what haunts is a heartbeat that goes deeper than pulsing thought
What haunts is not the memory of sea
not trees that won't grow on these islands' rocks
not the birds or leaves or mountains
what haunts is a heartbeat that goes deeper
than pulsing thought.
^Merle Collins - 'Visit to the Faroe Islands'
It often worries me that as an English Literature student poetry never really speaks to me. I wrote a 1500 word essay on 30 lines of prose the other day, but put those lines in a poetic form and my mind draws a blank. Every now and again though, a few lines or a few stanzas from a poem will resonate with me. The above are some of those lines that I read today. Lest I forget.
I'm highly annoyed that I've come to the end of a semester in which I've spent the entire time bitching about how boring Postcolonial Literature is, just to find that I have in fact enjoyed studying Postcolonial Literature. How did that happen?
I sent 59 out of 60 cards out earlier - the last one missing because I miscounted how many Europe stamps I needed and couldn't be bothered to queue for another 15 minutes just for one stamp - I'll send it tomorrow when the post office is quieter. Now comes the long wait in which I am completely sure they've all gotten lost and all that effort was wasted. Please get there, cards!
I'm sat at uni and will be until I've finished my website work. Posting on LJ is not gonna get me home any quicker, is it?
not trees that won't grow on these islands' rocks
not the birds or leaves or mountains
what haunts is a heartbeat that goes deeper
than pulsing thought.
^Merle Collins - 'Visit to the Faroe Islands'
It often worries me that as an English Literature student poetry never really speaks to me. I wrote a 1500 word essay on 30 lines of prose the other day, but put those lines in a poetic form and my mind draws a blank. Every now and again though, a few lines or a few stanzas from a poem will resonate with me. The above are some of those lines that I read today. Lest I forget.
I'm highly annoyed that I've come to the end of a semester in which I've spent the entire time bitching about how boring Postcolonial Literature is, just to find that I have in fact enjoyed studying Postcolonial Literature. How did that happen?
I sent 59 out of 60 cards out earlier - the last one missing because I miscounted how many Europe stamps I needed and couldn't be bothered to queue for another 15 minutes just for one stamp - I'll send it tomorrow when the post office is quieter. Now comes the long wait in which I am completely sure they've all gotten lost and all that effort was wasted. Please get there, cards!
I'm sat at uni and will be until I've finished my website work. Posting on LJ is not gonna get me home any quicker, is it?