Hooded Night

At night, toward dawn, all the lights of the shore have died,
And the wind moves. Moves in the dark
The sleeping power of the ocean, no more beastlike than manlike,
Not to be compared; itself and itself.
Its breath blown shoreward huddles the world with a fog; no stars
Dance in heaven; no ship’s light glances.
I see the heavy granite bodies of the rocks of the headland,
That were ancient here before Egypt had pyramids,
Bulk on the gray of the sky, and beyond them the jets of young trees
I planted the year of the Versailles peace.
But here is the final unridiculous peace. Before the first man
Here were the stones, the ocean, the cypresses,
And the pallid region in the stone-rough dome of fog where the moon
Falls on the west. Here is reality.
The other is a spectral episode: after the inquisitive animal’s
Amusements are quiet: the dark glory. 

–By Robinson Jeffers–

Ever run across a person that is no longer alive that wrote poems or literature or philosophy that hits home?  I have had such experience several times…wish they occured more frequently…but most of those dead authors are from long long ago.  This guy Jeffers…lived and observed his surrounding not too far in the distant past…in fact he saw much of what we see today…except he was alive during the peak of our Empire. His life and poetry really hits home with me.  Perhaps because I spent much time on the California coast…in particular Pebble Beach and Carmel…where he built his own house with his own hands…and wrote much of his powerful poetry.  Perhaps because he was molded…like me to a lesser and more vague sense…by Ancient Greek and Roman thought.  Perhaps…because I believe like he did there is so much we can learn from nature and the inanimate…the immense concept of geological time…the “Inhumane” aspect of the entire vast and infinite universe around us.  I do rebel against this very very intelligent man and still hold out hope for mankind…but I fully disclose that I am both ignorant and naive.  Most of my senses say we aren’t going to make it.  I hope you enjoyed this short poem…he has lots more:)

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8 thoughts on “Hooded Night

    • Enjoyed it…I guess that is one option…jump in the river and swim like hell in the direction of the flow. My mind often tries to swim the other direction…not so easy.

    • Ahhh…someone else who knows him:) I will re-read that poem…in fact..that sounds like a good idea right about now…sleep. Thanks for stopping by beautyanddreams.

  1. I did enjoy that poem. I have studied some ancient literature and it always amazes me how similar we are through our cultural and chronological barriers. I have always been trained to find a way to sympathize with anyone and everyone, and I truly do see myself in each person somewhere, but sometimes we can reach through the ages and touch a moment in someone’s life that we identify so well with…that was my experience when I first encountered Edgar Allan Poe’s work. I didn’t like poetry much at the time, then suddenly the words reached out to me from my own soul…

    • You…Vampire Weather…are a better person than me…I don’t always have sympathy for some people…especially those that perpetuate insanity:) Thanks for dropping by and glad you like Jeffers…

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