Poetry as Motion

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"After all, tomorrow is another day!" -Scarlett O’Hara, Played by Vivien Leigh (Gone with the Wind 1939)

"You can’t handle the truth!" -Col. Nathan R. Jessep, Played by Jack Nicholson (A Few Good Men 1992)

Who built and laboured here? The wind and the sea say -Their cold nest is broken and they are blown away- They did not breed nor love, each in his cell alone cried as the wind now cries through this flute of stone.
Judith Wright, The Old Prison
Frank Darabont, The Shawshank Redemption

Who built and laboured here? 
The wind and the sea say 
-Their cold nest is broken 
and they are blown away- 

They did not breed nor love, 
each in his cell alone 
cried as the wind now cries 
through this flute of stone.

Judith Wright, The Old Prison

Frank Darabont, The Shawshank Redemption

"I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse." -Don Vito Corleone played by Marlon Brando (The Godfather 1972)

Brother of men, when now I see The lads go forth in line, Thou knowest my heart is hungry in me As for thy bread and wine; Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me To take their death for mine.
Sir Henry Newbolt, The War Films
Steven Spielberg, Saving Private Ryan

Black Knight: [calling after King Arthur] Oh, oh, I see! Running away, eh? You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what’s coming to you! I’ll bite your legs off!

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

"Faith" is a fine invention

When Gentlemen can see 

But Microscopes are prudent

In an Emergency.

-Emily Dickinson, “Faith” is a fine intervention

Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

These glorified ice picks, orbitoclasts, the name Freeman had givento his personally designed lobotomy knives, were designed to unscramble my brains.The good doctor said this ‘cutting edge’ procedurewould be innocuous and relatively painlessbecause the human brain had the consistency, under a knife, of ‘Soft Butter.’
Howard Dully, Lobotomy, The Real Thing
Milos Forman, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

These glorified ice picks, orbitoclasts, 
the name Freeman had given
to his personally designed lobotomy knives, 
were designed to unscramble my brains.
The good doctor said this ‘cutting edge’ procedure
would be innocuous and relatively painless
because the human brain had the consistency, 
under a knife, of ‘Soft Butter.’

Howard Dully, Lobotomy, The Real Thing

Milos Forman, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

"You need more than guts to be a good gangster, you need ideas." -Rocket

City of God

The stork flew over a town one day, 
And back of each wing an infant lay; 
One to a rich man’s home he brought, 
And one he left at a labourer’s cot.
The rich man said, ‘My son shall be
A lordly ruler o’er land and sea.’
The labourer sighed, ‘’Tis the good God’s will
That I have another mouth to fill.’
The rich man’s son grew strong and fair, 
And proud with the pride of a millionaire.
His motto in life was, ‘Live while you may, ’
And he crowded years in a single day.
He bought position and name and place, 
And he bought him a wife with a handsome face.
He journeyed over the whole wide world, 
But discontent his heart lay curled
Like a serpent hidden in leaves and moss, 
And life seemed hollow and gold was dross.
He scoffed at woman, and doubted God, 
And died like a beast and went back to the sod.
The son of the labourer tilled the soil, 
And thanked God daily for health and toil.
He wedded for love in his youthful prime, 
And two lives chorded in tune and time.
His wants were simple, and simple his creed, 
To trust God fully: it served his need, 
And lightened his labour, and helped him to die
With a smile on his lips and a hope in his eye.
When all is over and all is done, 
Now which of these men was the richer one?

-Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Poverty and Wealth

Fernando Meirelles, City of God

I stand amid the roarOf a surf-tormented shore,And I hold within my handGrains of the golden sand—How few! yet how they creepThrough my fingers to the deep,While I weep—while I weep!O God! can I not graspThem with a tighter clasp?O God! can I not saveOne from the pitiless wave?Is all that we see or seemBut a dream within a dream?
-Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within A Dream
Stanley Kubrick, Clockwork Orange
An odor has remained among the sugarcane:a mixture of blood and body, a penetratingpetal that brings nausea.Between the coconut palms the graves are fullof ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.The delicate dictator is talkingwith top hats, gold braid, and collars.The tiny palace gleams like a watchand the rapid laughs with gloves oncross the corridors at timesand join the dead voicesand the blue mouths freshly buried.The weeping cannot be seen, like a plantwhose seeds fall endlessly on the earth,whose large blind leaves grow even without light.Hatred has grown scale on scale,blow on blow, in the ghastly water of the swamp,with a snout full of ooze and silence
-Pablo Neruda, The Dictators
Charles Chaplin, The Great Dictator