Muhammad Asif Raza 3 months ago

Muhammad Asif Raza #education

…of emotions and feelings of love and otherwise?

Emotions are sensations in physical sense and feelings generate from the thoughts about those emotions. We can say that feelings are the words which we give to our emotions to interpret our moods. The month of January is the beginning of year and it awakes hope for the best in future. This write up is a summarized attempt in the same way.

The God of Love By George MacBeth

The musk-ox is accustomed to near-Arctic conditions. When danger threatens, these beasts cluster together to form a defensive wall, or a “porcupine”, with the calves in the middle. – Dr Wolfgang Engelhart

The poem, “The God of Love”, is an eye-witness account, "I found them," with authority about the herd of musk-oxen.

The poem's dominant religious symbol is prefigured early on in the image of the "ark of horn". The ark is static, enshrining the sacred.

The Scottish poet's tragic ode to a herd of musk oxen unfolds as a warning against defensive masculinist values۔

I found them between far hills, by a frozen lake.

On a patch of bare ground. They were grouped

In a solid ring, like an ark of horn. And around

Them circled, slowly closing in,

Their tongues lolling, their ears flattened against the wind,

A whirlpool of wolves. As I breathed, one fragment of bone and

Muscle detached itself from the mass and

Plunged. The pad of the pack slackened, as if

A brooch had been loosened. But when the bull

Returned to the herd, the revolving collar was tighter. And only

The windward owl, uplifted on white wings

In the glass of air, alert for her young,

Soared high enough to look into the cleared centre

And grasp the cause. To the slow brain

Of each beast by the frozen lake what lay in the cradle of their crowned

Heads of horn was a sort of god-head. Its brows

Nudged when the arc was formed. Its need

Was a delicate womb away from the iron collar

Of death, a cave in the ring of horn

Their encircling flesh had backed with fur. That the collar of death

Was the bone of their own skulls: that a softer womb

Would open between far hills in a plunge

Of bunched muscles: and that their immortal calf lay

Dead on the snow with its horns dug into

The ice for grass: they neither saw nor felt. And yet if

That hill of fur could split and run – like a river

Of ice in thaw, like a broken grave –

It would crack across the icy crust of withdrawn

Sustenance and the rigid circle

Of death be shivered: the fed herd would entail its under-fur

On the swell of a soft hill and the future be sown

On grass, I thought. But the herd fell

By the bank of the lake on the plain, and the pack closed,

And the ice remained. And I saw that the god

In their ark of horn was a god of love, who made them die.

(Taken from https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2010/jun/07/poem-week-god-love-macbeth )

Benighted in the Foothills of the Cairngorms: January

By Olive Fraser

Olive Fraser (20 January 1909 – 9 December 1977) was a Scottish poet born in Aberdeen. Both her parents immigrated to Australia within a year of her birth, leaving Olive living with her great aunt in Nairn. She won the Calder Prize for English verse while studying English at the University of Aberdeen, and the Chancellor's Medal for English Verse at University of Cambridge in 1935, but did not complete her studies at Cambridge for health reasons. Most of her works were published posthumously.

Cauld, cauld is Alnack . . .

Cauld is the snaw wind and sweet.

The maukin o’ Creagan Alnack

Has snaw for meat.

Nae fit gangs ayont Caiplich

Nae herd in the cranreuch bricht.

The troot o’ the water o’ Caiplich

Dwells deep the nicht.

On a’ the screes, by ilk cairn

In the silence nae grouse is heard,

But the eagle abune Geal Charn

Hings like a swerd.