SUNDAY POETRY

"...in the days before Thales of Miletus (c.624-548BC), one of the seven sages of antiquity who taught that the earth was made from water and who taught that the earth rested on water, in all these days before, another sort of story is in keeping..."  ~Singing Water, stephanie pope 


“A rain so hard
conforms,” says he,
“confines,” says he

rain so hard it pierced my skin
reached way down, way down
and in; formed it did a rivulet

and from within my dry soul wet

and wet and wet that river red
The King of Clay, atop his head
“Conform,” says he, “confine,” says he

who floated by upon his barge
a reign that pierced the river large
in rain that left in calling card

a reign so hard


©2014 Knot Song Quarry stephanie pope monsters and bugs mythopoetry.com


mythopoetry notes

1.  quarry, query and quest

quarry
   -definition     1. a person who is the aim of an attack (especially a victim of ridicule or exploitation) by some hostile person or influence 2.  a surface excavation for extracting stone or slate 3. animal hunted or caught for food   
   -synonyms    fair game, pit, prey


query    to question

quest     in mythology and literary affairs the quest figures as both a plot device and a symbol specific to the hero's journey and male body 

2.  Examining the lyrical symbolism in Dylan's song, IT'S A HARD RAIN (Gonna Fall)
http://bob-dylan.org.uk/archives/1550


LYRICS TO IT'S A HARD RAIN

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin'
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin'
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin'
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin'
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Songwriter / BOB DYLAN

3.  An excellent essay by Dennis Patrick Slattery published online June 7, 2016 in "Psychological Perspectives: A Quarterly Journal of Jungian Thought [ISSN: 0033-2925 (Print) 1556-3030 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/upyp20], the essay titled, Seeding the Soul: Musing Our Way Down regards the role our musing life plays.

Here's a teaser from Slattery's essay

To be inspired is to be inspirited; some transcendent presence appears with an energy to stimulate our imaginal involvement with the world. It allows us to cultivate a new form of knowing, a deeper awareness, and a fuller sense of the world’s matter as well as what matters to us in our daily lives.
Something in us is anointed when we are inspired; hospitality helps to encourage such a condition. Being able to submit to energies far beyond our own powers by allowing the Muses to affect us permits us to be moved and shaped by creative impulses. The article ends with a call to a poetic presence in the world, one that allows the Muses to work on us and through us by three actions: to enthuse us, to infuse us, and to reuse whatever in our lives may have been discarded. A rich and individuated life is achieved in large measure through answering the call to create.