we shall have to think up signs,
sketch a landscape, fabricate a plan
on the double page
of day and paper.
Tomorrow, we shall have to invent,
once more,
the reality of this world.

-- Octavio Paz, "January First"

Very Cute, Thanks for Asking

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Which poem are you?

Sonnet 17 by Pablo Neruda

Aw, you're a romantic. You believe in true love and all that sort of stuff. How cute are you? To you, love is incredible and amazing.

Personality Test Results

That works. Although I was hoping for T.S. Eliot.

Via Proverbial Wife.

Woolly Innocence


by C.S. Lewis

Among the oxen (like an ox I'm slow)

I see glory in the stable grow

Which, with an ox's dullness might at length

Give me an ox's strength.

Among the asses (stubborn I as they)

I see my Savior where I looked for hay;

So may my beastlike folly learn at least

The patience of a beast.

Among the sheep (I like a sheep have strayed)

I watch the manger where my Lord is laid;

Oh that my baa-ing nature would win thence

Some woolly innocence!

The Uncontrollable Mystery


by William Butler Yeats

Now at all times I can see in the mind's eye,

In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones

Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky

With all their helms of silver hovering side by side,

And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,

Being Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,

The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

This Loved Philology


by Emily Dickinson

A Word made Flesh is seldom

And tremblingly partook

Nor then perhaps reported

But have I not mistook

Each one of us has tasted

With ecstasies of stealth

The very food debated

To our specific strength --

A Word that breathes distinctly

Has not the power to die

Cohesive as the Spirit

It may expire if He --

"Made Flesh and dwelt among us"

Could condescension be

Like this consent of Language

This loved Philology.

Can Man Forget This Story?


by Ben Jonson

I sing the birth, was born tonight,

The author both of life, and light;

The angels so did sound it,

And like the ravished shepherds said,

Who saw the light, and were afraid

Yet searched, and true they found it.

The Son of God, th' Eternal King,

That did us all salvation bring,

And freed the soul from danger;

He whom the whole world could not take,

The Word, which heaven, and earth did make,

Was now laid in a manger.

The Father's wisdom willed it so,

The Son's obedience knew no No,

Both wills were in one stature,

And as that wisdom had decreed,

The Word was now made Flesh indeed,

And took on him our nature.

What comfort by him do we win?

Who made himself the prince of sin,

To make us heirs of glory?

To see this babe, all innocence;

A martyr born in our defence;

Can man forget this story?

Aslan Is Not A Tame Lion

I'm going to be spending a lot of time with my family this week, as well as just "taking it easy." I'll post "real" blogs when inspiration strikes, but until then, you'll have to put up with a deluge of Christmas-themed verse. Around this time of the year, I feel especially poetic.

I particularly like the last line of this brief beauty:


by Mary Coleridge

I saw a stable, low and very bare,

A little child in a manger.

The oxen knew him, had Him in their care,

To men He was a stranger.

The safety of the world was lying there,

And the world's danger.