Red Bat Photography
Folksonomy > dancers
October 8th, 2011

This post is Part 3 of a 3-part series. Read Part 1Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

Since these photos are of events taking place at a winery, I felt it was important to give you some love poetry about wine. I’d forgotten about this poem until I ran across it today. It was written by the amazing Billy Collins for his wife.

Please note the appearance in this post of yet another stellar bouquet toss photo by Patrick. How does he do it?

LITANY

Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.

October 1st, 2011

This post is Part 2 of a 2-part series. Read Part 1 – Read Part 2

You know you want to read a poem right now.

At Amber and Sam’s wedding reception, everyone was crammed inside because of the rain and the rooms were all full of laughter and dancing. I’m not sure exactly why this Rilke poem seems to me to fit so well with my memory of that day. I think it’s because of the invocation of the divine in the ceremony, followed by the exuberance and intimacy of the reception. They chose bright colors for their wedding and they didn’t care if it rained and the toasts were funny and honest. I don’t know, maybe you had to be there but in any case this poem is great and it will give you something to think about while these photos load.

God Speaks to Each of Us

Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us before we are,
Before he’s formed us — then, in cloudy speech,
But only then, he speaks these words to each
And silently walks with us from the dark:

Driven by your senses, dare
To the edge of longing. Grow
Like a fire’s shadowcasting glare
Behind assembled things, so you can spread
Their shapes on me as clothes.
Don’t leave me bare.

Let it all happen to you: beauty and dread.
Simply go — no feeling is too much —
And only this way can we stay in touch.

Near here is the land
That they call Life.
You’ll know when you arrive
By how real it is.

Give me your hand.