Showing posts with label knot language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label knot language. Show all posts

Monday, November 24, 2014

POSEIDON'S LITTLEST HORSE



















THE OLD FARRIER BLESSING

                ~for Ric Scow Williams


bent nails fathering Christmas
night words, breach and reach

their sky
remade where each

forms a winter pearl
in-formed by lack
in late November meter

angels nail
a foot of winter
air to herds on high

breach
b
reach
  reach

―brr

lack in love(d) remains
pomegranate seed

unit & measure
inform foot care

or night language
sol-making

& in care, something generous
taken inward, reworks


©2014 The Farrier kNOT stephanie pope mythopoetry.com


Tuesday, July 29, 2014

SONORAN STORM

photo credit: Pete Gregoire National Geographic























"STEAL YOUR FACE"*1

           ~for Brian Landis


a boomer hits a bloomer
the giant, monster saguaro
lit aflame
late, late
bloomer

and when a boomer
boomerangs a bloomer
glimpse the face
giving face to "I's"
that steal the face

below water.
Remember
when you look, steel your face
and not the heart killing you
in toward death by fantasy*

©2014 Euterpe's Magic stephanie pope mythopoetry.com


notes

*for the dual role images play in psyche-making see Brian Landis, "The Morning Sun Is More Precious Than Gold Even If The Spaniards Don't See It That Way"  line 36 in Feathered Ladder: Selected Poems Dennis Patrick Slattery, Brian Landis, Fisher King Press il piccolo edition 2014.


*1. "Euterpe is carrier of the striking and electrifying attribute of her father Zeus: the lightning bolt. We find this euterpian magic at work in the electronic age of music; we find it as well in the digital speed with which iTunes informs the world. Looking back to one of America’s iconic musical groups, The Grateful Dead, we find the memorable emblematic image for their 1974 Steal Your Face album cover: the lightning bolt—diagonally etched blue and red across the top of a skeleton skull. Whether or not this was a deliberate homage to Euterpe, she is nonetheless implicitly

represented, as is of course, stormy Zeus, her father." (see FIG. 2) For this quote  see L. Martina Young

FIG. 2 The Grateful Dead album cover, Steal Your Face

                                                                                                 

Monday, July 21, 2014

KNOT LANGUAGE

photo credit: Orange Street Press /
http://sparks.eserver.org/books/odyssey.pdf

























RELEASE



Bright Ithaca, furthest to the west lay low
yet thundered overhead where O
tricky old bow-handler strung the bow

do you feel it
tensions prove a line precisely strung
touching once where absence hung

do you hear it
going about its own release
Bright Ithaca, at peace


2014 Unknot stephanie pope mythopoetry.com
#ohj, bow, Ithaca

Sunday, January 26, 2014

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.


Monday, November 25, 2013

MASTERING CLOTH STITCH

for the cloth stitch in bobbin lace making see
 http://vikingmama.blogspot.com/2010/08/bobbin-lace-beginning-classe-complete.html

Bobbin Lace: Mastering Cloth Stitch


Too died he
taking away your sin, "here"
(mind your [k]not here mind right here)

what's tangled woven by day often reduced to the saved
and gotten away in the low empty vowel of the animal soul?

Too died he the way he is born, cattle lowing in the knot place and something
something like stone rolls away weighted in all meaning, too. This poem

is no instrument for politic or politics. Rather
like a work of female mind, (supposedly weaker) and she
looms here weighted in grief, waiting through a long absence with poetries
in [k]not here mind at work. Ask, too, like she, what is to be the great works
of the spirit of our times, woven by day, were these knots untangled this night
while in the spirit of such depths saved for this finer work.

O rosy and pink the new cloth paned, pinned in the lady working the lady [k]not, "here".

If you find your own way here at times, in space set aside
for human initiative (and in courage) pick up her thread and weave, too. Let the
new shroud mark where death dies pulling deep thread up and back into life; work

what she works
a lyrical contemplation
a political resistance racing the design*
(with necessary tension between, too.)

Let swaddle early
filament of paler pleroma, the glassy light no sun bodies, serpentine
and so coiled, horn the bobbin with [k]not language: horn to bobbin to pane to sk(e)in
is wound (skin not stitched but turned.) Bring something into being here of your own
experience; not you but like itself, saved

having weighted in absence a long time


*see the poem, "Arachne's Back Yard" by Dennis Patrick Slattery in "Feathered Ladder", Fisher King Press, publishing sometime between December, 2013 and Jan-March, 2014.


notes

Penelope

1. Etymology

The name of the faithful wife in the “Odyssey,” from Greek Penelopeia, is related to pene, “thread on the bobbin.”  From penos, meaning “web”, pene is cognate with Latin Pannus, (in English,“pane”) the nominative form of pannum and carries both senses of  “cloth garment” and “glass.”

2. Mythic Image In Art



 PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES
Painting by Rudolph von Deutsch.

An image of patient grief and endurance of absence, a tapestry woven by day. It stands on the frame of life waiting to be unraveled by night. For this image see also Shakespeare's Sonnet CXLVI, "The Death of Death."


You might notice in the painting,like I do, the crescent moon(upper right)proximate the contemplative Penelope waiting.

It is as if what are the great works of spirit that are to be of her own age, grace and shape, shape her a pillar of strength. Power, or "will to power" and strength are two different things.

Not of any age, to paraphrase Joseph Campbell, but of the horn of the moon filling with the light of that day no sun (solar body aka “time” and “times”) can represent, she, then, represents best poetic mind’s reflection as it reflects on power not to be conflated with the uses of one as an instrument of power neither that politic in social orchestrations nor will to power of politics itself.

To say this another way, the image takes up poetic space in a depiction of the real that includes individual experience. It signifies a re-imagining underway, one reflective in human courage and initiative individually but from within a lyrical contemplation’s tension oppositorum in times. Timing and rhythm push the meter along individually by racing the design’s archetypal imprint leaving it’s mark upon the individual soul-making.


3. Sonnet CXLVI

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then.  ~ SHAKESPEARE.