Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

Reprehensible or not: James Comey: ‘You stare at children crying – what kind of people are we?’


Reprehensible or not: James Comey: ‘You stare at children crying – what kind of people are we?’

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 21 June, 2018

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Filed under: art, Arts, Current Events, history, Literature, Media, Memoir, politics, stories

Luís de Camões – Os Lusíadas (The Lusiads)


Canto I

As armas e os Barões assinalados
Que da Ocidental praia Lusitana
Por mares nunca de antes navegados
Passaram ainda além da Taprobana,
Em perigos e guerras esforçados
Mais do que prometia a força humana,
E entre gente remota edificaram
Novo Reino, que tanto sublimaram.

Luís de Camões – Os Lusíadas

Malcolm D B Munro
SaatchiArt.com/malcolmdbmunro
Monday 18 June, 2018

Filed under: art, history, Literature, Media, Memoir, poetry, songs, stories

John Donne – Batter my heart, three-person’d God


Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp’d town to another due,
Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

John Donne

Malcolm D B Munro
SaatchiArt.com/malcolmdbmunro
Monday 18 June, 2018

Filed under: art, English poetry, history, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories, , , , , , , , , , ,

John Donne – Death be not proud


                                The Holy Sonnets
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Malcolm DB Munro
SaatchiArt.com/malcolmdbmunro
Saturday 16 June, 2018

Filed under: art, English poetry, history, Literature, Media, poetry, stories, , , , ,

Gerard Manley Hopkins – The Windhover


                                     To Christ our Lord
 
I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
    dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
    Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
    As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
    Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
 
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
    Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
 
   No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
    Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
ro
Gerard Manley Hopkins –  The Windhover
 
 
Malcolm DB Munro
SaatchiArt.com/malcomdbmuno
Saturday 16 June, 2018
 
in the public domain

Filed under: art, English poetry, history, Literature, Media, poetry, songs, stories, , , , , , , ,

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