The meaning is in the waiting. R. S. Thomas More Quotes by R. S. Thomas More Quotes From R. S. Thomas The darkness R. S. Thomas shadow silence darkness Art is recuperation R. S. Thomas lying hands art Now the power of the imagination is a unifying power, hence the force of metaphor; and the poet is the supreme manipulator of metaphor... the world needs the unifying power of the imagination. The two things that give it best are poetry and religion. R. S. Thomas imagination giving two Is there a place here for the spirit ? Is there time on this brief platform for anything other than mind 's failure to explain itself? R. S. Thomas platforms spirit mind Man is a dream about a shadow. But when some splendour falls upon him from God, a glory comes to him and his life is sweet. R. S. Thomas dream sweet fall I'm obviously not orthodox, I don't know how many real poets have ever been orthodox. R. S. Thomas orthodox poet real Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer Said once about the long toil that goes like blood to the poems making? Leave it to nature and the verse sprawls, Limp as bindweed, if it break at all Life's iron crust Man, you must sweat And rhyme your guts taut, if you'd build Your verse a ladder. R. S. Thomas sweat men blood They left no books , Memorial to their lonely thought In grey parishes: rather they wrote On men's hearts and in the minds Of young children sublime words Too soon forgotten. God in his time Or out of time will correct this. R. S. Thomas lonely book children In the silence R. S. Thomas communication silence sports I have been Merlin wandering in the woods Of a far country, where the winds waken Unnatural voices , my mind broken By a sudden acquaintance with man's rage. R. S. Thomas wind men country Deliver me from the long drought R. S. Thomas autumn long fall It is too late to start For destinations not of the heart . I must stay here with my hurt. R. S. Thomas hurt heart too-late I have nowhere to go. The swift satellites show The clock of my whole being is slow. R. S. Thomas satellites nowhere-to-go clock I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow. R. S. Thomas brain men hands You cannot find the centre Where we dance , where we play, Where life is still asleep Under the closed flower , Under the smooth shell Of eggs in the cupped nest That mock the faded blue Of your remoter heaven . R. S. Thomas flower play blue The deep spaces between stars , Fathomless as the cold shadow His mind cast. R. S. Thomas space stars mind We live in our own world , A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees, The adult subterfuge. R. S. Thomas adults hands world
