Saturday, January 14, 2012

DAYS

KARL HOFER
GIRL WITH AMARYLLIS, 1936
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

--Philip Larkin

WOMAN WITH A BAG
KARL SCHMIDT-ROTTLUFF, 1915

4 comments:

  1. You know, generally I'm not into poetry, but when I do see a good poem, it's quite the credit to its genre.

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  2. If only my priests still wore long coats.

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  3. Don't days make us who we are? And if so, aren't they for blessing and breaking? One thing that came to me this morning was Hopkins' poem 'That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire.' The jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood has so many associations with the Host - friability, shape, comedy. "Away...joyless days," because when we are all sacraments to each other, Christ all of Himself to the whole of everyone, then immortal diamond of heaven happens. We break through the curtain of fire that separates dress rehearsal from performance.

    Thank you, thank you, Heather!

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  4. Thanks, folks, I love Larkin's dryness--and yes, Elizabeth, days are maybe for all sorts of things...thank you for the Hopkins poem which is new to me! "I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am"..."immortal diamond"...not quite the way I would usually describe myself...now that IS the comfort of the Resurrection!...

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