Saturday, 5 February 2011
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Robert Tressell (nee Croker/Noonan) 17/ 4/1870- 3/2/11. A Ragged Trousered Philanthropist.
One hundred days ago today Robert Tressell died aged 41 of tuberculosis.His book 'the ragged trousered philanthropist' still gives me inspiration. It has been a primary influence on a lot of my outlook. A powerful book that to this day still has social significance, still has relevance.A story of the most important struggle in history, the struggle between the underprivileged and their oppressors. So on this day I remember him with this extract. May his words continue to echoe on down through the years. If you haven't read it I strongly recommend that you do. Essential.
" Poverty is not caused by men and women getting married; it's not caused by machinery; it's not caused by 'over-production'; it is not caused by drink or laziness; and it is not caused by 'over population'. It is caused by Private Monopoly. That is the present system. They have monopolised everything that it is possible to monopolize; they have got the whole earth, the minerals in the earth and the streams that water the earth.The only reason they have not monopolised the daylight and the air is that it it is not possible to do it. If it were possible to construct huge gasometers and to draw together and compress within them the whole atmosphere, it would have been done long ago, and we should have been compelled to work for them in order to get money to buy air to breathe. And if that seemingly impossible thing were accomplished tomorrow, you would see thousands of people dying for want of air - or of the money to buy it - even as now thousands are dying for want of the other necessities of life. You would see people going about gasping for breath, and telling each other that the likes of them could not expect to have air to breathe unless they had the money to pay for it. Most of you here, for instance, would think and say so. Even as you think at present that it is right for so few people to own the Earth, the Minerals and the Water, which are all just as necessary as is the air. In exactly the same spirit as you now say: "It's their Land," "It's their Water," " It's their Coal,"
"It's Their Iron," so you would say "It'sTheir Air," "These are their gasometers, and what right have the likes of us to expect them to allow us to breathe for nothing? And even while he is doing that the air monopolist will be preaching sermons on the Brotherhood of Man; he will be dispenscing advice on "Christian Duty" in the Sunday magazines; he will give utterance to numerous more or less moral maxims for the guidance of the yound. And meantime, all around, people will be dying for want of some of the air tht he will have bottled up in his gasometers. And whn you are all dragging out a miserable existence, gasping for breath or dying for want of air, if one of your number suggests smshing a hole in the side of the gasometers, you will all fall upon him in the name of law and order, and after doing your best to tear him limb from limb, you will drg him, covered with blood, in triumph to the nearest Police Station and deliver him up to "justice," in the hope of being given a few half-pounds of air for your trouble."
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
St Brides' Day: Imbolc, the Celtic feast of Spring's awakening.
On a brighter note today is St Bride's day, it was after her that we named our daughter ( Bridget) . St Brigid or Bride of Kildare is said to have helped the Virgin give birth to Jesus - whence she is the protector of pregnant women and midwives - and to have kept Mary's cows, whence her title of 'Christs Milkmaid'.
The saint's pagan namesake and predecessor, the Celtic goddess Brigit, was also associated with fertility, childbirth, and cattle. On her feast day - which is also the Gaelic spring festival of Imbolc or Imbolg - Highland girls made the 'Last Sheaf' of the previous harvest into images of her, which were laid in a decorated cradle called 'Bride's Bed'.
This is the day of Bride
The Queen will come from the Mound
This is the day of Bride
The serpent will come from the hole.
On this mystic day adders were beleved to abandon their winter lairs: and the oyster-catcher birds - called in Gaelic Gille Brighde, ' the servants of Bride' - made their appearance, bringing Spring with them.
So on this day Imbolc blessings. Ok daughter. From now on Spring awakes.New hope new light. Things moving onwards in the outer world and in our hearts, starting afresh with renewed purpose and fresh possibillities. Take it easy now. Unless that is your part of a revolution that happens to be occuring , then salute.Onwards and upwards.
Monday, 31 January 2011
Will Palestine march? The tyrant exists only in the imagination of his subjects- Tamim Al- Barghouti.
