Ultraism “A Spanish iconoclastic movement which first appeared in 1919 and had virtually disappeared by 1923. Spain’s answer to the European avant garde. Ultraism proposed to merge advanced contemporary artistic tendencies. Jorge Luis Borges, who was in Spain in 1918, contributed to the origins of Ultraism and carried its theories back to Buenos Aires in 1921.”

The Upanishads

KHÂNDOGYA-UPANISHAD.
FIRST PRAPÂTHAKA.
FIRST KHANDA 1.

1. LET a man meditate on the syllable 2 Om, called the udgîtha; for the udgîtha (a portion of the Sâma-veda) is sung, beginning with Om.

The full account, however, of Om is this:--

2. The essence 3 of all beings is the earth, the essence of the earth is water, the essence of water the plants, the essence of plants man, the essence of man speech, the essence of speech the Rig-veda, the essence of the Rig-veda the Sâma-veda 1, the essence of the Sâma-veda the udgîtha (which is Om).

3. That udgîtha (Om) is the best of all essences, the highest, deserving the highest place 2, the eighth.

4. What then is the Rik? What is the Sâman? What is the udgîtha? 'This is the question.

5. The Rik indeed is speech, Sâman is breath, the udgîtha is the syllable Om. Now speech and breath, or Rik and Sâman, form one couple.

6. And that couple is joined together in the syllable Om. When two people come together, they fulfil each other's desire.

7. Thus he who knowing this, meditates on the syllable (Om), the udgîtha, becomes indeed a fulfiller of desires.

8. That syllable is a syllable of permission, for whenever we permit anything, we say Om, yes. Now permission is gratification. He who knowing this meditates on the syllable (Om), the udgîtha, becomes indeed a gratifier of desires.

9. By that syllable does the threefold knowledge (the sacrifice, more particularly the Soma-sacrifice, as founded on the three Vedas) proceed. When the Adhvaryu priest gives an order, he says Om. When the Hotri priest recites, he says Om. When the Udgâtri priest sings, he says Om, all for the glory of that syllable. The threefold knowledge (the sacrifice) proceeds by the greatness of that syllable (the vital breaths), and by its essence (the oblations) 1.

10. Now therefore it would seem to follow, that both he who knows this (the true meaning of the syllable Om), and he who does not, perform the same sacrifice 2. But this is not so, for knowledge and ignorance are different. The sacrifice which a man performs with knowledge, faith, and the Upanishad 3 is more powerful. This is the full account of the syllable Om.

DWill wrote:This is so good that I feel let down by the last two lines of it.

What? Did The Bard slip?

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Well, Will, first off, "that well" is, I suppose, a play on "Will" himself and a play on water and fire.

thou must leave ere long

leave: turn the page on, echoing the "yellow leaves" (yellow pages) of which the poet is exhausted, or write the obit for. Plus, the Bard is comparing his palsied self to a shaking tree, and what kind of tree? A shaking pear (Shakespear) tree, no doubt, whose leaves do yellow and fall in its autumn of life.

Well, in this moment of poetic exuberance I'd like to point out that wrapped (stored in leaves) fruit keeps better, so the poet's 'pears' will be treasured after his demise amid his yellowed pages, which indeed came true. And they sweeten as they ripen into literary immortality.

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Who's leaving? Not only is the poet, but the reader/addressee also. The reader burns brighter from contact with the inspiration of the poet.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

Carpe diem. Get the sweetness of life now or never.

Tom

Nice post, Tom! I think I will take my sweetness where and when I can get it!

John Updike.

Penumbrae

by John Updike
The shadows have their seasons, too.
The feathery web the budding maples
cast down upon the sullen lawn

bears but a faint relation to
high summer's umbrageous weight
and tunnellike continuum—

black leached from green, deep pools
wherein a globe of gnats revolves
as airy as an astrolabe.

The thinning shade of autumn is
an inherited Oriental,
red worn to pink, nap worn to thread.

Shadows on snow look blue. The skier,
exultant at the summit, sees his poles
elongate toward the valley: thus

each blade of grass projects another
opposite the sun, and in marshes
the mesh is infinite,

as the winged eclipse an eagle in flight
drags across the desert floor
is infinitesimal.

And shadows on water!—
the beech bough bent to the speckled lake
where silt motes flicker gold,

or the steel dock underslung
with a submarine that trembles,
its ladder stiffened by air.

And loveliest, because least looked-for,
gray on gray, the stripes
the pearl-white winter sun

hung low beneath the leafless wood
draws out from trunk to trunk across the road
like a stairway that does not rise.

Oh, darn! I meant to post Gerard Manley Hopkins' "The Sea and the Skylark" for S. Well, that's ok. I've got one of his to post for W.

U
"Upon Julia's Clothes," by Robert Herrick . This is a repeat of mine, I believe.

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free,
O how that glittering taketh me!

DWill wrote:U
"Upon Julia's Clothes," by Robert Herrick . This is a repeat of mine, I believe.

I posted this about 20 minutes ago and pulled it down to post John Updike.

Saffron wrote:I posted this about 20 minutes ago and pulled it down to post John Updike.

That doesn't surprise me in the least.

I think I will make my V post a mishmash of poets, poems & lines.

I love this line of poetry, it doesn't start with a V word, but you will see the V is prominent and why I think of it as a V.

My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
--Andrew Marvell

Vespers
by Louise Glück

In your extended absence, you permit me
use of earth, anticipating
some return on investment. I must report
failure in my assignment, principally
regarding the tomato plants.
I think I should not be encouraged to grow
tomatoes. Or, if I am, you should withhold
the heavy rains, the cold nights that come
so often here, while other regions get
twelve weeks of summer. All this
belongs to you: on the other hand,
I planted the seeds, I watched the first shoots
like wings tearing the soil, and it was my heart
broken by the blight, the black spot so quickly
multiplying in the rows. I doubt
you have a heart, in our understanding of
that term. You who do not discriminate
between the dead and the living, who are, in consequence,
immune to foreshadowing, you may not know
how much terror we bear, the spotted leaf,
the red leaves of the maple falling
even in August, in early darkness: I am responsible
for these vines.


And

Verses upon the Burning of our House
by Anne Bradstreet

In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thund'ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "fire" and "fire,"
Let no man know is my Desire.
I starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To straighten me in my Distress
And not to leave me succourless.
Then coming out, behold a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.

And the opening to "Vacation" by Rita Dove

I love the hour before takeoff,
that stretch of no time, no home
but the gray vinyl seats linked like
unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shall
be summoned to the gate, soon enough

Just one more, please.....I'll end as I began, with a poem of love.

Variation on the Word Sleep
by Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head