Why I often find myself at such cross-purposes with the modern world:
I have been a converted Pagan living among apostate Puritans.
- CS Lewis
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
295. Ballad of the Goodly Fere
By Ezra Pound
Simon Zelotes speaketh it somewhile after the Crucifixion.
HA’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all
For the priests and the gallows tree?
Aye lover he was of brawny men,
O’ ships and the open sea.
When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man 5
His smile was good to see,
“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.
Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears
And the scorn of his laugh rang free, 10
“Why took ye not me when I walked about
Alone in the town?” says he.
Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wine
When we last made company.
No capon priest was the Goodly Fere, 15
But a man o’ men was he.
I ha’ seen him drive a hundred men
Wi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,
That they took the high and holy house
For their pawn and treasury. 20
They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,
Though they write it cunningly;
No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere
But aye loved the open sea.
If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly Fere 25
They are fools to the last degree.
“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Though I go to the gallows tree.”
“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,
And wake the dead,” says he. 30
“Ye shall see one thing to master all:
’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”
A son of God was the Goodly Fere
That bade us his brothers be.
I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men. 35
I have seen him upon the tree.
He cried no cry when they drave the nails
And the blood gushed hot and free.
The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,
But never a cry cried he. 40
I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men
On the hills o’ Galilee.
They whined as he walked out calm between,
Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.
Like the sea that brooks no voyaging, 45
With the winds unleashed and free,
Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret
Wi’ twey words spoke suddently.
A master of men was the Goodly Fere,
A mate of the wind and sea. 50
If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere
They are fools eternally.
I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-comb
Sin’ they nailed him to the tree.
Simon Zelotes speaketh it somewhile after the Crucifixion.
HA’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all
For the priests and the gallows tree?
Aye lover he was of brawny men,
O’ ships and the open sea.
When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man 5
His smile was good to see,
“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.
Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears
And the scorn of his laugh rang free, 10
“Why took ye not me when I walked about
Alone in the town?” says he.
Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wine
When we last made company.
No capon priest was the Goodly Fere, 15
But a man o’ men was he.
I ha’ seen him drive a hundred men
Wi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,
That they took the high and holy house
For their pawn and treasury. 20
They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,
Though they write it cunningly;
No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere
But aye loved the open sea.
If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly Fere 25
They are fools to the last degree.
“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Though I go to the gallows tree.”
“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,
And wake the dead,” says he. 30
“Ye shall see one thing to master all:
’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”
A son of God was the Goodly Fere
That bade us his brothers be.
I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men. 35
I have seen him upon the tree.
He cried no cry when they drave the nails
And the blood gushed hot and free.
The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,
But never a cry cried he. 40
I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men
On the hills o’ Galilee.
They whined as he walked out calm between,
Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.
Like the sea that brooks no voyaging, 45
With the winds unleashed and free,
Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret
Wi’ twey words spoke suddently.
A master of men was the Goodly Fere,
A mate of the wind and sea. 50
If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere
They are fools eternally.
I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-comb
Sin’ they nailed him to the tree.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Journey by Train
by May Sarton
Stretched across counties, countries, the train
Rushes faster than memory through the rain.
The rise of each hill is a musical phrase.
Listen to the rhythm of space, how it lies,
How it rolls, how it reaches, what unwinding relays
Of wood and meadow where the red cows graze
Come back again and again to closed eyes—
That garden, that pink farm, that village steeple,
And here and there the solitary people
Who stand arrested when express trains pass,
That stillness of an orchard in deep grass.
Yet landscapes flow like this toward a place,
A point in time and memory's own face.
So when the clamor stops, we really climb
Down to the earth, closing the curve of time,
Meeting those we have left, to those we meet
Bringing our whole life that has moved so fast,
And now is gathered up and here at last,
To unroll like a ribbon at their feet.
Stretched across counties, countries, the train
Rushes faster than memory through the rain.
The rise of each hill is a musical phrase.
Listen to the rhythm of space, how it lies,
How it rolls, how it reaches, what unwinding relays
Of wood and meadow where the red cows graze
Come back again and again to closed eyes—
That garden, that pink farm, that village steeple,
And here and there the solitary people
Who stand arrested when express trains pass,
That stillness of an orchard in deep grass.
Yet landscapes flow like this toward a place,
A point in time and memory's own face.