Some of us are witnessing the beginniing of regime change in Tunisia and Egypt. ( I say some of us because the major news channels in the US are not reporting the massive Egyptian uprising) This is not the 'regime change' so beloved by our governments workong covertly behind their chosen despots and dictators who disenfranchise their own people and keep them in poverty and humiliation. The people on the streets in Tunisia and Egypt are not lookung for palaces and wealth. They are marching for the universal values of justice and human rights; the right not to be tortured by their own police; the right to freedom of expression; dignity and the right to choose their own leaders fair and square.
The price of food is rising. An income of $2 a day allows no room for manouvre. All over the world forests and peatlands are being ripped up to provide plantations, not for food, but for fuel to satiate the ever growing demand for energy for industry and 3 car families who will not comprehend their own greed.
$2 dollars a day is the average Egyption income. In Gaza where there is over 60%unemplyment ( due to the obliteration of Industry by the IDF) there is barely any money at all. The Palestinian Papers have served to highlight the truth we already knew - that the PA was just another western puppet, bought off and toeing the delinuwnt Zionist line.
Egypt recieves rhe second highest monetary handout, after Israel, from the US. Egypt is the puppet of America and the people will have a hard time effecting change. They know this, and their bravery is all the more remarkable because of it. Without the compliance of Egypt the Palestinians could not be kept under siege, and it is this way because our governments conspire to make it this way. The US conspires with the UN to announce the illegality of sttlements, bombings, massacres, siege and destruction, yet ensures that each of these things can happen by funding them all. Nothing is achieved except bloodshed. Rhere was no peace process. Ordinary citizens are taking to the streets and it is entirely possible that Palestinians, so badly let down by those purprting to represent them, will follow. The 7.6 million Palestinian refugees could march. The door is opening. The borders are creaking. Would Israel massacre 7.6 million people walking peacefully back to their homes, or are the thrd generation refugees so snug in their cocoon not worth the risk to life and linb after all. This may be their only chance. Public opinion os on the side of the oppressed.
Israel wants the world to forget that the right of millions of Palestinian refugees to return to the place from which they fled is enshrined in international law. The right of return is a Right. They do not need permission.
Tamim Al-Barghouti is a Palestinian poet. He is currently a visiting professor at Georgetown Univerity's Centre for Contemporary Arab Studies.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
JOSE MANUEL PINTADO - INHERITANCE
Because you began to learn
that love is to blood and fire a war for freedom
for the poem marching among us
leaving fractures & losses on the bed of battle
it would be better to start over.
Our sheets still smell of fresh gunpowder
and thunder trembles in our ears.
That's why I walk the streets
of every city, town, village
the highway crosses
with you always very much within
the magnificent beast we were
leaving behind in this world
now throwing us out of its paradise.
But we also inherit a whole earth
with hoes and seeds
from where wildflowers bloom
to the fragment of world that is ours to share
without fur on the heart
in the middle of a solitary rain.
translated by John Oliver Simon
from Peace or Perish
Acrisis Anthology/Poets for Peace 1983.
Friday, 28 January 2011
SOLIDARITY WITH THE PEOPLE OF EGYPT.
The Brutality of Mubarek's regime has been rejected,but tear gazzing and shooting continues.Inshallah Egypt shall soon be free. Ordinary people all over the world are now taking to the streets. People have decided which side they are on, on the side of the oppressed.Regime changes not always dictated by corporate or foreign powers.
In the meantime
write or phone the Egyptian Embassy in London and ask your M.P to support the protestors and do everything they can do to lift communication restrictions and stop a massacre. No to dictators.
All born free, and yesterday what was far away comes nearer, sometimes negotiations have to stop, indifference does not protect. Dignity never surrenders, dignity resists, in the name of unity, freedom and justice, with different voices we become one.
LINK FOR CONTACTING EGYPTIAN EMBASSY AND M.P AT BOTTOM.
http://noshockdoctrine.iparl.com/lobby/52Tuesday, 25 January 2011
A Prayer to St Dwynwen - Dafydd ap Gwilym
Picture Of St Dwynwen
Today here in Wales is St Dwynwen's day the Welsh Patron Saint of Lovers,Dwynwen
lived in the fifth century and like so many popular old tales there are
several versions of her story. It is said that Dwynwen was the daughter
of a Welsh king called Brychan Brycheiniog and came from Brecon. Some
accounts say that Brychan had 24 daughters while others claim he had 36.
