Death Once Dead, there's No More Dieing Then-Shakespeare

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Just popping in
Joined:
2005/9/17
From: George Town Tasmania Australia
Posts: 16
DEATH ONCE DEAD, THERE’S NO MORE DIEING THEN*



Many a hound pursueth this gazelle of the desert of oneness; many a talon claweth at this thrush of the eternal garden. Pitiless ravens do lie in wait for this bird of the heavens of God...
-Baha’u’llah, Seven Valleys(US, 1952), p.41.

Live free of love, for its very peace is anguish;
Its beginning is pain, its end is death.
-Arabian Poem quoted by Baha’u’llah, Seven Valleys(US, 1952), p.42.


So sweet you trace across the evening air.
I almost missed you as I passed by,
but your fragrance so suddenly and gently
took me high, the softest twist, ‘twas
like that face of beauty which caught
my eye with wonder in the room by the
window under the noonday sun.
How can such beauty be contained in
such a form of eyes, mouth and hair
and such cheeks and forehead?
I soak the beauty and breath the fragrance
into my soul, but then: what can one do
with such beauty after one has drunk it in?
A moment’s fancy, bright, deep longing,
draft of wonder, sight, can not be taken home;
one can not drink forever; it comes and goes
just like the weather’s changing tune.

But here, over here, is a beauty that won’t die.
It dwells forever and beyond the sky in some
emerald height of fidelity.** This is a fragrance
I have known and seen, but the claws of earth,
hounds, pitiless ravens and huntsmen of envy stalk
this pure face of beauty and its sweetest fragrance.
What I have known long, too, can be a memory
like that frangipani I passed tonight, or that young
face of delightful beauty in the sun by my window.
For this beauty that won’t die lives within,
while outside pain and anguish often seem to win.


Ron Price
8 October 1995

* Shakespeare, The Sonnets, Number 146.
** Baha’u’llah, Hidden Words, Persian, 77.


Posted on 2005/9/28 2:55


_________________
I have been married for 37 years. My wife is a Tasmanian, aged 58. We’ve had 3 children: ages in 2005-39, 35 and 28. I am 60, a Canadian who moved to Australia in 1971 and have written 3 books--all available on the internet. I retired from part-time ...


normal Re: Death Once Dead, there's No More Dieing Then Shakespeare


Just popping in
Joined:
2005/9/17
From: George Town Tasmania Australia
Posts: 16

It has been more than a year since I last posted the above item that began with that quote from Shakespeare. I'd like to continue the theme tonight, with a slighly different emphasis, avoiding those apostrophes and quotation marks that don't make the transfer correctly, to the site. -Ron Price, Tasmania.


_______________________


A BITTER SWEETNESS But suppose that one of those men of aspiring spirituality were to be confronted with the reality of the aspiration of their lower self by living out some of that aspiration, that desire, that lust, in some everyday-life setting, in some theatre of passion, would they feel condemned for eternity? Would they, then, hang on to those instruments of redemption, as we all must if we but knew it, instruments forged just recently in history by the tribulations of One of those luminous Gems of Holiness?-Ron Price with appreciation to the Universal House of Justice, A Tribute to Bahaullah, 28 May 1992; and Roger White, The Death of the Lady Killer, Occasions of Grace: More Poems and Portrayals, George Ronald, Oxford, 1992, p. 73.


It was on this night, a Tuesday if I recall,


that the sinewy blond with the longest of


smooth legs accepted his verbal overture


and the light from his never-fail Dunhill.


She was all acquiescence as he gazed into


her blue lids against the curling smoke and


her long golden hair flecked with diamonds


in the soft red-light of the plush piano-bar


just off downtown. In the heat of conversation


they left and took a taxi as the rain cast fleeting


green tints which struggled on her smooth skirt


and in the curls of her hair falling like trapped


starlight: This would be a night, he mused,


as he took a furtive look onto her many pastures


of pleasure and delight that had been so long in


coming along those nights of heat and white cold.




Her smooth chest deepened into that dark river


where his hand would soon drink of long awaited


pleasures. Soon, she stood by the mirror of his room,


in a black slip, smoothing the silk fabric over her breasts,


more perfect than anything he knew amidst his world of


paper and books. Soon, his hands ran where hands must


when such beauty offers itself on a dry desert and he took


his full as she gave what was her custom, what she knew best.


For she was alone in a universe of absurdity that was beyond


her understanding. And he was starving on that desert: partly


of his own making, partly destiny, partly an obscure reality that


would remain an unknown factor forever, clouded by the moment,


clouded by a taste of things done and things undone, a fragrance


soured with a bitter wine, bitter only because it was his life.




Ron Price


28 March 1997


___________________


That's all folks!



