Wales has given us many great exports besides coal. One has been the beauty of its poetry, and the other the beauty of its music. In the video clip below, from 1970, Tom Jones does something other than sway his hips — he recites for us from countryman Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales. Accompanying him is The Treorchy Male Choir, singing holiday carols in the lovely sounds of the Welsh choral tradition.
Thank God for Second Life right now! A safe place to meet, and mostly a place of calm, where you can get your head together for an hour or two outside of the fears and panic of the times.
And a woman spoke, saying, “Tell us of Pain.” And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, “On Pain”
Skin: Raonhausen Gweneth (BOM; Milk Brows)
Head: LAQ Skye 3.07 Bento
Body: Maitreya Lara 5.0.2
Eyes: Ikon Triumph (Chocolate)
Hair: no.match no.sir.
Outfit: Ricielli Vivian blouse (14) and skort (4) (purchase as separates; available at Cosmopolitan through April 4)
Shoes: Ohemo Daisy block-heel boots (available at Cosmopolitan through April 4)
Teleport to Tokyo-Windhill City (SSOC region).You will not land in the park, as this is a sim with a dedicated landing point! Exit the arcade you land in, then open the Map and change the Location numbers to 133 / 209 / 33, so you will get a beacon to walk toward (no flying allowed in the sim). The park will lie northeast of your landing point, 1-2 minutes’ walk.)
Many Second Life bloggers, including us at Around the Grid, do more than just shoot pretty pictures of pretty clothes or wonderful builds. We also try to talk about what we’re photographing, and we like to add quotes to further help along the story.
The first blogger I recall using quotes was my friend and “namesake,” Harper Beresford. She hasn’t published very regularly since about 2016, as far as I can see; but, when she does, there’s usually a quote of some kind in the text that catches your attention. Many other bloggers have done so over the years; for instance, Anne Daumig at The Wanton Wardrobe makes the quote her entire text, aside from the product list.
One source we’ve been using lately at AtG is the Web site for Poetry Magazine. I’ve known about Poetry for years in print form (I’m a trained librarian, remember, and I worked at college in the periodicals department), but I’ve visited their Web site on occasion since about 2012, when the magazine celebrated its 100th anniversary. They did a cover every month of that year with Pegasus, the symbol of divine inspiration; I chose the January issue to keep on my desk (so to speak [grin]) as a reminder that Real World arts reaches into the Second Life, and that the humanities is more than just prose and visual arts.
Poetry is just a few years shy of its 110th anniversary now, and it’s outlasted any other attempt made to publish interesting verse in the English language. For years, until a bequest by the estate of Ruth Lilly, its finances were, to say the least, living on a tightrope — writing and publishing poetry has never been an insanely profitable enterprise, even in the days of the bards. The publishers and editors have persisted like Elizabeth Warren, though, their mission to bring to attention the best in verse, both old and new, and to show there’s more to poetry than 19th-century romanticism, especially in America. You can learn more of the magazine’s history at their site.
The publishers have done a truly excellent thing, which draws me back time and time again to their site — they have placed their entire issue archive online for free. This brings an extraordinarily deep reservoir of work out into the widest possible availability, and I’ve been using it lately for my pieces here on the blog. I encourage you to stop by their site and browse through this collection, as well as searching by keywords for poems that may strike you as useful … or just for your own personal reading and enrichment. Remember that Goethe said, among the things we should do each day, is read a good poem. It gives you something to think about besides the depressing cadences of the news and Facebook.
“… [I]n the absence of sensory information, the imagination always tends to the grotesque.”
Patrick McGrath
I’ve been doing a little cleanup in my Inventory, and found this gown. It’s vintage now, along with the hair and fur, but worth sharing in some photos.Read the rest of this entry »
“Mardi Gras, baby. Mardi Gras. Time when all manner of weird shit cuts loose and parties down.”
— Sherrilyn Kenyon, No Mercy
We were walking down Bourbon Street the other night, and came across this sign outside the Absinthe Cafe. Can’t think of a better argument in favor of bacon, can you …?
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
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 ….
George Gordon, Lord Byron, “She Walks In Beauty”
Writing the previous article reminded me of a piece I wrote back in 2013, close to this time of the year, in fact (I published it on August 31). It had been about the time of the 2013 Black Fair, and Pure Poison … who were making clothing instead of shoes back then … had just released this lovely gown, all glittering sequins and a netting overgown that melted my buyer’s resistance into a puddle of goo. I just about titled that last article the same thing as six years ago; fortunately, I recalled the previous, and found another poem, by a poet I’ve loved for years, Edna St. Vincent Millay.
She had forgotten how the August night Was level as a lake beneath the moon, In which she swam a little, losing sight Of shore; and how the boy, who was at noon Simple enough, not different from the rest, Wore now a pleasant mystery as he went, Which seemed to her an honest enough test Whether she loved him, and she was content.
Second Life® with Harper, Conan, Jem, Diana and Morgan
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