Littlestone
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Re: Ancient Monuments
Jan 11, 2008, 16:03
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Nailing it on the head, sent an email to Professor Hooker this morning, this is what I got back.....
"The quotation you ask about is from John Ormond's poem 'Ancient Monuments'. I don't have the Ormond poem with me, but my recollection is that it is dedicated to Alexander Thom. That would account for it being ascribed to Thom on a megalithic forum. It is also just possible that Ormond quotes a phrase or a few words from Thom in the poem. But the verses are certainly from Ormond's poem."
Excellent moss (and tiompan for first mentioning it)! Good to get that sorted, and I'll make the necessary corrections over the weekend.
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gjrk
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Re: Faintly, and as if from a great distance
Jan 12, 2008, 00:21
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'gjrk' is fine, thanks - Great site/blogspot and proud to be a small part of it.
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Littlestone
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Re: Ancient Monuments
Jan 12, 2008, 16:38
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Done, at http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/forum/?thread=23046
See also http://megalithicpoems.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html This link doesn't always work - if it doesn't it's in the October 2005 Archives at http://megalithicpoems.blogspot.com/
Thanks again to moss and tiompan for getting this sorted.
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gjrk
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Edited Jan 13, 2008, 01:48
Re: Megalithic Poems
Jan 13, 2008, 01:36
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Ok, I'm not so sure about this because it turned out a bit bleaker than I expected it would. Its about the foundation deposit at a stone circle in County Cork (not sounding promising!) and manages to squeeze in the faint/distance theme.
Lettergorman South.
Beal's eye planting with a gaze and reaping with a glance.
From the breast of a lover, into his breath I went spinning.
Twisting, turning and entranced, unmoving onto this.
From the top of the dog's hill, into his stop I sit staring.
Face my brothers to the mountains and my sister to the stream.
Mad minds melted by the years, pouring their grief into raving.
While the whispers of my kinfolk, hissed as this dance moved the sun,
are now faint in the distance, and taunt this terrible waiting.
Time for my check-up I think...
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Littlestone
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Edited Jan 13, 2008, 10:02
gjrk: Lettergorman South
Jan 13, 2008, 07:15
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Lettergorman South.
Beal's eye planting with a gaze and reaping with a glance.
From the breast of a lover, into his breath I went spinning.
Twisting, turning and entranced, unmoving onto this.
From the top of the dog's hill, into his stop I sit staring.
Face my brothers to the mountains and my sister to the stream.
Mad minds melted by the years, pouring their grief into raving.
While the whispers of my kinfolk, hissed as this dance moved the sun,
are now faint in the distance, and taunt this terrible waiting.
That's excellent gjrk! (I knew you were up for it :-) If you've an image to go with it I'll put it on the blog. Please keep 'em coming.
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gjrk
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Re: gjrk: Lettergorman South
Jan 13, 2008, 11:38
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Thanks for your kind words. It was a bit like jumping with my eyes closed - I didn't know how I was going to land.
This picture should be suitable I think:
http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/post/65053/lettergorman_south.html?stream=date
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Littlestone
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Edited Jan 13, 2008, 16:50
Re: gjrk: Lettergorman South
Jan 13, 2008, 16:41
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Thanks, will let you know when it's up on the blog.
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Mike Pitts
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Re: Philip Goss: Stonehenge
Jan 15, 2008, 20:35
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The poet is Philip Gross. It's a great thing, i still have a few copies of the book – A Game of Stones – if anyone would like one, [email protected]
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Littlestone
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Re: gjrk: Lettergorman South
Jan 16, 2008, 16:31
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Hi gjrk.
Just to let you know that your poem and photo are now up on http://megalithicpoems.blogspot.com/
Thanks again.
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gjrk
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Double you be Yeats
Jan 18, 2008, 01:03
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Hi Littlestone,
I've searched my way down and I don't think that you have this couple. I may have missed them in the crowd though, so my apologies if that's the case:
'In the Seven Woods' (August 1902)
I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented, for I know that Quiet
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-Lee.
Over a century old and it could have just been written.
Lines 13 to 30 from 'The Wanderings of Oisin' (1889)
Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds,
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-mounds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found on the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,
But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.
Slightly running past the antiquarian content there, but Niamh's enchantment is worth the extra lines it works from! Yeats put it quite bluntly, looking back in 'The Circus Animals' Desertion':
"But what cared I that set him on to ride,
I, starved for the bosom of his fairy bride."
P.S. Having read Nigel Swift's Ozymandias contribution, I thought of this, read straight rather than as an image:
V, lines 1 to 5, 'Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen'
Come let us mock at the great
That had such burdens on the mind
And toiled so hard and late
To leave some monument behind,
Nor thought of the levelling wind.
g
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