In memory of my dad

I am posting this because last Sunday would have been Dad's 63rd birthday. He died three years ago (on Sept 1st) I loved him very very much and miss him horribly always, especially on the birthday we shared.

This poem may look difficult at first but just read it out loud; it flows so naturally. I love the feeling of this poem.

______________________________

my father moved through dooms of love

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)

under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

e.e.cummings

Holidays and general ramblings

Off to Oxford at the weekend to see family and chill for a couple of days. Then heading to The Gower Penninsula for some rock pooling, hiking, surfing and camping action. I just keep fantasising about catching fish and BBQing them on the beach!
Then heading to The Green Man Festival at Glanusk Park in Brecon Beacons. Looking forward to seeing Joanna Newson amongst others.
I was hoping to get into London on Saturday to see In Celebration but I just can't abandon the family having travelled down there to specifically see them. Sorry Orlando! To be honest I reckon a Saturday afternoon matinee will be packed with squealers though and I would just feel embarrassed and probably irritated.
Viggo is due to be awarded the Golden Boot on Saturday (can't help but feel that sounds less than complimentary) I'm pleased for him.
There's also news of him possibly attending the San Sebastien Film Festival with David C in September and possibly Danish Film Festival. Not to mention TIFF in September and London in October... So lots of Vig spotting opps up and coming (Always a good thing)
I am really looking forward to seeing EP and especially can't wait to "Good" - there are some pics over at Viggo-Works (including Viggo in Nazi Officers' get up- which gives you pause) I imagine this will be a fascinating piece of work. Wonder when it's slated for release?
Anyway.. I'll be back on 21st Aug and hopefully there'll be some news about Orlando's future projects (lately he's been linked to Angels and Demons and Pompeii- who knows though) and hopefully some pics of Vig receiving his golden boot!

Karen Dalton- Something on your mind! Beautiful song/poem

Yesterday anyway you made it was just fine,
So you turned your days into night-time,
Didn’t you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it

Let these times show you that you’re breaking up the lines,
Leaving all your dreams too far behind,
Didn’t you see, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind.

Maybe another day you’ll want to feel another way,
you can’t stop crying,
You haven’t got a thing to say,
Feel you want to run away
There’s no use trying, anyway.

I’ve seen the writing on the wall,
Who cannot maintain will always fall,
Well, you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying.

And something’s on your mind, isn’t it
Tell the truth now, isn’t it
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it


This is a fantastic song- and if you can get the Karen Dalton versh- amazing!
I play it and play and playit in my car- louder and louder to cover my increasingly confident - yet ultimately still outta tune singing!
For some reason I find this song so heart breaking so compassionate and beautiful.

I know noone visits my boring little blog....
BUT if you DO happen by....

Check K Dalton out- this song at least!!!

Today's Poem- Church Going- Philip Larkin

Church Going


Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside,
letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats, and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,
Move forward, run my hand around the font.
From where I stand, the roof looks almost new-
Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don't.
Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce
"Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant.
The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.

Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,
And always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,
When churches fall completely out of use
What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep
A few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their parchment, plate, and pyx in locked cases,
And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?

Or, after dark, will dubious women come
To make their children touch a particular stone;
Pick simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised night see walking a dead one?
Power of some sort or other will go on
In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But superstition, like belief, must die,
And what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,

A shape less recognizable each week,
A purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will be the last, the very last, to seek
This place for what it was; one of the crew
That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?
Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or will he be my representative,

Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground
Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt
So long and equably what since is found
Only in separation ?marriage, and birth,
And death, and thoughts of these ?for whom was built
This special shell? For, though I've no idea
What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,
It pleases me to stand in silence here;

A serious house on serious earth it is,
In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,
Are recognised, and robed as destinies.
And that much never can be obsolete,
Since someone will forever be surprising
A hunger in himself to be more serious,
And gravitating with it to this ground,
Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If only that so many dead lie round


Philip Larkin

'Fari Park

Went with my amazing 4 year old neice to the ' Fari Park saw amongst other amazing aminals some Wobblies (small Kangaroos) from Australia- where John and Sarah bit not Marcie (the dog) went!)

Too cute! BUT I find it amazing how absolutley excited Your Truly was about the whole experience.. Ultimately don't take your ababies to the Safari Park- wait til thy're about 20 and then have a family day out! I never realised when 5 years old how bloody mad, crazy and beautiful were elephants, rhinos, baboons, girraphs.... Mad creatures mad crazy daliesque creatures which share the planet and rely on us (funny looking naked apes) to save it for them!

Poem for today

Lost Love

HIS eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence--drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.

-Robert Graves

Liv Tyler...

...is absolutely the most honestly, unaffectedly, beautiful film actress I ever saw. I just think she's the bees knees.

I want to post a pic- but realise I haven't got one of the lovely!
Here's one of her just randomly bumping into Orlando in London...