luminous
the day is remarkable
luminous, joyful
so easy, to live
with the taste of colour
love makes me laugh
and, at the last
moment, I open
my eyes.
Paul Eluard, Serie
Blog: Pictures-Books-Reflections
Rublev for Trinity Sunday
Posted on by James Woodward
Rublev
One day, God walked in, pale from the grey steppe,
slit-eyed against the wind, and stopped,
said, Colour me, breathe your blood into my mouth.
I said, Here is the blood of all our people,
these are their bruises, blue and purple,
gold, brown, and pale green was
thy fearful symmetry
Posted on by James Woodward
angel tiger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
When th
You are……….
Posted on by James Woodward
crystal
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
From Billy Collins, Litany.
looking
Posted on by James Woodward
white flower
He said, I am with you always.
That means, when you look for God
That God is the looking itself,
Yes, and the thought of looking
And the you that thinks the thought
Always, already, all of it;
There is no outside.
A white flower grows in the silen
Roses
Posted on by James Woodward
roses
my love in secret
sent this secret to me
give me your self
give me your all
go like a wanderer
take to the road
walk calmly into the flames
burn without burning
burn, burn, as the
fire becomes roses
my blasphemies
are what god is
watch the glow of g
Memories
Posted on by James Woodward
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient h
Baddesley Clinton
Posted on by James Woodward
Baddesley Clinton , is a moated manor house, located just north of Warwick ; the house was probably established during the 13th century when large areas of the Forest of Arden were cleared and eventually converted to farmland. The site is a Scheduled Ancient Monument and the
Remembering Maya Angelou
Posted on by James Woodward
I started my blogging life in 2008 partly as a way of capturing my experience of a sabbatical in America. In the spring of that year I spent a month in Washington DC followed by three months in Chicago. It was a rejuvenating and very significant time. I managed to get o
A Tree….
Posted on by James Woodward
a tree telling of Orpheus
he spoke, and as no tree listens I listened, and language
came into my roots out of the earth, into my bark
out of the air, into the pores of my greenest shoots
gently as dew and there was no word he sang but I knew its meaning.
He tol
the costs of trying to avoid the inevitable
Posted on by James Woodward
From todays Church Times
James Woodward on the costs of trying to avoid the inevitable
Should We Live Forever? The ethical ambiguities of aging
Gilbert Meilaender
Eerdmans £11.99
HUMAN beings generally desire life. Most of us are grateful for the good gift that is our l
Tredegar House
Posted on by James Woodward
Tredegar House is a 17th-century Charles II country house mansion in the city of Newport that for over five hundred years was home to the Morgan family, later Lords Tredegar; one of the most powerful and influential families in the area. Described as "The grandest and most exub
her great shining
Posted on by James Woodward
The moon is a sow
and grunts in my throat
Her great shining shines through me
so the mud of my hollow gleams
and breaks in silver bubbles
She is a sow
and I a pig and a poet
When she opens her white
lips to devour me I bite back
and laughter rocks the moon.
&nb
For the small things – Thankfulness?
Posted on by James Woodward
Praises
I praise those things I always take for granted:-
The tap my sister turns on for my bath
Every time I stay, the safety pin –
And who invented it? I do not know –
The comb, the piece of soap, a shoe, its shine,
The name tape and the string, a lea
Words?
Posted on by James Woodward
Oranges
Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they ca
dahlia
Posted on by James Woodward
They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia,
Opulent, flaunting.
Round gold
Flung out of a pale green stalk.
Round, ripe gold
Of maturity,
Meticulously frilled and flaming,
A fire-ball of proclamation.
From Amy Lowell, Autumn
petals
Posted on by James Woodward
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as finge
Let us return?
Posted on by James Woodward
ultimate blue
Let us return to imperfection's school.
No longer wandering after Plato's ghost,
Seeking the garden where all fruit is flawless,
We must at last renounce that ultimate blue
And take a walk in other kinds of weather.
From Adrienne Rich, Ste
Image of the week : Black on Maroon by Rothko
Posted on by James Woodward
This painting comes from one of three series of canvases painted by Rothko in 1958-9 in response to a commission for murals for the small dining room of the Four Seasons Restaurant in New York. The Four Seasons, one of the smartest restaurants in the city, is in the Seagram Bui