So when the clamor stops, we really climb
Down to the earth, closing the curve of time,
Meeting those we have left, to those we meet
Bringing our whole life that has moved so fast,
And now is gathered up and here at last,
To unroll like a ribbon at their feet.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Poem
by Frank O'Hara
Let's take a walk, you
and I in spite of the
weather if it rains hard
on our toes
we'll stroll like poodles
and be washed down a
gigantic scenic gutter
that will be
exciting! voyages are not
all like this you just put
your toes together then
maybe blood
will get meaning and a trick
become slight in our keeping
before we sail the open sea it's
possible—
And the landscape will do
us some strange favor when
we look back at each other
anxiously
Let's take a walk, you
and I in spite of the
weather if it rains hard
on our toes
we'll stroll like poodles
and be washed down a
gigantic scenic gutter
that will be
exciting! voyages are not
all like this you just put
your toes together then
maybe blood
will get meaning and a trick
become slight in our keeping
before we sail the open sea it's
possible—
And the landscape will do
us some strange favor when
we look back at each other
anxiously
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Quote of the Day
We cannot lose external goods because we never really had them. The beauty of fields or gems is a real good, but it is theirs, not ours.
- CS Lewis
- CS Lewis
Pretty Halcyon Days
by Ogden Nash
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned.
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done.
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
How pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the viking and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad and the shark;
If it's windy they sink;
If it isn't, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.
How pleasant the salt anaesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned.
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done.
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
How pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the viking and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad and the shark;
If it's windy they sink;
If it isn't, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.
How pleasant the salt anaesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
For What Binds Us
by Jane Hirshfield
There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down—
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest—
And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.
There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down—
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest—
And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Serious
by James Fenton
Awake, alert,
Suddenly serious in love,
You're a surprise.
I've known you long enough —
Now I can hardly meet your eyes.
It's not that I'm
Embarrassed or ashamed.
You've changed the rules
The way I'd hoped they'd change Before I thought: hopes are for fools.
Let me walk with you.
I've got the newspapers to fetch.
I think you know
I think you have the edge
But I feel cheerful even so.
That's why I laughed.
That's why I went and kicked that stone.
I'm serious!
That's why I cartwheeled home.
This should mean something. Yes, it does.
Awake, alert,
Suddenly serious in love,
You're a surprise.
I've known you long enough —
Now I can hardly meet your eyes.
It's not that I'm
Embarrassed or ashamed.
You've changed the rules
The way I'd hoped they'd change Before I thought: hopes are for fools.
Let me walk with you.
I've got the newspapers to fetch.
I think you know
I think you have the edge
But I feel cheerful even so.
That's why I laughed.
That's why I went and kicked that stone.
I'm serious!
That's why I cartwheeled home.
This should mean something. Yes, it does.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Salt and Vinegar Chicken
Servings: 4
Prep Time: 1 hour 15 mins
Cook Time: 45 mins
Cook Time: 45 mins
|
2 cups cider vinegar |
| 1 cup vegetable oil |
| 1 egg, lightly beaten |
| 3 teaspoons salt |
| 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning |
| 8 boneless chicken thighs , with skin |
Yield: 1
- In a large bowl, mix the cider vinegar, vegetable oil, egg, salt,
and poultry seasoning. Place the chicken thighs in the bowl, cover, and
marinate in the refrigerator at least 1 hour.- Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
- Arrange the chicken thighs in a baking dish, and cover with about 1/4 of the marinade mixture.
- Bake chicken 30 minutes in the preheated oven. Drain off the marinade so that the chicken skin will become crisp (a baster works well for extracting the marinade).
- Continue baking 15 minutes, or until chicken is no longer pink and juices run clear.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Sonnet XVIII
by Pablo Neruda
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly, without complexities or pride;
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep and dream.
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly, without complexities or pride;
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep and dream.
Quote of the Day
“In prosperity, our friends know us. In adversity, we know our friends”
― G.K. Chesterton
― G.K. Chesterton
Quote of the Day
I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
- Martin Luther King Jr.
- Martin Luther King Jr.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Quote of the Day
“The only place in all of the world where you can escape the dangers of love is hell.”
