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What do you find beautiful?
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I Am Vertical
By Sylvia Plath
But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them --
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
Infinite
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A Neurotic wrote: »
Definitely. Love the man.
This song.
And the sky. A clear night sky is absolutely beautiful.0 -
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Sylvia Plath - Elm
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root;
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.
Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?
Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it.
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.
All night I shall gallup thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.
Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
This is rain now, the big hush.
And this is the fruit of it: tin white, like arsenic.
I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand,a hand of wires.
Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.
The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radience scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
I let her go. I let her go
Diminshed and flat, as after radical surgery.
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.
I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrevables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches?--
Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.0 -
Moderators, Science, Health & Environment Moderators, Social & Fun Moderators, Society & Culture Moderators Posts: 60,104 Mod ✭✭✭✭
Join Date:Posts: 59277
poems yay! I prefer dickenson over plath though!
and my fav:
'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
-- Walter de la Mare0 -
I love Plath
"On this bald hill the new year hones its edge
Faceless and pale as china
The round sky goes on minding its business
Your absence is inconspicuous
Nobody can tell what I lack."
Parliament Hill Fields, one of my favourite poems ever.0 -
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I have a bit of a thing for historical paintings, they really get me going.
Heres a taste of my favourites, sorry the are such a small size, didn't want to post them in their full sized glory or boards would prolly explode..
Heres a link to my favourite one as it really needs to be seen in its fully glory.0 -
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What's the story behind the third one? Those eyes are fantastic!I have a bit of a thing for historical paintings, they really get me going.
Heres a taste of my favourites, sorry the are such a small size, didn't want to post them in their full sized glory or boards would prolly explode..
<PICTURE>
EDIT: Never mind then!
MY favourite painting is "Flaming June" by Lord Frederic Leighton. I saw it last year in the Prado in Madrid, it's much more spectacular in real life
and while I'm at it, one of the most beautiful poems I know (my knowledge of poetry is limited to my LC course and 16th cent spanish poetry, which sucks):
Derek Mahon
Antarctica
‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’
The others nod, pretending not to know.
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
He leaves them reading and begins to climb,
Goading his ghost into the howling snow;
He is just going outside and may be some time.
The tent recedes beneath its crust of rime
And frostbite is replaced by vertigo:
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
Need we consider it some sort of crime,
This numb self-sacrifice of the weakest? No,
He is just going outside and may be some time
In fact, for ever. Solitary enzyme,
Though the night yield no glimmer there will glow,
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
it's about Capt. Lawrence Oates and the Terra Nova expedition.0 -
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Oh, I forgot Sigur Rós. Their stuff is inredibly beautiful
This is just a perfect song.
I'll have to admit,the intro to that song nearly brought me to tears:o
Before this I only knew it as "that song on some bbc ads" but when you listen to it properly..I love it!
Walking home on the back lanes when the suns out a bit and I can see all the lakes..and see the cars from the main road going by but not hearing a sound,makes me so relaxed:)0 -
The Mandelbrot Set.
(Fractals in general are just beautiful).
For those of you who don't know what fractals are, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fractals0 -
Deleted User wrote: »
The Mandelbrot Set.
(Fractals in general are just beautiful).
For those of you who don't know what fractals are, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fractals
Quite a fan of the Sierpinski triangle myself
Link to image since image was way too big0 -
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D4RK ONION wrote: »Hey, that was like my first post in C&H! I made that tiger!
Really!? Excellent! I found it saved on my laptop yesterday and nearly split myself laughing. When it's a small thumbnail, the top hat is a lot more subtle, and therefore more hilarious when you see it.
Nice work! 0 -
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"What's so easy in the evening, by the morning's such a drag." 0 -
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSgiXGELjbc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2xqBP3LSa8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4L_DQKCDgeM![[Deleted User]](/applications/dashboard/design/images/defaulticon.png)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLdp2OSFEys
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwFS69nA-1w
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aZh261KZWI
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