Musings in Autumn: Ken Kesey
“It’s fall coming, I thought, I can smell that sour-molasses smell of silage, clanging the air like a bell – smell like somebody’s been burning oak leaves, left them to smolder overnight because they’re too green.”
Canadian Art – Part I: Shi Le
Artist Statement: “My landscape painting is my response to nature, especially to the environment where I live. I feel the environment through my heart and translate this by a filtering and colouring process. Walking along the river through the bush and sitting on the rocks watching the trickling ripples of water makes me feel at peace in the tranquility of nature.”
A Poem for Today
By Robert Graves
Gloomy and bare the organ-loft,
Bent-backed and blind the organist.
From rafters looming shadowy,
From the pipes’ tuneful company,
Drifted together drowsily,
Innumerable, formless, dim,
The ghosts of long-dead melodies,
Of anthems, stately, thunderous,
Of Kyries shrill and tremulous:
In melancholy drowsy-sweet
They huddled there in harmony.
Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.
Musings in Autumn: Monica Baldwin
“The Sussex lanes were very lovely in the autumn . . . spendthrift gold and glory of the year-end . . . earth scents and the sky winds and all the magic of the countryside which is ordained for the healing of the soul.”
Robert Frost (1874-1963) was an American poet.
Some quotes from the work of Robert Frost:
“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” “Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.”
“Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.”
“Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.”
“I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.”
“The best way out is always through.”
“Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.”
“How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?”
“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”
“If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.”
“Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.”
“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”
A Second Poem for Today
“The Captured Goddess”
By Amy Lowell
Over the housetops,
Above the rotating chimney-pots,
I have seen a shiver of amethyst,
And blue and cinnamon have flickered
At the far end of a dusty street.
Through sheeted rain
Has come a lustre of crimson,
And I have watched moonbeams
Hushed by a film of palest green.
It was her wings,
Who stepped over the clouds,
And laid her rainbow feathers
Aslant on the currents of the air.
I followed her for long,
With gazing eyes and stumbling feet.
I cared not where she led me,
My eyes were full of colours:
Saffrons, rubies, the yellows of beryls,
And the indigo-blue of quartz;
Flights of rose, layers of chrysoprase,
Points of orange, spirals of vermilion,
The spotted gold of tiger-lily petals,
The loud pink of bursting hydrangeas.
And watched for the flashing of her wings.
In the city I found her,
The narrow-streeted city.
In the market-place I came upon her,
Bound and trembling.
Her fluted wings were fastened to her sides with cords,
She was naked and cold,
For that day the wind blew
Men chaffered for her,
They bargained in silver and gold,
In copper, in wheat,
And called their bids across the market-place.
The Goddess wept.
Musings in Autumn: John Hay
“And there, next to me, as the east wind blows in early fall, a season open to great migrations, are those lives, threading the air and waters of the sea, that come out of an incomparable darkness, which is also my own.”
A Third Poem for Today
“Before a Painting”
By James Weldon Johnson
I knew not who had wrought with skill so fine
What I beheld; nor by what laws of art
He had created life and love and heart
On canvas, from mere color, curve and line.
Silent I stood and made no move or sign;
Not with the crowd, but reverently apart;
Nor felt the power my rooted limbs to start,
But mutely gazed upon that face divine.
And over me the sense of beauty fell,
As music over a raptured listener to
The deep-voiced organ breathing out a hymn;
Or as on one who kneels, his beads to tell,
There falls the aureate glory filtered through
The windows in some old cathedral dim.
Musings in Autumn: Gary Snyder
Canadian Art – Part II: Les Thomas
Artist Statement: “The past 4-5 years I have been working on a group of landscape paintings inspired by the Bow River. The subjects of these paintings are not culled solely from the river itself, but also from the landscape lining its banks, as well as some of the creatures inhabiting its waters and shorelines. My familiarity of the Bow has evolved over the past 20 years. I have hiked great lengths of its shores, slept next to the sounds of its current, fished its waters, and drifted upon its varied flow. Well before the 2013 floods I had come to fully appreciate the immense scale and power of this world class river. As a painter, I wanted to avoid simply paying homage to the Bow by documenting her in any traditional manner. Instead, I wanted to use my experience & knowledge of this river as a point of departure or inspiration, resulting in artworks that – in some instances bare little resemblance to the rivers’ factual appearance – but nevertheless, absorb enough of the Bow’s character so as they may be amplified by any subjective liberties I may have taken.”