Entirely

[Red Poppy]

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;
All we know is the splash of words in passing
and falling twigs of song,
And when we try to eavesdrop on the great
Presences it is rarely
That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate
Even a phrase entirely.

If we could find our happiness entirely
In somebody else's arms
We should not fear the spears of the spring nor the city's
Yammering fire alarms
But, as it is, the spears each year go through
Our flesh and almost hourly
Bell or siren banishes the blue
Eyes of Love entirely.

And if the world were black or white entirely
And all the charts were plain
Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,
A prism of delight and pain,
We might be surer where we wished to go
Or again we might be merely
Bored but in the brute reality there is no
Road that is right entirely.


Louis MacNeice (1907-1963)

[dar]

Thank you for posting this poem Red Poppy. The upside of the thoughts the poem brought is when it all feels too slippery and slimy to hold on to that's not entirely true! Good to see you.

[Red Poppy]

And you!

[lonndubh]

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;

And Id imagine get as bored as hell when we knew it all .
Great poem Redpoppy and thank you for posting it .

The upside of the thoughts the poem brought is when it all feels too slippery and slimy to hold on to

Maybe that which is Life and Light is not to be possessed

[Steven]

Hi Red Poppy,

Though this poem is informed by angst and difficulty, I like that it
isn't dark. Never had I read this poem before. A great poem.

[Diane]

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;
All we know is the splash of words in passing
and falling twigs of song,
And when we try to eavesdrop on the great
Presences it is rarely
That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate
Even a phrase entirely.

If we could find our happiness entirely
In somebody else's arms
We should not fear the spears of the spring nor the city's
Yammering fire alarms
But, as it is, the spears each year go through
Our flesh and almost hourly
Bell or siren banishes the blue
Eyes of Love entirely.

And if the world were black or white entirely
And all the charts were plain
Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,
A prism of delight and pain,
We might be surer where we wished to go
Or again we might be merely
Bored but in the brute reality there is no
Road that is right entirely.

But in his play, The Shadowy Waters

What the world’s million lips are searching for
Must be substantial somewhere...

One of them cannot be wrong...

[Red Poppy]

Then again, Diane, Willie B Yeats was a fascist.

[Diane]

Was he, RP? And Hitler was a half-decent landscape artist in his spare time, but he was Hitler. Does that make it junk?

I came across that Yeats quote in the context of someone saying that romantics want to know where they can find Truth – never considering that what they seek may not exist – i.e. it must be substantial somewhere by the very fact that we yearn for it.

But do we really actually believe we can find the answer for this longing, or do we accept we will never have it entirely?

I’d be grateful for your informed answer by teatime tonight;-)

[imaginary friend]

Hi Red Poppy and Diane,

In colour theory, black, at one end of the spectrum, is the amalgamation of all colours, with the absence of light. White, at the other end is pure light, with the absence of any colour. We exist (in this vale of tears) amongst the various levels of colour in between. As it is more substantial, we believe it easy to identify black. White is more elusive.

If pure white does not exist, absolute black must not either; but once an idea exists, it exists; and can be communicated and shared, making it comprehensible, if not tangible.

I am longing for tea-time. Hope it exists!

[Diane]

Nice one, Imaginary. Wasn’t expecting a serious answer. Thank you!