― C.S. Lewis
― C.S. Lewis
Friday, April 5, 2013
Baked French Fries
Servings: 4
Prep Time: 10 mins
Cook Time: 40 mins
Cook Time: 40 mins
| cooking spray |
| 6 yukon gold potatoes , cut into thick fries |
| 1 tablespoon white sugar |
| 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil |
| 1 teaspoon garlic powder, or more to taste |
| 1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste |
| 1 teaspoon ground black pepper, or more to taste |
Yield: 1
- Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C). - Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil; spray with cooking spray.
- Place sliced potatoes in a colander; sprinkle sugar over potatoes. Set aside until liquid is released from potatoes, 20 to 30 minutes. Drain liquid and dry potatoes well.
- Mix potato slices, olive oil, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper in a resealable bag until evenly coated.
- Spread coated potato slices in a single layer, leaving space around each potato, on the prepared baking sheet. Bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes; flip fries and continue baking until crisp and browned, about 20 more minutes.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Quote of the Day
The masculine heart needs a place where nothing is prefabricated, modular, nonfat, zip locked, franchised, on-line, microwavable. Where there are no deadlines, cell phones or committee meetings. Where there is room for the soul. Where, finally, the geography around us corresponds to the geography of our heart.
- John Eldredge in Wild at Heart
- John Eldredge in Wild at Heart
Bacon Cheddar Patty Cakes
Servings: 8
Prep Time: 10 mins
Cook Time: 20 mins
Cook Time: 20 mins
|
3 slices bacon cooked, crumbled |
| 4 cups cold leftover mashed potatoes |
| 2 eggs |
| 1 teaspoon onion powder |
| 1/2 teaspoon salt |
| 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper |
| 1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese |
Yield: 1
*Your mashed potatoes must be very thick for this to work properly
*Reserve Bacon Drippings
*Seasoning is to taste depending on how your seasoned your mashed potatoes
-------------------------------------
- Mix the mashed potatoes, eggs, onion powder, salt, and black pepper together in a bowl; stir in the crumbled bacon and Cheddar cheese. Form the mixture into 8 patties.
- Heat the bacon drippings over medium heat, and pan-fry the patties in the drippings until crisp on each side, about 4 minutes per side.
Quote of the Day
Something of God... flows into us from the blue of the sky, the taste of honey, the delicious embrace of water... even from sleep itself.
- CS Lewis
- CS Lewis
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Cheddar Biscuits
Servings: 8
Prep Time: 15 mins
Cook Time: 20 mins
Cook Time: 20 mins
|
2 cups buttermilk biscuit baking mix |
| 1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese |
| 2/3 cup milk |
| 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder |
| 2 tablespoons margarine, melted |
| 2 teaspoons dried parsley |
| 1 teaspoon garlic salt |
Yield: 1
- Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (205 degrees C). - Grease a cookie sheet, or line with parchment paper.
- In a large bowl, combine baking mix, Cheddar cheese, and garlic powder. Stir in milk.
- Drop batter by heaping tablespoonfuls onto prepared cookie sheet.
- Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes.
- Brush biscuits with melted margarine, and sprinkle with parsley and garlic salt. Bake for 5-10 more minutes, or until lightly browned on the bottom.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Breathe
by Christopher Williams
Wrapped in the loneliness pretending to be strong
Words comfort as much as a winter's day is long
Alone on the edge as proof that everything I thought I knew
Has suddenly fallen out of view...out of view...I heard a voice say
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
When silence is surrendered by crossing bridges burned
And your breath is cut shorter by swimming tides that coldly turn
When doubts sink deep and then rise stirring the depths where passions lie
Breaking the surface of your disguise...just look into your eyes
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
Find that which gives you breath and grants you more to give
Because life ends not in death but with what dies inside while we live
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
Wrapped in the loneliness pretending to be strong
Words comfort as much as a winter's day is long
Alone on the edge as proof that everything I thought I knew
Has suddenly fallen out of view...out of view...I heard a voice say
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
When silence is surrendered by crossing bridges burned
And your breath is cut shorter by swimming tides that coldly turn
When doubts sink deep and then rise stirring the depths where passions lie
Breaking the surface of your disguise...just look into your eyes
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
Find that which gives you breath and grants you more to give
Because life ends not in death but with what dies inside while we live
"Walk to the water.
Rest on the shore
Let my love spill into yours
Walk to the water
Fall on your knees
Quench your restless soul
By the water and breathe"
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