it all matters

why the need of romantic tragic poets?

I never write about Pete. As it is still too horrible even now. 

I mean, I still strain to— still struggle to — find the words. but I still can’t. 

The shift that spring loaded me out — the final departure through and the trail of breadcrumbs where I trod past that elfin grot down the hallways of mirrors and rhyme …. 

It was the boy on the motor bike who got killed. No, I never say; never write if it, never speak of it, never could—not ever but he is a love story I never told anyone because it only happened the night before he died but it didn’t happen; he wanted it to but —I was with the captain of the rugby team who was an egoist. There was jealousy. They raced across the busy road instead of using the underpass meant for bikes; it was a dare ….one did not make it 

I relived that scene a million times …. I know I was on suicide watch there by the faculty as some kind of Ophelia but ….they saved me ….i walked through that doorway and never looked back 

more about La Belle*

When I’d first read the Keats poem my thoughts veered into another direction. Because I really thought—personally I really thought ….the ‘knight’ was a metaphor 

so I thought ….Keats was using this as a way to describe himself as a fallen knight not as an actual knight —but one held up by armor. As though he battled in that great Arthur code of love as an honorable knight and was pierced in the battle. some hint as to where and when I first put on the armor and how the concept arrived to me (and indication of what an impact this poem had on me and remains)

*footnote

clear other hints

‘wight’ which could suggest a kind of ghostly human

the withered sedge on the lake and the squirrels full granary— a squirrel as it prepares for winter; the harvest being done, no birds sing—they have flown for the winter; are woeful and impending deathlike references 

  ….how could I not have fallen in love with Keats by his tragic heartbreak?

to note of codes

The most important hint that his poem was speaking in poetic language is the reference to the lily—the lily on thy brow 

and then the rose 

the lily indicates the knight is still a young man —but fast wither….means dying untimely in youth 

the rose indicates in the language of poetry, the heart and love or in this case, a broken heart 

Of course ~Wordsworth —as his name would suggest, requires an entire code book 

La Belle Dame Sans Merci is a word in my dictionary

It all really began for me with this one poem—this whole secret language that evoked a doorway to a realm that I forever was a citizen of 

This one poem by Keats in my tenth grade English Literature class as I was desperately searching for meaning those words pulled me under his spell 

But then there was this …. which is my favorite painting Waterhouse’s style is often grouped with PreRaphaelite~his style and principles would be of the genre but he was not in the ‘Brotherhood’ 

La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John William Waterhouse 1849-1917

Here is the Poem that inspired the painting 

La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats 1795-1821

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
  Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is withered from the lake, 
  And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
  So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full, 
  And the harvest's done.

I see a lilly on thy brow,
  With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
  Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads
  Full beautiful, a faery's child; 
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
  And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,
  And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing 
  A faery's song.

I made a garland for her head, 
  And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love, 
  And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
  And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
  I love thee true.

She took me to her elfin grot,
  And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes—
  So kissed to sleep.

And there we slumbered on the moss,
  And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed 
  On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
  Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried—"La belle Dame sans merci 
  Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloam 
  With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here 
  On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn here 
  Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
  And no birds sing.

 

today’s progress

removed other ships, then filled in the ocean to make perspective make better sense—shoreline foam by sand will be added when I start the green hues (the planned finer details mentioned will occur down the road; laying out the field)

I am the waves when I paint the water; I flow and move inside the currents. I want to be the water, and flow on and on, and move upon the waves and crash upon the shore 

that is what I feel
 when I paint this and what I feel when I look into the water —is this why I paint water so much ….i don’t know, it is more the magic of the scrying that is the actual destination 

would you like to know my thoughts ….? They are not like ordinary thoughts at all but they are much happier than the other things out there