I am not waiting, no
The red thrush fathoms not our measures
Of days and stars, neither does
The boulder turn from falling
Off the precipice
I am no longer on the mountain
Nor in the plains below
I am not waiting, no
The red thrush fathoms not our measures
Of days and stars, neither does
The boulder turn from falling
Off the precipice
I am no longer on the mountain
Nor in the plains below
There must be
a longing for adventure
There must be
a longing for the sea
I waited where
you never thought to enter
I ran the sun
around a trinity
So I leave you
a sand’s spill from the ocean
I leave you
your still and tidy wings
There is the sound
of drifting silver fountains
And with the dawn
a distant bell will ring
Let the night
renew a course and chapter
Lest the earth
grow warm beneath my feet
For there must be
a longing for adventure
There must be
a longing for the sea
~
Elizabeth Cook, 2015
Temple drums
and fragrant roses
lend their weight
to each grain of rice
on the batsudan
~
Excerpt from Orison
Elizabeth Cook, 2015
127 pages, dozens of hectic emails, millions of observations, 4 Censuses of Population and 1 National Household Survey (NHS) later, and still I could give you the findings of my paper in a few points. Consequently, I somewhat resent this culmination of my degree, which ran to more than twice its recommended length.
In 1986, 36.9% of Canadian women did not have a high school diploma.
By 2011 only 8.9% of Canadian women did not have a high school diploma.
At least there are some interesting insights into how some things in Canada have changed between 1986 and 2011. I examined the individual files of women from these censuses and the NHS, and on their files, the number of children in their census family.
From 1986 to 2011, the portion of women with college degrees rose from 27.5% to 38.7%.
I’m going to spend some time on voodoo rituals to gain the goodwill of my unknown grader, who will suddenly receive 127 pages (a good 77 more pages than he/she would have likely anticipated) of unfamiliar tosh which simply works toward articulating those 6 points. And although those points form my Conclusion, I found the little facts in italics to be more interesting than the meat and potatoes of my work. It’s the small things, right?
Between 1986 and 2011 the portion of women with degrees above the Bachelor’s level rose from 3.5% to 10.6%.
I hope this essay chokes on my dust as I fly to Japan.
With the tail end of twilight, descent by chance
Down into my valley, I notice your steps
You a traveler footsore with your hem in the dust
Seeking safe rest, in grass dry or lush
–
At the base of the slope, under the apple tree
You lay down your pack and drop to your knees
And from within my marsh I dart and I drift
In watching you, stranger, with keen interest
The first to pass through in a seeming age
A bell on your belt, and your cloak an array
Of patches and colours that speak of far places
Of roads well-worn and of roads that wait Continue reading “Will-o’-the-wisp”
Achanae, in sheer golds and greens
Do you still linger there for me?
Your palla the colours of your isle
Your promise to bide, if for a while
–
Whilst I wander ever south and west
At whim and wonder’s soft behest
With they two lovers, surely you know
Any return to your isle must be slow
–
Yet of you, Achanae, I often think
Upon rising and laying down to sleep
Of golds and greens amid olive trees
And of dark tresses left long and free Continue reading “For Achanae”
Chased through the day by Arabian knights
From the dunes to a dock, to a deck I alight
One of sweet solid beams and sails like gold
In the catching of the sun, noon-high and bold
And with a creak of the keel out we sail
As I dance up the rigging, a spiderweb trail Continue reading “On the Wing”
| Heart on Fire |
Thoughts, Stories, Poems
Un poème n'est jamais fini, seulement abandonné. A poem is never finished, only abandoned."Paul Valéry"
The Poetry of Emotion
Read on, it's good for the brain.
Scientist by day 🌞 poet by night🌛// business inquiries: huffinesc16@students.ecu.edu
My Own Paradise: Life on Seven and a Half Acres
A Complete Circle, An Oracle’s Virtue