I have been working my way through last year’s Bayreuth Festival Ring Cycle- staged by Frank Castorf. Only a little way through Das Rheingold – I am having to watch it in small instalments – such is my life. Not ideal but there it is.
It’s an interesting production – having been “modernised”. It brings something to it – the intonations of meaning are easier to understand for some reason.
However, it lacks some of the Grandeur and Majesty. Wotan the drug lord is not as epic or impressive as Wotan the God.
It is keeping my interest, though – I will persevere and see how it goes – if only for the rumoured copulating crocodiles!
So, either it has snowed in our bathroom, there has been the mother of all cocaine parties or somebody who will remain nameless (starts with an L end with an M few vowels in between) has found Mummy’s talcum powder.
I don’t know what my kids will be when they grow up – but one way or another they will make the world tremble.
In the meantime – here’s an old poem that fits in with today’s prompt.
By Scott Bailey 2014
I have seen giants
Striding over the land
Power on their shoulders
Stern and strong their hand
Never do they falter
Never seen one stumble or fall
Always do their duty
Always answer the call
Through storm and wind and rain
The carry their burden true
Though other links may burn out
The giants stride on through
So remember this and tremble
Even the giants will pass
Fall into dust and rusty ruin
Scattered in untamed grass
One day their burden will dissipate
Their purpose will disappear
And the duty they discharged so well
A memory dimmed with time
Would all the earth succumb to the concrete blanket of mankind? Was that the best legacy they could leave? Was their vision that limited?
One day there would come a time when it would be more profitable to tear these trees down than to leave them. Then there would be no power on earth that would save them. Even concerned consumers couldn’t stand in the way of profits anymore.
A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.