Junior Ganymede
We endeavor to give satisfaction

Scratching the Itch for Rhyme

June 04th, 2014 by G.

Me and the girls are reciting Ogden Nash to each other these days. I’ve always liked him (him and Barbara Fritchie) and now the girls are liking him too. (more…)

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June 04th, 2014 08:30:32

If by God’s Mercy Progress Ever Ends

March 18th, 2014 by G.

I will not walk with your progressive apes,
erect and sapient. Before them gapes
the dark abyss to which their progress tends
if by God’s mercy progress ever ends.

-thus J. R. R. Tolkien, Mythopoeia.

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March 18th, 2014 12:21:33

Biology, and Love and Glory

February 13th, 2014 by G.

George Cochran Lambdin - The Consecration

Love and glory are of the fundamental attributes of God and reality. Love is unconditional whereas glory is earned respect, or conditional love. They are deeply intertwined and complementary. (more…)

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February 13th, 2014 13:54:34

After Prayers, Lie Cold

February 07th, 2014 by G.

Arise my body, my small body, we have striven
Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven.
Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,
White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,
Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,
And be alone, hush’d mortal, in the sacred night,
-A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup
Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up,
Faded in colour, thinned almost to raggedness
By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness.
Be not too quickly warm again. Lie cold; consent
To weariness’ and pardon’s watery element.
Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death;
Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.

Thus C.S. Lewis.

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February 07th, 2014 12:01:43

For the Last Time

January 29th, 2014 by G.

Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), “Límites” (tr. Kenneth Krabbenhoft):

There is a line by Verlaine that I will not remember again.
There is a street nearby that is off limits to my feet.
There is a mirror that has seen me for the last time.
There is a door I have closed until the end of the world.
Among the books in my library (I’m looking at them now) are some I will never open.
This summer I will be fifty years old.
Death is using me up, relentlessly.
—from Inscriptions (Montevideo, 1923) by Julio Platero Haedo

Hay una línea de Verlaine que no volveré a recordar.
Hay una calle próxima que está vedada a mis pasos,
Hay un espejo que me ha visto por última vez,
Hay una puerta que he cerrado hasta el fin del mundo.
Entre los libros de mi biblioteca (estoy viéndolos)
Hay alguno que ya nunca abriré.
Este verano cumpliré cincuenta años;
La muerte me desgasta, incesante.

From here.

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January 29th, 2014 13:55:45

Last Call

October 08th, 2013 by Pecos Bill

O life is a game of poker
And I’ve played it straight to the end;
But the last chip’s down on the table
And I’m done with the game, my friend.

The deck was stacked by the Dealer
Before he would let me in;
The cards were marked, and I knew it—
There was never a chance to win.

Sharlot Hall

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October 08th, 2013 06:21:43

Every Poet Holds These Dogmas

May 14th, 2013 by G.

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May 14th, 2013 12:22:01

At the End of Spring

April 02nd, 2013 by G.

The flower of the pear-tree gathers and turns to fruit;
The swallows’ eggs have hatched into young birds.
When the Seasons’ changes thus confront the mind
What comfort can the Doctrine of Tao give? (more…)

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April 02nd, 2013 12:40:01

The Raft-builders

April 02nd, 2013 by G.

All we who write put me in mind of sailors hastily making rafts upon doomed ships. (more…)

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April 02nd, 2013 06:28:48

Resignation, by Po Chu-i

March 22nd, 2013 by G.

Keep off your thoughts from things that are past and done. (more…)

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March 22nd, 2013 08:03:58

In Spring the Gardener Finds Out Death

March 13th, 2013 by G.

From mysliveroflife.blogspot.com

From mysliveroflife.blogspot.com

In Spring the gardener finds out death.
He finds which limbs did not o’erwinter.
Some stems twig and bud and bloom,
Some stems splinter.

I lost a limb some seasons back,
Of my flesh, my firstborn daughter.
Time dried the break, but I still lack
The fruits–a moiety of laughter.

(more…)

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March 13th, 2013 10:55:58

Worst English poet ever?

February 14th, 2013 by Vader

Wikipedia‘ suggested candidate: William McGonagall       (more…)

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February 14th, 2013 09:15:21

A Song for Saint Cecilia’s Day

January 17th, 2013 by G.

When the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And music shall untune the sky.

(more…)

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January 17th, 2013 15:23:31

Youth was Cheap

October 30th, 2012 by G.

Two passages from Kipling: (more…)

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October 30th, 2012 11:55:04

Memory of the Li River, by Min Chaobin

September 07th, 2012 by G.

From the July 2012 issue of First Things. (more…)

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September 07th, 2012 07:05:30