The following poem “My Garden,” was written by Ralph Waldo Emerson in 1866, published by the Atlantic.
“My Garden”
If I could put my woods in song, And tell what’s there enjoyed, All men would to my gardens throng, And leave the cities void. In my plot no tulips blow, Snow-loving pines and oaks instead, And rank the savage maples grow From spring’s faint flush to autumn red. My garden is a forest-ledge, Which older forests bound; The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge, Then plunge in depths profound. Here once the Deluge ploughed, Laid the terraces, one by one; Ebbing later whence it flowed, They bleach and dry in the sun. The sowers made haste to depart, The wind and the birds which sowed it; Not for fame, nor by rules of art, Planted these and tempests flowed it. Waters that wash my garden-side Play not in Nature’s lawful web, They heed not moon or solar tide, — Five years elapse from flood to ebb. Hither hasted, in old time, Jove, And every god, — none did refuse; And be sure at last came Love, And after Love, the Muse.
If are enjoying reading these lovely sets of words from Ralph Waldo Emerson, you should check out the Writers Corner at the Ritual Blog.
Keen ears can catch a syllable, As if one spake to another In the hemlocks tall, untamable, And what the whispering grasses smother. Æolian harps in the pine Ring with the song of the Fates; Infant Bacchus in the vine, — Far distant yet his chorus waits. Canst thou copy in verse one chime Of the wood-bell’s peal and cry? Write in a book the morning’s prime, Or match with words that tender sky? Wonderful verse of the gods, Of one import, of varied tone; They chant the bliss of their abodes To man imprisoned in his own.
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Ever the words of the gods resound, But the porches of man’s ear Seldom in this low life’s round Are unsealed that he may hear. Wandering voices in the air, And murmurs in the wold, Speak what I cannot declare, Yet cannot all withhold. When the shadow fell on the lake, The whirlwind in ripples wrote Air-bells of fortune that shine and break, And omens above thought. But the meanings cleave to the lake, Cannot be carried in book or urn; Go thy ways now, come later back, On waves and hedges still they burn These the fates of men forecast, Of better men than live to-day; If who can read them comes at last, He will spell in the sculpture, “Stay.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson was an essayist, poet, and founder of The Atlantic. He was a leading figure in the transcendentalist movement and a noted advocate of individualism and emancipation.
Mad Men
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Mad Men eBook at Mind on Fire Books[/caption]
Mad Men begins with Matt’s tale, a thought-provoking thriller which causes the reader to question his reality and what he fears within himself. The second tale explores the grotesque juxtaposed with beautiful nature, where the ending unfolds into a horrific dream, waking in even more terrible pain. The third tale is by seasoned horror writer, A.R. Braun – and his diabolical creatures never disappoint! A.R. Braun’s goal is to be on the banned book list; we think this tale may just be evil enough to be considered. A must read before it does get banned!
Mainstream Horror Shorts don’t always satisfy us in the way they should. They don’t open conversations about what it is that we fear or why we fear such things, they focus mainly on pop culture and gore. The writers in the Mad Men anthology understand the need for literate horror, opening discussions of man’s psyche. When these writers set out to tell a story, they are less interested in conveying fear and more interested in wonder, the sublime, and the infinite strangeness that drives all man and woman. Highly recommended for tweens, teens, and adults.
The Mad Men anthology published by Mind on Fire Books. Written by Willy Martinez, A.R. Braun and Matt Lavitt. No part of this book shall be copied without permission from the publisher.
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Art for On Writing Horror[/caption]
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Art for On Writing Horror[/caption]
