Classical Greece: inspiration while using the old rowing machine.
Photocopied art from Classical Greece II: inspiration for sculpting heads.
Garage art: inspiration from Ayrton and Weil.
Waterhouse's "The Siren", I think.
Old wall-fish: stoneware; blue glazing.
Fresh whale: air-dry clay, first attempt/use.
Mermaid (rough): air-dry clay.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Fowles: "Lightning Strikes"
"Truth is born as lightning strikes." --Archilochos (via Davenport)
TWO POEMS FROM JOHN FOWLES:
THE EXPERIENCE
You go down the right turnings
just as it says in the guide,
and it isn't there.
You turn up at the right room
at the right time,
in the right month and moonlight;
and it isn't there.
You discover the right grove,
you stand about on damp leaves.
A man on a tractor passes
and thinks you are mad.
You have the paper and the time,
you have the lot,
and nothing comes.
And it comes
at the start of a busy day
as you shave in a hurry,
cog with no time.
The wind. And you stand,
blinded till you are not blind.
--John Fowles
WITHIN TEN SECONDS
Within ten seconds
I knew I wanted to kiss your eyelids.
This is why I kept staring
Past you, as if to a cold horizon.
You were not boring me, as you thought.
I was looking to where you stood
Smelling of rain, with naked breasts.
Naked, defenceless, needing defence.
It was not as you thought,
You were piqued and moved away.
I was the one who by silence,
Staring, no move, moved away.
Where pine trees touch water.
I am
Men who tie themselves to masts.
You are
Sirens with delicate eyelids.
Penelope is white with lust.
Molpe, the deck has tears
And the rock has tears.
Even the sun has molten tears.
Meeting, never to meet again.
--John Fowles
TWO POEMS FROM JOHN FOWLES:
THE EXPERIENCE
You go down the right turnings
just as it says in the guide,
and it isn't there.
You turn up at the right room
at the right time,
in the right month and moonlight;
and it isn't there.
You discover the right grove,
you stand about on damp leaves.
A man on a tractor passes
and thinks you are mad.
You have the paper and the time,
you have the lot,
and nothing comes.
And it comes
at the start of a busy day
as you shave in a hurry,
cog with no time.
The wind. And you stand,
blinded till you are not blind.
--John Fowles
WITHIN TEN SECONDS
Within ten seconds
I knew I wanted to kiss your eyelids.
This is why I kept staring
Past you, as if to a cold horizon.
You were not boring me, as you thought.
I was looking to where you stood
Smelling of rain, with naked breasts.
Naked, defenceless, needing defence.
It was not as you thought,
You were piqued and moved away.
I was the one who by silence,
Staring, no move, moved away.
Where pine trees touch water.
I am
Men who tie themselves to masts.
You are
Sirens with delicate eyelids.
Penelope is white with lust.
Molpe, the deck has tears
And the rock has tears.
Even the sun has molten tears.
Meeting, never to meet again.
--John Fowles
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