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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Aug 21, 2005, 12:50
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>Bones of our wild forefathers, O forgive,...< Good heavens, what a gem Nigel - thank you (and for the background information as well). Are the dots at the end of the poem an indication that there is more to come or that the poem just fades there? I think there are more worthy people than myself to insist that Emmeline's apology is taken back into those deep and miserable wounds but, if no-one else is forthcoming, then by all means I'll take on the task.
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Aug 21, 2005, 13:04
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"Are the dots at the end of the poem an indication that there is more to come or that the poem just fades there?" That's the whole poem, so far as I know. I'm not sure if the dots were hers, but fancy they were - in which case, perhaps she was even more of a visionary, inviting us to add a few lines should the need ever arise! What do you think? It's overwhelmingly tempting isn't it? It could be that Atkinson left the poem and it's still in there, in which case you'd be rebuffed. But what if you asked them to take in an additional, updated apology?! How could they possibly refuse?
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Aug 21, 2005, 13:19
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"Lines suggested by the opening made in Silbury Hill, 1849 and 2007" Bones of our wild forefathers, O forgive, If we now pierce the chambers of your rest, And open your dark pillows to the eye Of the irreverent day! Hark, as we move, Runs no stern whisper down the narrow vault? Flickers no shape across our torchlight pale, With backward beckoning arm? No, all is still... But stay. Who now comes here, cloaked by words And dignity of air? No treasure still is here Nor learning to be taught, save that history's lesson Is never to be learned.
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Aug 21, 2005, 13:29
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>It could be that Atkinson left the poem and it's still in there, in which case you'd be rebuffed. But what if you asked them to take in an additional, updated apology?! How could they possibly refuse?< Fascinating, doubt if they could refuse (especially if the whole idea is brought to the attention of the media). Have about half a dozen Silbury-related poems already but there must be more out there - both written and unwritten. Send 'em in and I'll do the rest.
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Aug 21, 2005, 13:31
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>"Lines suggested by the opening made in Silbury Hill, 1849 and 2007"< A stunning start Nigel - thank you.
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:05
Aug 21, 2005, 18:05
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And on a more ephemeral note, with photobabe's last photo in mind (http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/post/39329)... "For a long time he just sat, watching the shadows as the sun slipped behind Silverberry Hill. And then it seemed that he could hear singing. At first he thought it was the beautiful voice of Princess Red Dawn, drifting across the meadows from the inn. But as he listened, he realized that it was something else, something he had not heard since he had been a boy at Silverberry: it was an Elfin song. The prince sat very still and listened. ...mornings were of silver, and their evenings were of gold, and the berries never fell, from the Silverberry Tree. Their palace was of crystal, and their songs sung of stars, and the berries never fell from the Silverberry Tree. But from the North came a shadow, a dark hand across the land, a hand that broke and changed the Earth, the hand of Morindoor. Their palace then was hidden. Their songs they sang no more, but the berries never fell, from he Silverberry Tree. Until the Prince returns, and turns the hidden key, the berries never fell, from the Silverberry Tree. The berries never fell, from the Silverberry Tree, the berries never fell... The prince listened in fascination as the song faded away. It was a little like the old song he already knew, but there were differences..."* * The Silverberry Tree. ISBN 0-9528169-0-3. pp 25-26.
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:05
Aug 26, 2005, 09:35
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Stonehenge, from "A Game of Henge" by Philip Goss A game of Henge, my masters? The pieces are set. We lost the box with instructions years ago. Do you see Hangman? Or Clock Patience? Building bricks the gods grew out of? Dominoes? It's your move. You're in the ring of the hills, of the stones, of the walls of your skull. You want to go? You want out? Good - that's the game. Whichever way you turn are doors. Choose. Step through, so... And whichever world you stumble into will be different from all the others, only what they might have been, you'll never know.
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:05
Aug 26, 2005, 09:38
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And another, an absolute stonker IMO – ?suggesting Avebury is a pig pen? ;) from A Game of Henge Those stony backs. A scrum around a whisper: Hush. Hiss. Who? Why won't they let you in? No, it's a secret secret won't tell YOU . . . A playground wide as Wessex. Wire barbs the wind whines through. You'd wait a hundred years and couldn't ask. It's secret secret won't tell YOU. Don't dare. You dare yourself to dare and then you do. They turn and . . . What's the game? You are. And it's Sticks And Stones and you're on your own and it's Piggy in the Middle and the piggy is YOU.
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Aug 26, 2005, 10:14
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Yikes Nigel! They're both stunning! Need to let them filter through a while - stunning and a little spooky...
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:06
Aug 31, 2005, 07:43
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Have we included probably the best megalithic related poem ever written, or ever likely to be, Shelly's Ozymandias? I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works ye mighty and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. But also, there's possibly the worst megalithic related poem ever written – penned at the same time at the same place! Apparently, Shelly had a friend called Horace Smith and they had a sonnet-writing session together in 1817 when they decided to each write a sonnet on the same subject. Shelly came up with Ozymandias, whereas Horace…didn't. (Even the title is so bad it deserves immortality) "On a Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below" by Horace Smith In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone, Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws The only shadow that the Desert knows. "I am great Ozymandias," saith the stone, "The King of kings: this mighty city shows The wonders of my hand." The city's gone! Naught but the leg remaining to disclose The sight of that forgotten Babylon. We wonder, and some hunter may express Wonder like ours, when through the wilderness Where London stood, holding the wolf in chase, He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess What wonderful, but unrecorded, race Once dwelt in that annihilated place. "I've finished mine Percy. What do you think of it?" "Very nice Horace" "Have you done one yet Perc?" "Well, yes, there's this modest little effort...."
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