Solitary Unicorn: Winter Book Trailer

Hello Friends,

Curl up with that mug of hot chocolate
on these rainy days of December...

Now you can view my winter book trailer

Click here:

Book trailer

Welcome!

This blog is for those who follow the writings of Emily Isaacson, the mythic unicorn and solitary poet, an antique soul with a penchance for rambling eventide. The magic of golden Avalon, the moments of martyrdom, the groanings of an old universe all become the postmodern poetry of which she is author and creator. Weep and dance here, on our singular planet in the diamond of our milky way solar system. Visit here for her latest post: musings on poetry, art, faith, courage and early beginnings...

The Transparent Earth

Earth is bowed with a weight
Hard and heavy to bear;
Bowed and curved around the great
Core of despair.
Go into a deep cave,
Where the stone groans in the dark
Like a voice in the grave;
Lift up the light, and mark
The heavy sag of stone,
bearing its load of woe
Till time shall be undone
And the aching form can go,
So men have always said;
Earth is heavy and cold...

But in sleep I saw her, clear
As a drop of dew:
Like a crystal was her sphere,
And the sun shone through:
Standing at midnight in the street...

Solemn and lovely visions
and holy dreams,
Mysterious portents,
wanderers who range
Among unearthly themes,
Strong catalysts that change
The colors and the contours
of the mind;
Be silent in your valleys in the moon,
Fade to the country that we
never find:
For I am listening for that mortal tune,
The broken anthem of
my fallen kind...

These in the light of heaven
I shall behold,
If I can come there,
standing in the flame
Of glory, with the blessed
in their gold.
There is no dream more wonderful,
for they
Are worth the whole creation,
each alone.
Grant me to see their beauty
on that Day!

--Ruth Pitter

The Unicorn In Captivity

Here sits the Unicorn;
Leashed by a chain of gold
To the pomegranate tree.
So light a chain to hold
So fierce a beast;
Delicate as a cross at rest
On a maiden's breast.
He could snap the golden chain
With one toss of his mane,
If he chose to move,
If he chose to prove
His liberty.
But he does not chose
What choice would lose.
He stays, the Unicorn,
In captivity.

In captivity,
Flank, hoofs, and mane--
Yet look again--
His horn is free,
Rising above
Chain, fence, and tree,
Free hymn of love;
His horn
Bursts from a tranquil brow,
Like a comet horn;
Cleaves like a gallery's prow
Into seas untorn;
Springs like a lily, white
From the earth below;
Spirals, a bird in flight
To a longed for height;
Or a fountain bright,
Spurting to light
Of early morn--
O luminous horn!
...

Quiet, the Unicorn,
In contemplation stilled,
With acceptance filled;
Quiet, save for his horn;
Alive in his horn,
Horizontally,
In captivity;
Perpendicularly,
Free.
As prisoners might,
Looking on high at night,
From day-close discipline
Of walls and bars,
To night-free infinity
Of sky and stars,
Find here felicity:
So is he free--
The Unicorn.
What is liberty?
Here lives the Uniocrn,
In captivity,
Free.

Anne Morrow Lindberg

Solitary Unicorn

29.12.11

Winter Book Trailer

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