-Art and the Bible, Francis Schaeffer, 49.
white is the numbness of the mind pain that drowns my sinking soul breaks Vision with boredom of time memories will take their toll yellow is hallucination codes which build reality illusion makes a coffined life memories which none can see red is the colour of regret blood which spills upon these hands slicing up... Continue Reading →
Gerard Manley Hopkins's poetry is stunningly difficult to parse, but when exploring the spaces of and between his words, one cannot help but come to a deep appreciation of the ideals that Hopkins imagined within his poetry. In "As Kingfishers Catch Fire", Hopkins looks at a concept he considered deeply: 'selving'. Using a combination of... Continue Reading →
I am the Bride, who walks in hope, Looking to the Lord of Love; But on my way, my eyes are caught. Within, a battle, not yet fought, Is lost, and drags me from above. Adulterous and wretched, I grope. I am the one who put Him on the Cross. The scoffer who deserves the... Continue Reading →
These chains of thought which bind my heart to thine (Yes, I am captive of your Siren's heart) Hold bitter dreams of love ne'er to be mine And broken hopes of two lives kept apart. This slavery of soul, unbeknownst to you, Restricts my path and turns my eyes away From all that lies before... Continue Reading →
登鹳鹊楼 王之涣 白日依山尽， 黄河入海流。 欲穷千里目， 更上一层楼。 Ascending White Stork Tower by Wang ZhiHuan The white sun sets behind the mountains, the yellow rivers flow into the sea. If you want to view limitless expanses, ascend one more level. I find this poem really interesting. The final two lines literally say, "If you want to see... Continue Reading →
华山 步步登山。 由灰及蓝。 触尽天空。 夜尽日开。 生走向死。 我的人生 在两天理， 历久弥坚。 by 田思月 Hua Mountain by Tian SiYue (my Chinese pen name) Step by step, scale the mount, the grey path to the Blue. Touch the sky. The stars turn to sunrise. Birth passes into death - my life in two days grows more resolute with time.... Continue Reading →
Glory be to God for dappled things – For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough; And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is... Continue Reading →