I returned from a great trip to Providence in time to enjoy the first installment of the Farscape: Peacekeeper Wars miniseries. Definitely worth the wait.
It seems posting poetry is the thing to do these days. I'm being utterly predictable and going with J.R.R. Tolkien for my quote of the day, but I've chosen a dark, lesser-read work from the collection "The Adventures of Tom Bombadil." "The Sea-Bell" is a poem some interpret as a description of Frodo's descent into madness. I won't quote the entire work here due to length, but see the title of this post for a quick quote, and see below for its final stanza. The last two lines I find to be quite haunting.
excerpt from "The Sea-Bell" by J.R.R. Tolkien (1962)
Houses were shuttered, wind round them muttered,
roads were empty. I sat by a door,
and where drizzling rain poured down a drain
I cast away all that I bore:
in my clutching hand some grains of sand,
and a sea-shell silent and dead.
Never will my ear that bell hear,
never my feet that shore tread
Never again, as in sad lane,
in blind alley and in long street
ragged I walk. To myself I talk;
for still they speak not, men that I meet.
It seems posting poetry is the thing to do these days. I'm being utterly predictable and going with J.R.R. Tolkien for my quote of the day, but I've chosen a dark, lesser-read work from the collection "The Adventures of Tom Bombadil." "The Sea-Bell" is a poem some interpret as a description of Frodo's descent into madness. I won't quote the entire work here due to length, but see the title of this post for a quick quote, and see below for its final stanza. The last two lines I find to be quite haunting.
excerpt from "The Sea-Bell" by J.R.R. Tolkien (1962)
Houses were shuttered, wind round them muttered,
roads were empty. I sat by a door,
and where drizzling rain poured down a drain
I cast away all that I bore:
in my clutching hand some grains of sand,
and a sea-shell silent and dead.
Never will my ear that bell hear,
never my feet that shore tread
Never again, as in sad lane,
in blind alley and in long street
ragged I walk. To myself I talk;
for still they speak not, men that I meet.