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Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock

France is speckled with more than her fair share of rugged fortresses and fairy-tale chateaux and every shade and hue betwixt, between, beyond and behind.  This one (le Chateau d’Arouze) stands dominant over le Vallée D’Alagnon in the commune of Molompize which has it’s own unique micro-climate enabling it to pioneer the revival of Cantalien wine-making.  We walked the terraces and we conquered the Castle. I have a tendency to hoover up the ambience and atmosphere of  buildings to the extent that my life imagined appears to play out within and without them and I find myself a player in my own drama without ever needing to put pen to paper.  This one did not disenchant as I swished and swooshed and scrambled and scaramouched my way around it, the fantasy trumpeting loud in my head all the while.

HB² (that’s my husband with two brains for new readers) took this sublime shot which seems to me to indicate weightlessness on several levels – the bristly half grown beards of grass like immature goaties on the tops of those ancient towers seem drawn upwards as though absolved of gravity, the stone skillfully, artfully placed so long ago (in 1309 for pedants such as me) reaches heavenwards vainly trying to touch the clouds, themselves apparently weightless wafting serenely and, I always think, a little scathing of that which they float effortlessly above.

DSCF4608

I’m responding to the prompt ‘weightless’ in this weeks Daily Press Photo Challenge …. all the other, more marvellous entries are here.

PS:  Sylvia Plath, that most fragile of souls, who I love thoroughly and unashamedly wrote the poem that I snatched my title from.  That she was born in the same year as my still living mother but died only three years after my birth has always resonated  poignantly with me.  Now it suddenly strikes me that she was born so close to where I am making my home for a while in Massachusetts and the echoes ring more shrilly still.

Through portico of my elegant house you stalk
With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit
And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net
Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.

Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak
Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light
Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight
Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break.


Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock;
While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit
Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot,
Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic:
Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate,
What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?
Conversation Among The Ruins
Sylvia Plath

 

 

32 Comments Post a comment
  1. I too love Sylvia Plath. What impresses me most right now though is how effortlessly you throw a word like “scaramouched” into a sentence! 🙂 Nice pic too. x

    Liked by 2 people

    January 8, 2016
    • Thank you …. it just sort of fell onto the page, as those pesky words like to do! Lovely to meet you fellow SP lover and thank you for taking the time to drop by and comment 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

      January 8, 2016
  2. Great photo, great poem, great word – “scaramouched”. In the words of Obi Wan “Now that’s a word I’ve not heard in a long time.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3LE15AyT5g

    Liked by 2 people

    January 8, 2016
  3. Wonderful pic. We have to visit this chateau on our next visit to Cantal, which I fervently hope will be this year. Wot no snow? Or was the pic taken earlier on?

    Liked by 1 person

    January 8, 2016
    • The picture was taken in November … the snow has arrived but tragically I am not there to greet it being a castaway in New England for a while. And it hurts my heart in a way only someone who loves the Cantal as I do can understand … and I know you do!

      Like

      January 8, 2016
  4. Beautiful pictures, wonderful colours

    Liked by 1 person

    January 8, 2016
    • It’s interesting that the stone in the North East of Cantal the stone is quite yellowy whereas in the North West it is grey … we can’t make our minds up which we prefer which is partly why we are taking so long to find that elusive forever house 🙂

      Like

      January 8, 2016
  5. I really don’t know anything about Sylvia, but I like what you posted from her. 🙂 And the photo as well.

    janet

    Liked by 1 person

    January 8, 2016
    • thank you Janet. she was quite a tragic figure – very very bright and a wonderful writer she has a starry academic career and married Ted Hughes (who eventually became the British Poet Laureate) in 1956. In 1963 she gassed herself. There are theories and theories of course but I think that she was just a very fragile soul who gave us some wonderful poetry and prose. I care not to speculate on the misfortune of others (probably because I don’t want others to speculate on any misfortune I or those I love may suffer ..

      Like

      January 8, 2016
  6. What a structure! And what a photo! Breathtakingly! (Well done, HB2) And, if I may say so, a beautifully poetic description – yours. Thanks for the intriguing introduction to Sylvia Plath. I’ll look for more of her work.

    Liked by 1 person

    January 8, 2016
    • Thank you Janet – you are very kind 🙂 Sylvia Plath is worth the search … i Hope you enjoy what you find

      Liked by 1 person

      January 9, 2016
  7. Lovely photo
    And lovely to see a little Plath

    Liked by 1 person

    January 9, 2016
    • I’m glad you approve …. I think all women have echoed of Plath in their fabric

      Like

      January 10, 2016
      • Yes
        I have always thought that she had a unique gift for expressing our inner turmoils & torments and our response to life’s trials in an exqusitely painful but shockingly truthful way.
        I’d say she was a great voice for the “female condition” but that’s probably an unfashionable and un- PC term now

        Liked by 1 person

        January 10, 2016
      • I couldn’t care less if it’s unfashionable and even less that its unPC – you are absolutely right she is that voice.

        Liked by 1 person

        January 10, 2016
      • As you may have concluded
        Neither do I..

        Liked by 1 person

        January 10, 2016
  8. Great angle! I love that a section (which looks like a big flower pot) close to the top looks like it’s about to topple off!

    Liked by 1 person

    January 10, 2016
    • I love that too …. One wonders how on earth they built it and how on earth it’s still standing 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      January 10, 2016
  9. wow this is amazing and the photos are wonderful! love the poem!

    Liked by 1 person

    January 11, 2016
    • Sylvia Plath speaks for the female condition as my friend Gill notes in the comments. She is well worth seeking out – very fragile, often brittle but her observations on the less savoury aspects of being a woman are arrow-sharp.

      Liked by 1 person

      January 11, 2016
  10. Lovely, simply lovely….kat

    Liked by 1 person

    January 14, 2016
  11. This is so weird, I actually left a comment via the medium of iPhone as I recall reading this piece and marvelling at the pillars. How odd it did not even acknowledge my like.
    Now addressed and liked and commented 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    January 15, 2016
    • Bluddy marvelous these gadgets when they work 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      January 15, 2016
      • Yeah, WHEN they work 😉 I even know where I was when I did it, I was on the fourth floor at the BBC overlooking the One Show outside…..

        Liked by 1 person

        January 15, 2016
      • Personally I think these phones are little prima donna’s …. It was probably making a petulant statement about not guesting on The One Show and demonstrated the hissy by not uploading!

        Liked by 1 person

        January 15, 2016
      • Oh you know it so well!

        Liked by 1 person

        January 15, 2016
  12. The photo is amazing. When I view it, I feel like I am above the sky in a castle and looking down upon the clouds and not looking up to them. Does that sound crazy?

    Liked by 1 person

    January 22, 2016
    • Not at all – that was sort of intentional. I used to love lying on my back looking up at the sky through the trees as a child. Note to self – resurrect this tradition immediately (but wearing appropriate clothing as the ground is pretty cold just now!)

      Liked by 1 person

      January 22, 2016

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