Posted on 2006/11/11 8:02


_________________
I have been married for 37 years. My wife is a Tasmanian, aged 58. We’ve had 3 children: ages in 2005-39, 35 and 28. I am 60, a Canadian who moved to Australia in 1971 and have written 3 books--all available on the internet. I retired from part-time ...


normal Re: Death Once Dead, there's No More Dieing Then-Shakespeare


Just popping in
Joined:
2005/9/17
From: George Town Tasmania Australia
Posts: 16
Apologies for the apostrophies, contractions and similar typographical errors. Bahaullah, the Founder of the Bahai Faith and the Bahai Faith must have all apostrophies left out or the result is visually impaired words.-Ron Price, 17 march 2007


Posted on 2007/3/16 11:59


_________________
I have been married for 37 years. My wife is a Tasmanian, aged 58. We’ve had 3 children: ages in 2005-39, 35 and 28. I am 60, a Canadian who moved to Australia in 1971 and have written 3 books--all available on the internet. I retired from part-time ...


normal Re: Death Once Dead, there's No More Dieing Then-Shakespeare

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Just popping in
Joined:
2005/9/17
From: George Town Tasmania Australia
Posts: 16
I write here of a larger context for grief and suffering:

"The idea of modern total war," writes sociologist Robert Nisbet, "was born in the famous decree of the National Convention, August 23, 1793." This decree resulted in the creation of a mass army, a citizen army, the first in human history in France. Karl von Clausewitz's book On War followed forty years after. Clausewitz wrote, according to Nisbet, "the single most influential book written in modern times on war" in the years 1817 to 1827. On War, a book on strategy and tactics, on the philosophy of war and the relation between society and the individual, was begun one hundred years before another book on war, a spiritual war, The Tablets of the Divine Plan. In 1793, too, Shaykh Ahmad left his home in Bahrain to begin the process of that spiritual, that total war, a war of quite a different character, characterized in those Tablets by what you might call 'a military metaphor.'-Ron Price with thanks to Robert Nisbet, The Social Philosophers: Community and Conflict in Western Thought, Heinemann, London, 1973, p.70.

Sharper than blades of steel
and hotter than summer heat,
placed somewhere inside,
pervasive, subtle, natural
as the weather, unassuming,
unobtrusive, you'd never know
or guess that this was war.
Reposing on that green,
Isle of Faithfulness
in that place of honour
in the central square,
a crystal concentrate
of exquiste power---
slowly the people came,
citizens from everywhere,
feeling its intolerable beauty,
growing accustomed to its ways.
This was no temperate, limited
engagement, no indecisive contest,
a gentle war, silent, you would not
have called it war or death, but life,
ideal forces, lordly confirmations,
rushing from hidden ramparts,
strong fortifications,
impregnable castles
razed to the ground,
unbeknownst,
the lines of the legions
breaking through,
breaking through.

1 October 2002

THE TUGS HAVE LEFT

In the first months of my pioneering experience, September to December 1962, I seemed to gravitate to solitude and introspection. There has been a vein of this tendency to the private throughout these past forty years. And now that I am retired from the world of employment, have far less community responsibilities than in earlier years and have developed a proclivity for writing poetry, I can give this predisposition to the solitary a full run with rich inner satisfactions. This morning I was reading about John Keats, Robert Owen and 'the war poets' and their propensity for isolation from other men. The feeling of great fellowship with the poets of history was a strong part of their inner attitude.

Keats, some say, was burnt up by his own imagination; Owen was destroyed by war; Hardy lost the little optimism he had left. Classical culture and Christianity were not enough for these poets, not enough to build their poetic philosophy upon. Many of these war poets died young. Many required a period of study, intercourse with kindred spirits and isolation. I have had my study, my intercourse with the poets of old and with everyday man; and I have had my isolation: now it is my pleasure to write. As Owen said in a letter to his mother: The tugs have left me. I feel a great swelling of the open sea taking my galleon. It's about time after forty years of pioneering. -Ron Price, Notes on the War Poets, Thornlie Campus SEMC, Thornlie WA, 1994.


This is a letter I will probably never mail(and I never did) but I must write it anyway to get a few things off my chest. I suppose what I write was precipitated by watching a recent movie Saving Private Ryan, starring Tom Hanks. The movie showed, possibly better than any has since movies started their journey a hundred years ago, the horror of war. With the aid of the best in sound technology and cinematography and a gripping storyline the eyes, the ears and the emotions were mixed and stirred as they never have before in a war movie. As is so often the case with film, description was wonderful; analysis was lacking. The audience was left, as it so often is, to figure out the whys and wherefores.

This letter, as a result of the intensity and emotion of the film, may be equally intense, overly emotive, over-the-top as they say in Australia. But I trust this letter will convey a slice of truth as did the movie. Some notes, some musical themes, in this poetic autobiography that I send in the form of booklets of poetry like this one, are created and played for the listening ear of a future reader whom I have in my mind


Posted on 2007/3/16 12:04


_________________
I have been married for 37 years. My wife is a Tasmanian, aged 58. We’ve had 3 children: ages in 2005-39, 35 and 28. I am 60, a Canadian who moved to Australia in 1971 and have written 3 books--all available on the internet. I retired from part-time ...


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