Saturday, 29 May 2010
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Monday, 24 May 2010
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Please may I have my life back?
You are making me boring and miserable. And therefore, my blogs are boring and miserable.
The sun is shining but I am scared that if I go outside all my papers will fly away.
I do not have enough time to prepare for you, I am lazy and you make me sick.
No one likes you. x
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
Friday, 14 May 2010
This is how I feel today.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Matthew Arnold's poem, "Dover Beach" talking about his struggle with his loss of faith. I'm not applying it to my already over-dramatised and melodramatic life, I just think it is exceptionally beautiful and heart breaking. You really get a sense of his devastation, he has lost everything, where he once found meaning, now he finds nothing.
But then maybe there is still hope.
This was written when Arnold was on his honeymoon.
I'd be pretty upset if my husband pranced about writing poems about how shit everything was rather than being in bed with me....