Dwynwen was considered to be the most beautiful of them all - so quite
an honour!
Dwynwen
fell in love with Maelon, the son of another king. They wanted to get
married but her father had other ideas. Brychan Brycheiniog had already
arranged for Dwynwen to marry someone else. Dwynwen ran to the forest,
distraught, and prayed to God to release her from love. An angel came to
visit her and gave her a potion to make her forget about Maelon and to
turn him to ice. After this, God appeared to her and gave her three
wishes.
First, Dwynwen wished that Maelon was thawed.
Secondly, she wished that God would help all true lovers.
Finally, she wished that she would never be married.
After
the wishes were granted Dwynwen became a nun and established a convent
on an island. The island, Ynys Llanddwyn, is just off the coast of
Anglesey. 'Ynys' means island in Welsh, 'Llan' means 'church' and
'dwyn' comes from the name 'Dwynwen'.
According
to the story, there was a fish, who lived in a well near the church,
that could predict the future of couples. If a couple went there and the
water bubbled then the couple would have good luck. As a result the
church and well became a place of pilgrimage in the middle ages. The ruins of the convent can still be seen on the island.
To mark St Dwynwen's day I thought I'd post a poem dedicated to her by Dafydd ap Gwilym. His poems were so fine that all the bards of his day called him their chief bard, and today is looked upon as the greatest Welsh poet of all times. He lived probably from 1320 to 1380 and it is thought that he was born in the village of Brogynin, Penrhyncoch, Wales, Cardiganshire or what is now known as Ceredigion here in West Wales.
He became a traveller wandering from place to place and was welcomed everywhere because of his great gifts as a bard. It is possible he heard the Norman minstrels sing their songs of love in the English courts, and that he was so struck by their charm, that he decided to sing the praises to the lovely maidens and noble princes of his own country. His poems won the hearts of maidens and the lords became his patrons. It is natural that some poets were jealous of his fame, and there were many bitter quarrels with his rivals.
It is difficult to give an English reader an idea of the beauty of his work. He composed in forms unknown to the English poet until recently in the cywydd metre .Trained in the Welsh bardic tradition, Dafydd ap Gwilym wrote
predominantly in rhymed couplets, with the compound expressions and
complex syntax that mark medieval Welsh poetry. His poems feature
variations on the cynghanedd, a Welsh form using consonantal echo, and
often rhyme, within the unit of the line. The form gave a musical rhythm to the poem that was more suitable to the Welsh Language.
They have incredible power and a lot of people say that to truly understand them one must read his poems in the language that they were written.
In his poems he was able to charm the nightingale, the blackbird and the swallow into telling him their secrets. He conversed with nature and bid her reveal her mysteries. He could win the love of women and at the same time the admiration of men. He brought all things under the spell of his muse. He hated anything false but admired all that is beautiful, whether in forest glade and flower, or in the lovely form of a maiden. His poetry, notable for its vivid imagery, is at turns erotic, comic,
and thoughtful in its exploration of love and the natural world. So on this day here's his prayer to St Dwynwen. Whatever your religious convictions it's still pretty powerful stuff. Hope you enjoy it. For the Lovers, heddwch,Peace
Dwynwen deigr arien degwch,
Da y gwyr o gor fflamgwyr fflwch
Dy ddelw aur diddoluriaw
Digion druain ddynion draw
Dyn a wylio gloywdro glan,
Yn dy gor, Indeg eirian,
Nid oes glefyd na bryd brwyn
A el ynddo o Landdwyn.
Dy laesblaid yw dy lwysblwyf,
Dolurus ofalus wyf;
Y frn hon o hoed gordderch
Y sydd yn unchwydd o serch;
Hirwayw o sail gofeiliant,
Herwydd oy gwn, hwn yw haint,
Oni chaf, o byddaf byw
Forfudd, Llyna oferfyw
Gwna fi'n iach, weddusach wawd,
O'm anwychder a'm nychdawd.
Cymysg lateirwydd flwyddyn
A rhadau Duw rhod a dyn.
