… ground of poetry …

‘Ground of Poetry’ is a poem inspired by the bagpipe playing of a Scottish friend, Colin, during a recent gathering in memory of another friend, Aranth. See an earlier post on ‘receiving.’  The sound of the bagpipe opened the sky and vast landscapes, across which the drone carried the glories tunes into a kind of homecoming. The drone of a musical instrument, I thought, is like the backdrop sound of the universe into which every manifestation dissolves, and from which every manifestation returns.

in the beginning was the word … the leaves in my garden reminded me of words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thousand-and-one words fall to the ground

jewelling the story of seasons’ rounds

they’ll twirl anew to the drone

of each new sound arising

from beyond the ever-

open silence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

open silence

from beyond the ever

of each new sound arising

they’ll twirl anew to the drone

jewelling the story of seasons’ rounds

thousand-and-one words swell from the ground

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For anyone not that familiar with bagpipes, here are a few words and tunes:

http://www.educationscotland.gov.uk/scotlandssongs/about/instruments/bagpipes/index.asp

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18 Comments

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18 responses to “… ground of poetry …

  1. What a beautiful post. Gorgeous words, enchanting images and the swell and skirl of the pipes in my mind – Superb – thank you.

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  2. silentnovelist

    This brought to mind my beloved brother, who learned to play the bagpipes when he was a boy. As a young man he played them and I was transported to the hills and shores of our childhood. Nowadays it is a beckoning sound I hear in that yearning drone, to a place and people that will always feel like home.

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    • I wonder if this sense of being beckoned home by the yearning sound of a drone is universal. Home in the sense of being welcome, hugged, nourished, restored and encouraged to dream anew of far horizons. I’m used to the drone of the handheld harmonium. The bagpipe drone seems to come from its own planet. To my knowledge, I have no roots in Scotland, but some of my best friends do.

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  3. The poetry is beautiful and the pics are breathtaking. is this your own garden?

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    • Thanks, Great to meet you. I visited your blog, love your humour, and your drawings. Will visit more and check out your children books.
      The garden, yes, my own, it’s now receded into the night, but will appear again tomorrow morning. The stone sculptures live in a place nearby. They spoke to me of autumn.

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  4. justintime1980

    Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, καὶ ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν, καὶ Θεός ἦν ὁ Λόγος.
    Where ‘Lógos’ is actually more like ‘idea’ or ‘concept’ rather than ‘word’ (domain of human surface mind :o).

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  5. Lovely! I do so love your poetry, Ashen. Sparse in words, deep in emotion…perfection!

    Oh, btw, I’ve nominated you for the One Lovely Blog Award, I know you’re not really into these things, but I’d love to bring as many visitors as possible to your wonderful blog! 😀 xx

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  6. My cousin belongs to a troupe of pipers and he often plays at family funerals. The sound is like a captured swarm of bees and it displaces thought, even at a distance, forcing one to experience the moment. A harp, a guitar, a piano, even drums can recede to the background but not bagpipes.
    Lovely poem, Ashen, and lovely pictures, too.

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  7. Thanks, J.F. You provide a wonderful description, and you’re right … the sound forces one to experience the moment.

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  8. The sound of bagpipes never fails to bring tears to my eyes. My Grandmother was Scottish and every year on her birthday, we used to ask a cottage neighbour to play the pipes for her. Now, whenever I hear them, I think of her and how much miss her.

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  9. What a magical birthday present. And it kept your grandmother alive in your memory. What do we know? In another dimension time does not exist in the way we measure it …

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