smile
Then new events said to me,
‘Don’t move. A sublime generosity is
coming towards you.’
You are the fountain of the sun’s light.
I am a willow shadow on the ground.
You make my raggedness silky.
The soul at dawn is like darkened water
that slowly begins
Blog: Pictures-Books-Reflections
Vacation Suprises (5) Llanyblodwel Church
Posted on by James Woodward
On the road out of Oswestry travelling up the Tanant valley you will find a small village, Llanyblodwel, and tucked away the church of St Michael and the Archangel. It is beautifully kept and open each day for visitors. The church is believed to have been erected after the arriva
Vacation Surprises (4) Aberystwyth
Posted on by James Woodward
Aberystwyth is the principal holiday resort and administrative centre of the west coast of Wales. It is also home to the University of Wales Aberystwyth and the National Library. This excursion was especially worth the long journey across the hills through the rain to be greeted
Vacation Suprises (3) Richard Herbert
Posted on by James Woodward
A bright day took the car South and West towards Montgomery and the glad open door of St Nicholas Parish Church built in the early 13th century.
You can see the effect of the blazing sun on this Welsh Shropshire border town!
The most conspicuous object in the south transept
Vacation Suprises (2) Blackberries
Posted on by James Woodward
Late August, given heavy rain and sunFor a full week, the blackberries would ripen.At first, just one, a glossy purple clotAmong others, red, green, hard as a knot.You ate that first one and its flesh was sweetLike thickened wine: summer's blood was in itLeaving stains upon the t
Vacation Surprises : (1) Craigie Aitchison in Glass
Posted on by James Woodward
I travelled up to London during my summer holiday to attend a wonderful celebration of marriage of Robin and Sezgi Amos at St Mary the Bolton's in Chelsea. It was a sunny day and I managed to arrive at the church early to catch up with friends. As I wandered around the church
close enough
Posted on by James Woodward
close enough
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, Wor
the choir and music
Posted on by James Woodward
the choir and music
Silence is a great blue bell
Swinging and ringing, tinkling and singing,
In measure's pleasure, and in the supple symmetry
of the soaring of the immense intense wings
glinting against
All the blue radiance above us and within us, hidden
Save for t
Love …………..
Posted on by James Woodward
in a glass darkly
Though I spake with the tongues of men and angels and yet had no love, I were even as sounding brass: or as tinkling cymbal.
And though I could prophesy and understood all secrets and all knowledge: yea if I had all faith so that I could move mountains out
intricate
Posted on by James Woodward
intricate
Intricate and untraceable
weaving and interweaving,
dark strand with light:
designed, beyond
all spiderly contrivance,
to link, not to entrap:
elation, grief, joy, contrition, entwined;
shaking, changing,
forever
forming,
transforming:
all praise,
a
roses in sunlight
Posted on by James Woodward
roses in sunlight
Our sense of these things changes and they change,
Not as in metaphor, but in our sense
Of them. So sense exceeds all metaphor.
It exceeds the heavy changes of the light.
It is like a flow of meanings with no speech
And of as many meanings as of me
Peter Lanyon
Posted on by James Woodward
I love surprising discoveries. As a very enjoyable lunch last week in a London restaurant in Notting Hill this particular picture captured my imagination. I was sitting opposite it and amazed at its rhythmic and soothing effect. Painted by a Cornishman, influenced by American abs
Peter Lanyon
Posted on by James Woodward
I love surprising discoveries. As a very enjoyable lunch last week in a London restaurant in Notting Hill this particular picture captured my imagination. I was sitting opposite it and amazed at its rhythmic and soothing effect. Painted by a Cornishman, influenced by American abs
discovery poetry?
Posted on by James Woodward
wildflower
Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods. You don't see
its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way
its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
th
wrought flower
Posted on by James Woodward
wrought flower
I believe the earth
exists, and
in each minim mote
of its dust the holy
glow of thy candle.
Thou
unknown I know,
thou spirit,
giver,
lover of making, of the
wrought letter,
wrought flower,
iron, deed, dream
the ordinary glow
of common dust in an
Love, thou art high
Posted on by James Woodward
oddity
Love, thou are deep:
I cannot cross thee.
But, were there Two
Instead of One --
Rower, and Yacht -- some sovereign Summer --
Who knows, but we'd reach the Sun?
Love, thou are Veiled:
A few behold thee,
Smile, and alter, and prattle, and die.
Bliss were
Psalms Redux & Prayers for the Day by Carla Grosch-Miller
Posted on by James Woodward
Here is a wonderful book to look out for from a skilled and humane theologian and my commendation for my friend Carla
Psalms Redux & Prayers for the Day by Carla Grosch-Miller
We human beings become so easily distracted and even bored with the familiar. Th
the golden moon
Posted on by James Woodward
blue sky and the golden moon
The moon is a curving flower of gold,
The sky is still and blue;
The moon was made for the sky to hold,
And I for you.
The moon is a flower without a stem,
The sky is luminous;
Eternity was made for them,
To-night for us.
Sara Teasdal
Charity and Freeedom
Posted on by James Woodward
Charity and freedom are inseparable. Love must be free. Only charity is perfectly free. Love is loved for itself, not determined by anything else outside itself.
It is not drawn by the satisfaction of anything less than itself. Only in charity, that is disinterested lo
torso
Posted on by James Woodward
torso
We cannot know the indescribable face
Where the eyes like apples ripened. Even so,
His torso has a candelabra's glow,
His gaze, contained as in a mirror's grace,
Shines within it. Otherwise his breast
Would not be dazzling. Nor would you recognize
The smile th