Stay Gold

It's Wednesday night and we're watching The Outsiders.
What a great film.
Surely one of the best from the 1980s.
So well-written, and well-acted, and just a pure classic.
Quite a few quotable lines too (such as, "Do it for Johnny!"), but none more memorable than, "Stay gold."
I often forget the poem from which this reference comes, and then I have to look it up.
Here it is so I/we can always remember to stay gold.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. But only so an hour. The Her early leaf's a flower ;n leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Coming out of hiding

Sorry I haven't been blogging.
I've been busy.
It's the end of the year, DN1 is graduating this week, I have deadlines at work and for a board I chair at church - life's been hectic.
This, however, is worth coming out of hiding.
Britain has named their first-ever female poet laureate.
This is a big deal, folks!
Finally, after 400 years, they recognize that women write poetry - good poetry!
Her name is Carol Ann Duffy and you can check out her bibliography here.
In honor of Carol Ann Duffy, I'll provide you with a nursery rhyme that described my hair yesterday:

There Was a Little Girl,
Who Had a Little Curl

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.

Where the curl came from on my head, I have no idea.
It was there, though.
I'll try to be better today.

Annual Silent Poetry Reading

Did you realize yesterday was the Annual Silent Poetry Reading for blogs?
I always forget.
I think I was a day late last year.
Isn't that just like me, and I bet I'm a dollar short too.
Not to make this too somber of a post, but my favorite poetry is that of the World War I poets. There's something so poignant, yet strong about the message sent through the words of Englishmen who suffered in a horrible war, and from so many who died young.
Wilfred Owen is one of these young men, whose story is strikingly sad. Fortunately his poetry lives on to remind us of what war is really like. You may recall he wrote the most famous poem of WWI - "Dulce et Decorum est".

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
- Only the monstruous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Not a happy poem, but one that resonates with a message that transcends any specific war.
Here is a photo of Wilfred Owen - his eyes say it all:


Thanks to Major Knitter for reminding me of this day.