the folding cliffs

anonymous asked:

I love your page, the writings you reblog in particular are very inspiring and beautiful. I'm always looking for new books to read! I'm a lyricist, what poetry or readings do you think could help me improve phrasing/rhyming and my story telling!?!

Thank you very much! I would say that you could learn through successful examples of poetic story-telling. In that case, here are my recommendations:

Transformations, Anne Sexton
The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories, Angela Carter
Hadestown, Anaïs Mitchell (album, texts)
Hozier, Hozier (album, texts)
If You Leave, Daughter (album, texts)
Down The Way, Angus and Julia Stone (album, texts)
Poet in New York, Leonard Cohen (album, texts)
Prometheus Unbound, Percy Bysshe Shelley
Gypsy Ballads, Federico García Lorca
Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson
Metamorphoses, Ovid
The Life of Mary, Rainer Maria Rilke
The World’s Wife, Carol Ann Duffy
Memorial, Alice Oswald
The Afternoon of a Faun, Stéphane Mallarmé
Flowers of Evil, Charles Baudelaire
The Sovereign Sun, Odysseus Elytis
A Guide to Folktales, Catherynne Valente
The Anthropology of Water, Anne Carson
The Wild Iris, Louise Glück
Crush, Richard Siken
The Folding Cliffs, M. S. Merwin

Those are what comes first to mind. I hope you like them!

I have left the house many times embittered, and returned smiling and better able to be generous to those who have caused me pain, whilst appreciating more keenly that I am no different in my capacity to do the same. I also leave the house never quite knowing what I am about to encounter, what I will see, hear, smell; there is nothing perhaps as calming as a still summer’s day—but it can be that only if I can accept its gift.

And if there is nothing so melancholic as a sheep standing alone in the rain, there is something so renewing about clouds that pass and leave in their wake a shining new world. Once I am able to see it, to enter the state of wonder, the division between myself and the distant folding land, the cliffs and the dead leaves is dissolved; this state of communion is one of the most profound gifts that walking can give.

The reason why so many of us walk is that we return home stilled and renewed but, most of all, we have allowed ourselves, however fleetingly, to wonder—and that, perhaps, is the food the gods are feasting on.
— 

Peter Owen Jones.

About taking walks.