Ode from Wordsworth ... Memorialis

Excerpt from William Wordsworth's famous  "536. Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood."


William Wordsworth (1770-1850), English Romantic poet.  He was born in Cockermouth, Cumbria, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1797, he moved with his sister Dorothy to Somerset to be near Samuel Coleridge, by which he collaborated on Lyrical Ballads.  Two years later, he lived in the Lake District, where his later works included Poems (with "Intimations of Immortality") and The Prelude, written to form part of the autobiographical work The Recluse, but not completed.  


Ode: Intimations of immortality upon recollections of early childhood.

Though nothing can bring back the hours
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death;
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
~ English Poet ~

In Memoriam:  10th Death Anniversary of Jops

Loved one, Jops, best friend for 35 years, who valiantly battled with cancer.  (Passed away, 5th August 2007, 8:00pm) 

Time heals sorrow.
Caring folks ease the pain.
Peace replaces heartache.
Warmest memories remain...

(c) 2007-2017.  Tel Asiado.  Tel's Inspired Pen. All rights reserved.

The Courage to Face Changes

Our courage to face changes is challenged as trying times continue.  


When are our best days, weeks or months of our lives? When we’re kids, growing up? In college? Or at some later stage in adult life?

No matter how we view change, it's an inevitable part of life - and we can't experience anything new without it. 

What do we do when we feel trapped with trying times on and on, and seemingly endless?

Come to think of it, it’s probably not as bad as we think. There are always things we dislike and others we relish, some we may hold in our hearts forever. Once I heard the four-year-old lovely daughter of a friend say, “I don’t like school, but I might change my mind.”

Writer's block and other musings

Musings / A day in a writer's life

I'm running late with my self-imposed writing deadlines, articles waiting to be written and I haven't managed a single draft.

Unavoidable issues got in the way some months back.

Today, I've been blest with some time. My cup needs a third filling of a hot coffee. I struggle to write even a line.  

Familiar?

I need to put my thoughts to paper but my pen freezes. My muse refuses to write.

Why do I write?

I write because I love to write.  Recently though, writing has become extremely therapeutic too.

For a while my mind went blank, not because I had nothing to say. On the contrary. It might have happened to you, when sometimes you have much to say but very little with which to say them. Well, I've been trying to look beyond the horizon and explore new ideas and topics to write about, but this time is one of those moments when words seem to fail me.

I'm glad that Virginia Woolf rescues me by putting my thoughts to pen when she said: "I must be private, secret, anonymous and submerged as possible in order to write." I've always been a private person in so many ways. I still am, but somehow, about five years after the millennium few things within and some ways I relate to others relaxed when I started writing seriously.