British poet Philip Larkin (1922-1985) was a complicated man, like many poets. But unlike most of them these days, he was politically of the right, at least in some respects. Larkin wrote in forms, which is inherently conservative. But his … Continue reading →
The poet Yeats often wrote about how dreadful old age was, especially its physical manifestations. In the poem “Among School Children“, he describes himself as having looked pretty nifty in youth and terrible at sixty: And I though never of … Continue reading →
[NOTE: In one of yesterday’s posts I reproduced some photos of people when young alongside the very same people considerably older. Then I offered—without any commentary—one of my favorite poems, “Spring and Fall: To a Young Child” by Gerard Manley … Continue reading →
Sometimes I don’t like to confront the fact of aging. Sometimes it’s okay with me (not that anyone’s asking). These before and after photos—a person young, the same person older, in the very same pose and similar clothing—are heartbreaking, heartwarming, … Continue reading →
Try this for size (hat tip: Gerard Vanderleun at American Digest). The video includes a lot of new-agey political stuff, but it’s the pictures that are wonderful: OVERVIEW from Planetary Collective on Vimeo. Here’s an early post of mine on … Continue reading →
[NOTE: I thought this post, first published here in November of 2010, could bear repeating. I had forgotten the Jarrett quote with which it begins. But on looking at it again, it seems even more chilling than ever—and it was … Continue reading →
I was introduced to Gregory Corso’s poem “Marriage” by a boyfriend long ago, and it stuck in my mind because it was one of the few poems I’ve ever read that is genuinely funny; more a comedy monologue than a … Continue reading →
On one of the recent art threads, commenter “Smock Puppet” offered a link to a sculpture by Rodin entitled “She who Used to Be the Beautiful Heaulmiere”: The sculpture ‘Celle qui fut la belle heaulmié¨re’ is also known as ‘The … Continue reading →
[NOTE: This small poetic effort of mine has become somewhat of a holiday tradition. So here (with a few words changed for the sake of meter) it comes again—just like the holiday itself. Merry Christmas Eve!] ‘TWAS THE BLOGGER’S NIGHT … Continue reading →
In my mental image of poet Emily Dickinson, dog ownership was never part of the picture. I imagined her dressed all in flowing white, flitting about the upstairs rooms of her family’s spacious Amherst home, sitting down to write amazing … Continue reading →
I’ve been thinking about this poem lately. It’s really a bleak work (and very modern, despite the year it was written, which was probably around 1851). The subject is the loss of faith. Not a personal loss of faith, but … Continue reading →
Five guys at the lake decide to recreate a photograph of themselves over and over, showing the passage of time [hat tip: Althouse].
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