#a.s.j. tessimond

[shy-girl04]

The Lovers of Montparnasse (1958)

Excerpt from

First Meeting

When I first met you,

I knew that I had come at last home.

Home after wandering,

Home after long-puzzled searching,

Home after long being wind-born,

Wave-tossed, night-caught, long being lost.

And being with you was normal and needful

And natural as sleeping or waking.

And I was myself,

Who had never been wholly myself.

A. S. J. Tessimond

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

In whom death found no wounds to close,

In whom dust found no more than dust.

A.S.J. Tessimond

[nudeartpluspoetry]

"Music," by A.S.J. Tessimond

[whisperthatruns]

Empty Room

The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.

A. S. J. Tessimond

[llovelymoonn]

on inherited pain

a.s.j. tessimond the children look at the parents \\ peter doig girl in tree (2001) \\ futngina \\ ?? \\ bob’s burgers \\ chen chen chapter viii \\ @holly-warbs​ \\ ?? \\ louise glück the seven ages: “mother and child” 

kofi

[omegastation]

Went to Waterstones today and ended up buying two love poems anthologies. Of course, I am totally associating some of those poems with Mass Effect pairings. So I'm sharing. Sounds cringy? IDK, let's embrace it.

First there's Thom Gunn's first lines of “Tamer and Hawk” that reminds me of Shepard and Joker:

I thought I was so tough, But gentled at your hands, Cannot be quick enough To fly for you and show That when I go I go At your commands.

The rest of the poem is meh, but those lines are perfect for them.

The first lines of Sharon Olds' “True Love” is VERY Shakarian:

In the middle of the night, when we get up after making love, we look at each other in total friendship, we know so fully what the other has been doing. Bound to each other like soldiers coming out of a battle, (...)

Those two lines from Lord Byron's “When We Two Parted” strongly remind me of Aria/Nyreen: In secret we met - In silence, I grieve

but also this poem by Isobel Dixon called “Truce”, which contains only those two lines: You bury the hatchet. I'll bury my heart.

Edwin Muir's lines from “The Confirmation” feels very Shepard/Kaidan:

I in my mind had waited for this long, Seeing the false and searching for the true, Then found you as a traveller finds a place Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you, What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste, A well of water in a country dry, Or anything that's honest and good, an eye That makes the whole world seem bright.

A.S.J. Tessimond's “First meeting” is all about Ash/Kaidan to me:

When I first met you, I knew that I had come at last home. Home after wandering, Home after long-puzzled searching, Home after long being wind-born, Wave-tossed, night-caught, long being lost. And being with you was normal and needful And natural as sleeping or waking. And I was myself, Who had never been wholly myself. I was walking and talking And laughing easily at last. And the air was softer, And sounds were sharper, And colours were brighter, And the sky was higher, And length was not measured by milestones, And time was not measured by clocks. And this end was a beginning, And these words are the beginning - Of my thanks.

Caroline Norton's first lines of “I do not love thee!” feels a lot like Tali's pov regarding Legion:

I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee! And yet when thou art absent I am sad;   And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

Simon Armitage's “Let me put it this way” reminds me of M!Shepard/Steve:

Let me put it this way: if you came to lay

your sleeping head against my arm or sleeve,

and if my arm went dead, or if I had to take my leave

at midnight, I should rather cleave it from the joint or seam

than make a scene or bring you round.

There, how does that sound?

“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot is one of my favorites. Those lines make me think it could be from Liara’s pov about Shepard (especially before and after the Lazarus Project):

There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

and

Do I dare Disturb the universe?

“Come. And Be My Baby” by Maya Angelou: last lines are so F!Shepard/Sam from Sam's POV:

Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow But others say we’ve got a week or two The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror And you sit wondering What you’re gonna do. I got it. Come. And be my baby.

