Thursday, November 8

A Poem for Thursday.

We have a broadcaster who can be heard regularly on BBC radio 4...Melvyn Bragg...
... an academic and an intellectual...but very interesting and often not so difficult that I don't  get the gist of the meaning of his subject!...well almost anyway!
Recently we listened to a discussion about Aristotle....this great word was used...
...Aristotilian Theology...!
I think that the joy was just the sound of this intellectual term!
It inspired me to write this little bit of verse.

Aristotilian Theology

had not thought
 of you 
as a theologian.

I was assured
by Melvyn
on radio 4 of course.
That even
Arabian writers
would credit you
with that.

mount Olympia
and theology.

do we have 
to boast about?

I'm linking as usual with dVerse Open Link Night ~ Week 55

thankyou once again for the opportunity to put some verse out there!

just around the corner!!!...

The potter is in hospital...never really ill in our lives together and out of the blue....this!!
So in the Poetry Review post today this poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson came up from Ulysses and seemed to touch me very deeply in a situation that I had never been in before...

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought
               with me - 
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads - you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all:but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes:the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans around with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; 
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to find, and not to yield.

I love the lines...Though much is taken.... down to the last strive, to find, and not to yield.
That says it all!