1.17.2010

Poem of the Week XXVI

Kubla Khan OR
A Vision in a Dream: A Fragment
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves:
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Sing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight't would win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

1.15.2010

Coleman Garrett

Today is Coleman Garrett Thompson's 22nd Birthday.

Here are 22 things that I really like about him:

1. He loves weird people. And they love him. I have never met someone who was so good at loving the unlovable.
2. He is an excellent cook. His food is really delicious, and he is really passionate about sharing food with others.
3. Sometimes he offers to pump my gas for me. I let him.
4. He is pretty good at basketball.
5. He has really long, curly eyelashes. They make his eyes look huge. I'm a little jealous.
6. He thinks blogs are silly and will never read this post.
7. He is one of my longest lasting friends. Of course I haven't known him nearly as long as Codi, but it's still be quite a while.
8. He likes to eat. I like to eat. We like to eat at really good restaurants.
9. He listens to me. Even when I sound really crazy.
10. One time in eighth grade he called me on the phone and sang along to this song. It was awesome!
11. He challenges me spiritually.
12. The boy's got jokes. He is really funny. He makes me laugh a lot.
13. He doesn't laugh at my jokes sometimes. It keeps me humble.
14. Cole has amazing work ethic. If he wants to do something, like pass an advanced culinary program exam, he will plan out a study schedule, stick to it, and make it happen.
15. The way he dresses has improved a lot over the years. He doesn't really wear camouflage shorts or white-washed jeans anymore. Thank God!
16. He used to work at Kroger. Enough said.
17. After all these years he has finally learned that I do not like chocolate cake.
18. We share a passion for taco bell.
19. When you call him after 10pm he answers the phone, has a conversation for a couple of minutes, hangs up, and the next day forgets that the conversation ever happened. The kid sleep phone-talks.
20. He is a strange dancer. I mean, at least he tries.
21. His beard is awesome. Coleman has been growing facial hair since he was like ten and a half.
22. He is 22 today.

1.14.2010

12 Hour Shi(f)t

Tomorrow morning I will work my first real 12 hour shift. Eight hours is really hard for me. But, this is four more, plus working as a "nurse manager." I am not so happy about this. Only, I am trying to work on this thing called grace.

I want it. I need it. And I want tomorrow to be God-filled. Please pray that I can overcome my anger with working a 12 hour shift, that actually begins 45 minutes before the 12 hours start. Please, please, pray for me. Pray that I can see Jesus Christ in the people I will serve. Tomorrow is going to be hard, and I sure could use the prayers.

1.12.2010

New Year and Blog-Fail

Sorry that I have been pretty lame and slow to post in this new year. I don't think my "Poem of the Week" entries are entirely popular, so sorry. I guess I just wanted to give you something now, and I don't have a ton to give. But here:

1. I wish my hair was curlier. It's kind of in-between-wavy-curly, and it's a pain.

2. I have a pink/orange/red scarf that my friend Rachel brought me back from Spain. I have been wearing it almost every day now.

3. I think that rejection is much easier to face on the phone than in person, at least in the case of asking people to join my friend's Miss Auburn campaign. It's frustrating.

4. I love awkward. I thrive off of it. That's probably not news.

5. I miss playing my guitar. I rarely make time to play anymore.

6. This is the first blog-post in a long time that I haven't written specifically with one of my "followers" in mind.

7. I would much rather talk about you.

Class tomorrow--8A. Goodnight.

1.09.2010

Distant relatives? (Part 2)

Maybe I'm a little narcissistic, or maybe my life simply imitates art. Or is it art imitating life?
Regardless, please enjoy this:


Poem of the Week XXV

She Walks in Beauty

Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

1.03.2010

Poem of the Week XXIV

For those who just don't belong:

Journey of the Magi
T. S. Eliot

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Than at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different: this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.