“Words, Wide Night” by Carol Ann Duffy: entirely Jack/Shepard

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night and the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross to reach you. For I am in love with you

and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.

and I'm going to end with E.E. Cummings (always my favorite) with the classic 'i carry your heart with me (i carry it in)' which is all about Shepard/Miranda to me:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)                                                      i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

[whatisluniana]

Day 1 of the Halloween Scavenger Hunt - Broom

Someone decided they needed to help.  

Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, Offer no angles to the wind They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes Less than themselves; will not be pinned

-A.S.J. Tessimond

[outsiderlookinginward]

Cats – by someone less well known than T.S. Eliot

Cats – by someone less well known than T.S. Eliot

One of the 20th century’s great English poets, A.S.J. Tessimond’s work was rediscovered in the 1970s and has since received great acclaim. (more…)

[i-am-an-egg-dance-company-blog]

"...And people will unite themselves, as string is unknotted.." Using A.S.J Tessimond's 'Daydream' as inspiration to create movement

[fredricbadmann]

Pity us, Us the unloved, unlovely and unloving, Half-loving a cat, our morning tea, jewels in a trunk, Warmth and a little ease. Pity our too much peace; Our absence of release; Our long days falling without cease; Us who have missed and still at moments know we miss Life’s bonfire and his kiss.

A.S.J. Tessimond, “The lonely women in hotel lounges”, Morning Meeting

[nudeartpluspoetry]

"Music," by A.S.J. Tessimond

fine poem about music in general

Tessimond: Enlgish poet, 1902-1962

His collected poems available from Bloodaxe Books (2010), via amazon.com, etc. 

[whisperthatruns]

Latterday Oracles: Noise

Listen to me and you will not need to listen To your own voice thin as a shred of paper uncurling, Your laughter empty and brittle as an eggshell: Your thoughts thrown back in your teeth by the cynical wind. You will not hear the diffidence of breath, The importunacy of blood, denying death, The pulse's halt and start, The morse code of the heart, Or your two hands whispering together, unquiet as air-stirred leaves. Listen to me and you will not need to listen. I am your rampart against silence, time, And all the gods with empty arms, and eyes Cold as mirrors, cold and white with questions.

A. S. J. Tessimond

[blueeyedennis]

One Almost Might

One Almost Might Wouldn't you say, Wouldn't you say: one day, With a little more time or a little more patience, one might Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delight One of the moment's hundred strands, unfray Beginnings from endings, this from that, survey Say a square inch of the ground one stands on, touch Part of oneself or a leaf or a sound (not clutch Or cuff or bruise but touch with finger-tip, ear- Tip, eyetip, creeping near yet not too near); Might take up life and lay it on one's palm And, encircling it in closeness, warmth and calm, Let it lie still, then stir smooth-softly, and Tendril by tendril unfold, there on one's hand . . . One might examine eternity's cross-section For a second, with slightly more patience, more time for reflection? A. S. J. Tessimond, The Walls of Glass (1934).

[theycallmecatalyst]

Cats

Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, Offer no angles to the wind, They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes Less than themselves; will not be pinned To rules or routes for journeys; counter- Attack with non-resistance; twist Enticing through the curving fingers And leave an angered, empty fist. They wait, obsequious as darkness, Quick to retire, quick to return; Admit no aims or ethics; flatter With reservations; will not learn To answer to their name; are seldom Truly owned till shot and skinned. Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, Off no angles to the wind. -A. S. J. Tessimond

[sparklingbookofmatches]

DAY DREAM

One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily,

And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight,

And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted,

Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers,

Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea.

And work will be simple and swift as a seagull flying,

And play will be casual and quiet as a seagull settling,

And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder or care or notice,

And people will smile without reason, 

Even in winter, even in the rain.

 - A.S.J. Tessimond

[exceptindreams]

Day Dream | A.S.J. Tessimond

"Day Dream" A. S. J. Tessimond One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily, And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight, And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted, Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers, Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea, And work will be simple and swift as a seagull flying, And play will be casual and quiet as a seagull settling, And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder or care or notice, And people will smile without reason, Even in winter, even in the rain.