Before the squall

Stevenson beach, by Dylan Walker. Wonderfully dramatic image for today.

  
The wind is rising on the sea, 
The windy white foam-dancers leap; 
And the sea moans uneasily, 
And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep. 

Ridge after rocky ridge uplifts, 
Wild hands, and hammers at the land, 
Scatters in liquid dust, and drifts 
To death among the dusty sand. 

On the horizon’s nearing line, 
Where the sky rests, a visible wall, 
Grey in the offing, I divine, 
The sails that fly before the squall. 

Before the squall (Arthur Symons)

Stress Reliever

Got this yesterday, to rediscover my inner artist and to help me unwind. And it seems to fit with this poem called Colour, by Christina Rossetti.

  

What is pink? a rose is pink 
By a fountain’s brink. 
What is red? a poppy’s red 
In its barley bed. 
What is blue? the sky is blue 
Where the clouds float thro’. 
What is white? a swan is white 
Sailing in the light. 
What is yellow? pears are yellow, 
Rich and ripe and mellow. 
What is green? the grass is green, 
With small flowers between. 
What is violet? clouds are violet 
In the summer twilight. 
What is orange? Why, an orange, 

Just an orange!

Harbourside

Today’s picture is Peter Ribbeck’s wonderful shot of Ardrossan harbour.

  
Becalmed upon the sea of Thought,
Still unattained the land it sought,
My mind, with loosely-hanging sails,
Lies waiting the auspicious gales.

On either side, behind, before,
The ocean stretches like a floor,–
A level floor of amethyst,
Crowned by a golden dome of mist.

Blow, breath of inspiration, blow!
Shake and uplift this golden glow!
And fill the canvas of the mind
With wafts of thy celestial wind.

Blow, breath of song! until I feel
The straining sail, the lifting keel,
The life of the awakening sea,
Its motion and its mystery!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (In the Harbour: Becalmed)