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Thread: thomas merton

  1. #1

    Default thomas merton

    "art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves @ the same time"

  2. #2
    Brackish African wmgaretjax's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2007

    Default Re: thomas merton

    says someone whose poetry fucking sucked.

  3. #3

    Default Re: thomas merton

    I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member...

  4. #4
    Coachella Junkie weeklymix's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2009

    Default Re: thomas merton

    i read this exchange several times and just felt bad if i didn't admit to that. i lol'd.

  5. #5
    Brackish African wmgaretjax's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2007

    Default Re: thomas merton

    Landscape: Wheatfields - Written in 1947

    Frown there like Cressy or like Agincourt,
    You fierce and bearded shocks and sheaves
    And shake your grain-spears,
    And know no tremor in your vigilant
    Your stern array, my summer chevaliers!

    Although the wagons,
    (Hear how the battle of those wheels,
    Worrying the loose wood with their momentary thunder
    Leaves us to guess some trestle, there, behind the sycamores.)
    Although the empty wagons come,

    Rise up, like kings out of the pages of a chronicle
    And cry your courage in your golden beards;
    For now the summer-time is half-way done,
    Gliding to a dramatic crisis
    Sure as the deep waters to the sedentary mill.

    Arise like kings and prophets from the pages of an
    ancient Bible,
    And blind us with the burnish of your message in our June:
    Then raise your hands and bless us
    An depart, like old Melchisedech, and find your
    proper Salem.

    The slow hours crowd upon us.
    Our days slide evenly toward the term of all our liturgy,
    And all our weeks are after Pentecost.

    Summer divides his garrisons,
    Surrenders up his strongest forts,
    Strikes all his russet banners one by one.
    And while these ancient men of war
    Casting us in the teeth with the reproof of their surrender
    (By which their fruitfulness is all fulfilled,)
    Throw down their arms.

    Face we the day when we go up to stake our graces
    Against unconquerable God:
    Try, with our trivial increase, in that time of harvest
    To stem the army of His attributes!

    Oh pray us full of marrow, Queen of Heaven,
    For those mills, His truth, our glory!
    Crown us with alleluias on that day of fight!

    (Light falls as fair as lyres, beamy between the branches,
    Plays like an angel on the mill-dam, where the lazy stream
    Suddenly turns to clouds of song and rain,)
    Oh pray us, Lady, full of faith and graces,
    Arm us with fruits against that contest and comparison,
    Arm us with ripeness for the wagons of our Christ!

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