I have in mind another book, co-authored by Lewis, titled The Personal Heresy, and these words regarding how much we may know or learn of the poet, personally...
"Let it be granted that I do approach the poet; at least I do it by sharing his consciousness, not by studying it. I look with his eyes, not at him. He, for the moment, will be precisely what I do not see; for you can see any eyes rather than the pair you see with, and if you want to examine your own glasses you must take them off your own nose. The poet is not a man who asks me to look at him; he is a man who says ‘look at that’ and points; the more I follow the pointing of his finger the less I can possibly see of him."
I don't even know what to say. At first, I thought he couldn't enter because of sin, but now I know there is a deeper meaning. Let's all do what we can while we are alive.
A haunting poem for my heart, almost alien to my family. In every war America has been in starting with the French& Indian War one or more, usually more, of my family has fought. The only one to die was in the Revolution in the Battle of Kings Mountain. Closest to death recently was my middle son who was MIA 14 days in the 2003 Iraq mess. When he finished his Marine tour he became an Army air mobile combat medic and retired after 20 years service. His older brother was with 1st Cav and just retired as a Major. I was with an Army hospital unit. There is no explanation for the fortuitous results over the last 200+ years of carnage.
I'm haunted by the unfulfilled longing of a dead soldier who can't reach his beloved
Synchronicity. I am just reading a WWII poetry collection, all nations, with Lewis included. Very fine. "Second World War Poems".
My favourite? For a long time, Herbert Reed's "Naming of Parts". It's sublime
https://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/naming-of-parts
I have in mind another book, co-authored by Lewis, titled The Personal Heresy, and these words regarding how much we may know or learn of the poet, personally...
"Let it be granted that I do approach the poet; at least I do it by sharing his consciousness, not by studying it. I look with his eyes, not at him. He, for the moment, will be precisely what I do not see; for you can see any eyes rather than the pair you see with, and if you want to examine your own glasses you must take them off your own nose. The poet is not a man who asks me to look at him; he is a man who says ‘look at that’ and points; the more I follow the pointing of his finger the less I can possibly see of him."
This reminds me so much of "Love Vigilantes" by Iron & Wine.
https://open.spotify.com/track/5HZzpDN7X3Z5s8iUwe0CQu?si=3uNPSwz1SXy5heUDH3Y0iQ
One of the most amazing authors !!!
Very interesting rhyme scheme. I had to look it up. A villanelle.
❤️❤️❤️❤️
Already the metaphysical Lewis, washed clean by the redemption that was to come his way years later.
Inspiring
Glorious. What a huge soul Lewis had. And eloquent in all he wrote
Thank you 🙏
I don't even know what to say. At first, I thought he couldn't enter because of sin, but now I know there is a deeper meaning. Let's all do what we can while we are alive.
A haunting poem for my heart, almost alien to my family. In every war America has been in starting with the French& Indian War one or more, usually more, of my family has fought. The only one to die was in the Revolution in the Battle of Kings Mountain. Closest to death recently was my middle son who was MIA 14 days in the 2003 Iraq mess. When he finished his Marine tour he became an Army air mobile combat medic and retired after 20 years service. His older brother was with 1st Cav and just retired as a Major. I was with an Army hospital unit. There is no explanation for the fortuitous results over the last 200+ years of carnage.