Poem XX from 'Last Poems' by A. E. Housman

"... The night is freezing fast,
To-morrow comes December;
And winterfalls of old
Are with me from the past;
And chiefly I remember
How Dick would hate the cold.

Fall, winter, fall; for he,
Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
Has woven a winter robe,
And made of earth and sea
His overcoat for ever,
And wears the turning globe ..."

White Winter Hymnal

by 'Fleet Foxes'

Winter Swans

"... The clouds had given their all -
two days of rain and then a break
in which we walked,

the waterlogged earth
gulping for breath at our feet
as we skirted the lake, silent and apart,

until the swans came and stopped us
with a show of tipping in unison.
As if rolling weights down their bodies to their heads

they halved themselves in the dark water,
icebergs of white feather, paused before returning again
like boats righting in rough weather.

'They mate for life' you said as they left,
porcelain over the stilling water. I didn't reply
but as we moved on through the afternoon light,

slow-stepping in the lake's shingle and sand,
I noticed our hands, that had, somehow,
swum the distance between us

and folded, one over the other,
like a pair of wings settling after flight ..."

from 'Skirrid Hill' by Owen Sheers


















'Winter Swans' by Kate Somers

For A Minor Reflection

'For A Minor Reflection' are a relatively new group from Iceland, who are currently the supporting act for Sigur Ros on their tour. I saw them for the first time at the Wolverhampton Civic this past Tuesday (4th November), and they were completely amazing.

Check out this track recorded from the concert:

In the absence of words, this band say everything - their music produces the time and space to articulate meaning. They create emotion. And in so doing - provoke an emotional response. This is unsurpassable empathy and connectedness - and you can't ask for much more. Caught in a moment, like when two people unexpectedly catch each others' eyes and immediately smile in recognition and acceptance that they know they both feel the same way.


I bought the CD and a T-Shirt afterwards! One of the guitarists liked my blue British Sea Power T-Shirt ... ! ;o)] It was the drummer's birthday! Their CD is wonderful - I highly recommend it. The record forms a perfect circle - the short 'Intro' making complete sense once the whole has been listened to. By the end, the 'intro' becomes a 'reprise'. This is pure genius - by planting a seed at the start 'For A Minor Reflection' retrospectively create a piece that in it's 'wholeness' blooms into something amazing. From the very beginning the band are remembering something that 'has been' for them, but is 'yet to come' for us . And what has already been experienced by the band, once shared with the listener, becomes something very special for all of us ...


For A Minor Reflection on MySpace

all the trees of the field have clapped their hands

"For ye shall go out with joy,
and be led forth with peace:
the mountains and the hills shall break
forth before you into singing,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands"
Isaiah 55:12 (KJV)



"... if I am alive this time next year
will I have arrived in time to share?
and mine is about as good this far
and I'm still applied to what you are
and I am joining all my thoughts to you
and I'm preparing every part for you

and I heard from the trees a great parade
and I heard from the hills a band was made
and will I be invited to the sound?
and will I be a part of what you've made?
and I am throwing all my thoughts away
and I'm destroying every bet I've made
and I am joining all my thoughts to you
and I'm preparing every part for you ..."


all the trees of the field will clap their hands
by sufjan stevens



and I have seen the trees shiver and clap their hands
and from the shudder
down came the leaves

Llyn Hesgin by Clyde Holmes

I recently discovered the passing of the landscape painter Clyde Holmes. I found the portrayal of his life and work in the 1997 series 'Visions of Snowdonia' very poignant and inspiring. I first saw, through the documentary, how a life of art and poetry can be made whole. How, through our lives art, poetry and any 'creative expression' can become a vocation. Clyde's vocation was the upland landscape of Snowdonia, in particular Llyn Hesgyn near Bala. This was an intermediate place - neither pastoral lowland, nor sublime and dramatic mountains. Nor was the vocation of the artist a romantic one (personally, I became aware that allowing myself to open up to the 'poetic' side of my life and personality was difficult and painful, and could leave me emotionally exhausted, in need of just lying down.) The smoothed contours of words and brush strokes were moulded like this through the slow and persistent attrition of the elements. And his peopleless paintings, for me, are populated with so much humanity, because these places were seen and known and experienced and then shared through the eye of an artist - Clyde Holmes. Rest in peace.

Autumn

The trees are open
cages - now the leaves escape
through bars they reveal

haiku by Clyde Holmes

previous autumn-esque offerings:

http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2007/10/trying-to-answer-times-of-no-reply.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/11/autumn-pause-for-thought.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-then-heart-replies.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/time-of-no-reply.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/field-of-autumn.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2004/10/slants-on-autumn.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2006/09/fruit-tree.html