Nid rhaid, ddelw euraid ddilyth,
Yt ofn pechawd, fethgnawd fyth.
Nid adwna, da ei dangef,
Duw a wnaeth, nid ei o nef.
Ni'th wyl mursen eleni
Yn hustyng yn yng a ni.
Ni rydd Eiddig ddig ddyngnbwyll
War ffon i ti, wyry ei phwyll.
Tyn, o'th obr, taw, ni thybir
Wrthyd, wyry gymhlegyd hir,
O landdwyn, dir gynired,
I Gwm-y-gro, gem y Gred.
Duw ni'th omeddawdd, hawdd hedd,
Dawn iaith aml, dyn ni'th omedd.
Diamau weddiau waith,
Duw a'th eilw, duw ei thalaith.
Delid Duw, dy letywr,
Del i gof, dwylaw a gwr,
Traws oedd y neb a'i trisai,
Dwynwen, pes parud unwaith
Dan wydd Mai a hirddydd maith,
Dawn ei bardd, da, wen, y bych;
Dwynwen, nid oeddud anwych
Dangos o'th radau dawngoeth
Nad wyd fursen, Ddwynwen ddoeth.
Er a wnaethost yn ddawbwys
O benyd y byd a'i bwys;
Er y crefydd, ffydd ffyddryw,
A wnaethost tra fuost fyw;
Er y eirian leianaeth
A wwyrfdawd y coethgnawd caeth;
Er enaid, os rhaid y rhawg,
Brychan Yrth breichiau nerthawg;
Eiriol, er dy greuol gred,
Ar em Wyry roi ymwared.
Dwynwen, your beauty like the hoar-fros's tears:
from your chancel with its blazing waxen candles
well does your golden image know
how to assuage the griefs of wretched men.
What a man so ever would keep vigil in your choir
(a holy, shining pilgrimage), (you with) Inded's radiance,
there is no sickness nor heart's sorrow
which he would carry with him thence from LLanddwyn.
Your holy parish is your straggling flock:
(a man) sorrowful and worn with care I am;
because of longing for my mistress
my heart is swollen with love,
deep pangs grounded in anxiety,
as well I know - this is my malady-
unless I can win Morfudd
if I remain alive, it is but life in vain.
Make me be healed, you most deserving of all praise,
from my infirmity and feebleness.
as well as mediatrix of God's grace to man.
There is no need for you, unfailing golden image,
to be afraid of sin, the body's ever-present snare.
God does not undo what he has once done,
good is his peaceful disposition, you will not fall from heaven.
No coquette will observe you now this year
whispering with us in a narrow corner.
No angry Jealous one, cruel minded,
will put a cudgel to your back chaste-minded one.
Come of your kindness - quiet, you will not be suspect,
Virgin of enduring sympathy,
from Llanddwyn, a place of great resort,
to Cwm-y-gro, you gem of Christendom.
God has not withheld from you easy to be reconciled,
the gift of ample speech, nor will man reject you.
Unquestionably to the work of prayer
God calls you black you wimple.
May God, your host restain
the two hands of that man - may there be recalled
the violence of the person who would ravish her
when she would follow me through the leaves of May.
Dwynwen, if you would once cause
under May's trees, and in long summer days
her poet's reward - fair one, you would be good,
for, Dwynwen, you were never base.
Prove, by your gifts of splendid grace
that you are no prim virgin, prudent Dwynwen.
Because of the penance that you did
through goodness, for the world, and its significance,
because of the devotions that you kept,
while you were alive, the faith of all those of religious kind,
because of the true dedication of a nun,
and the virginity of the fair captive flesh
for the soul's sake - if it be needful now-
of Brychan with the powered strong arms-
implore, by the agony caused by your faith,
of the sweet Virgin to deliver me.
FROM:-
Selected Poems of Daffyd Ap Gwilym
Translated by Rachel Bromwich
Penguin Books 1985
An earlier post on St Dwynwens day can be found here.https://teifidancer-teifidancer.blogspot.com/2010/01/st-dwynwens-day-welsh-patron-saint-of.html
Dafydd ap Gwilym by W. Wheatley Wagstaff. Marble. City Hall, Cardiff.
Monday, 24 January 2011
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