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Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

Auguste Brizeux: Carnac
Apr 05, 2007, 22:15
My, some people work fast! Thanks Michelle :-)

Carnac

Du bois de Ker-Melo jusqu'au Moulin de Teir,
J'ai passe tout le jour sur le bord de la mer,
Respirant sous les pins leur odeur de resine,
Poussant devant mes pieds leur feuille lisse et fine,
Et d'instants en instants, par-dessus Saint Michel,
Lorsqu'eclatait le bruit de la barre d'Enn-Tell,
M'arretant pour entendre: au milieu des bruyeres,
Carnac m'apparaissait avec toutes ses pierres,
Et parmi les men-hir erraient comme autrefois
Les vieux guerriers des clans, leurs pretres et leurs rois.

Auguste Brizeux (1803-1858)

From the woods of Ker-Melo up to the mill of Teir,
I spent all day along the seashore,
Breathing under the pines their resinous smell,
Pushing in front of my feet their fine soft needles,
And from time to time, beyond Saint Michel,
When was bursting the noise of the dam of Enn-Tell
Stopping to listen: amidst the heather,
Carnac with all its stones appeared to me,
and among the menhirs were roaming like long ago
the old clan warriors, their priests and their kings.
Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

Michelle: La pierre qui croule
Apr 06, 2007, 22:00
La pierre qui croule

Petite, a Uchon montais
Dans le bois qui abrite
La pierre qui croule
Devant le mystere tous s'esclaffaient
A qui la ferait basculer.
A plusieurs ils y arrivaient
imperceptiblement.
Ravis de leur exploit.
Pourtant la pierre
jamais son socle ne quittait,
Resistant: triomphante.

De retour
un jour de mes grandes annees
Dans le silence,
En la touchant avec reverence,
J'ai bascule dans un autre monde
Vers sa realite interieure
Tel est le vrai mystere
De ces anciennes pierres.

Michelle


The rocking stone

When small I used to go up to Uchon
In the woods which shelters
The rocking stone
In front of the mystery all used to exclaim
to whom would make it rock.
Several together could do it
Imperceptibly.
Delighted with their feat.
However the stone
would never shift from its base
resisting: triumphant

Having returned
One day now in my later years
In the silence
Touching it with respect,
I went over to another world
Towards its inner reality
Such is the real mystery
Of those ancient stones.
Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

The Ridgeway
Apr 15, 2007, 07:47
Nice little article in yesterday's Guardian about the Ridgeway entitled England then - and now* that finishes with the words from Richard Jefferies, "Though we have been so many thousands of years upon the earth, we do not seem to have done any more as yet than walk along beaten footpaths."

* http://travel.guardian.co.uk/article/2007/apr/14/saturday.green.walkingholidays
Pilgrim
Pilgrim
597 posts

THE MUSEUM OF STONES by Carolyn Forché
Apr 16, 2007, 01:40
From The New Yorker, March 26, 2007. I know it's not European (and not exactly megalithic fi truth be told), but I was moved by it, and thought I'd share it with you and the gestalt mind........

Peace

Pilgrim

X


THE MUSEUM OF STONES

This is your museum of stones, assembled in matchbox and tin,
collected from roadside, culvert, and viaduct,
battlefield, threshing floor, basilica, abattoir,
stones loosened by tanks in the streets
of a city whose earliest map was drawn in ink on linen,
schoolyard stones in the hand of a corpse,
pebble from Apollinaire’s oui,
stone of the mind within us
carried from one silence to another,
stone of cromlech and cairn, schist and shale, hornblende,
agate, marble, millstones, and ruins of choirs and shipyards,
chalk, marl, and mudstone from temples and tombs,
stone from the silvery grass near the scaffold,
stone from the tunnel lined with bones,
lava of the city’s entombment,
chipped from lighthouse, cell wall, scriptorium,
paving stones from the hands of those who rose against the army,
stones where the bells had fallen, where the bridges were blown,
those that had flown through windows and weighted petitions,
feldspar, rose quartz, slate, blueschist, gneiss, and chert,
fragments of an abbey at dusk, sandstone toe
of a Buddha mortared at Bamiyan,
stone from the hill of three crosses and a crypt,
from a chimney where storks cried like human children,
stones newly fallen from stars, a stillness of stones, a heart,
altar and boundary stone, marker and vessel, first cast, lode, and hail,
bridge stones and others to pave and shut up with,
stone apple, stone basil, beech, berry, stone brake,
stone bramble, stone fern, lichen, liverwort, pippin, and root,
concretion of the body, as blind as cold as deaf,
all earth a quarry, all life a labor, stone-faced, stone-drunk
with hope that this assemblage, taken together, would become
a shrine or holy place, an ossuary, immovable and sacred,
like the stone that marked the path of the sun as it entered the human dawn.

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2007/03/26/070326po_poem_forche
tiompan
tiompan
5758 posts

Re: Megalithic Poems:Stonehenge : Alan M. Kent
Apr 16, 2007, 08:36
A fine poem "
tiompan
tiompan
5758 posts

Re: Megalithic Poems:Stonehenge : Alan M. Kent
Apr 16, 2007, 08:39
tiompan wrote:
A fine poem "


oops .should read . A fine poem relating to Stonehenge , "Making Sacrifices " by Alan M kent in "Abraxas Unbound " edited by Paul Newman .
Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

Re: THE MUSEUM OF STONES by Carolyn Forché
Apr 16, 2007, 09:16
Nice one Pilgrim - going to be a pleasure finding an image to accompany that one :-)
Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

Re: Megalithic Poems:Stonehenge : Alan M. Kent
Apr 16, 2007, 09:18
Can't find it tiompan; can you post it up or send it to me?
tiompan
tiompan
5758 posts

Re: Megalithic Poems:Stonehenge : Alan M. Kent
Apr 16, 2007, 09:32
Littlestone wrote:
Can't find it tiompan; can you post it up or send it to me?


Sorry Litlestone it was merely a heads up , I thought it would invoke the copyright devils if I copied it .
Littlestone
Littlestone
5386 posts

Thomas Stokes Salmon: Stonehenge
Apr 19, 2007, 21:15
Here oft, when Evening sheds her twilight ray,
And gilds with fainter beam departing day,
With breathless gaze, and cheek with terror pale,
The lingering shepherd startles at the tale,
How, at deep midnight, by the moon's chill glance,
Unearthly forms prolong the viewless dance;
While on each whisp'ring breeze that murmurs by,
His busied fancy hears the hollow sigh.

From Stonehenge, by Thomas Stokes Salmon, 1823
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