tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939528489287886153.post8271101942250266389..comments2024-03-24T19:02:41.190+00:00Comments on Martin's Moths: The very startled caterpillarMartinWainwrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08383027708524885786noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939528489287886153.post-84086604463263471602011-06-01T17:55:29.136+01:002011-06-01T17:55:29.136+01:00Lovely, thanks very much - I haven't come acro...Lovely, thanks very much - I haven't come across that before<br /><br />I like the notion of moths turning gold after eating braid<br /><br /><br />I think we should all (temporarily) turn the colour of our food<br /><br />Thanks for Dabbler encouragement and will have a think<br /><br />all warmest wishes as ever<br /><br />MMartinWainwrighthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08383027708524885786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939528489287886153.post-4954997003180572392011-06-01T10:18:51.225+01:002011-06-01T10:18:51.225+01:00do you know the poem Tapestry Moths, Martin? It...do you know the poem Tapestry Moths, Martin? It's by Peter Redgrove and is my favourite poem about the weirdness of moths - here's a section:<br /><br /><br />It was the tapestry moths that ate the colours like the light<br />Limping over the hangings, voracious cameras,<br />And reproduced across their wings the great scenes they consumed<br />Carrying the conceptions of artists away to hang in the woods<br />Or carried off never to be joined again or packed into microscopic eggs<br />Or to flutter like fragments of old arguments through the unused kitchens<br />Settling on pans and wishing they could eat the glowing copper<br /><br />The lamb-faced moth with shining amber wool dust-dabbing the pane<br />Flocks of them shirted with tiny fleece and picture wings<br />The same humble mask flaming in the candle or on the glass bulb<br />Scorched unwinking, dust-puff, disassembled; a sudden flash among the hangings<br />Like a window catching the sun, it is a flock of moths golden from eating<br />The gold braid of the dress uniforms, it is the rank of the family’s admirals<br />Taking wing, they rise<br />Out of horny amphorae, pliable maggots, wingless they champ<br />The meadows of fresh salad, the green glowing pilasters<br />Set with flowing pipes and lines like circuits in green jelly<br />Later they set in blind moulds all whelked and horny<br />While the moth-soup inside makes itself lamb-faced in<br />The inner theatre with its fringed curtains, the long-dressed<br />Moth with new blank wings struggling over tapestry, drenched with its own birth juice<br /><br /><br />Incidentally, we'd love to have another M.Wainwright guest post over on the dabbler!wormhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02802335627720182532noreply@blogger.com