Tag: love

This is a blog on Murdoch’s Queer Poetry. Is it a layer of Queer History or the record of  a Psychosocial Anomaly? It is based on Iris Murdoch (ed. Anne Rowe, Miles Leeson, Rachel Hirschler & Frances White) [2025] ‘Poems from an Attic: Selected Poems 1936 – 1995’

November 19, 2025

One line in a poem of complicated love between women, written to Brigid Brophy, by Iris Murdoch reads: ‘Don’t  make of sex a basic category’. To her journal she committed the following reflection about herself: ‘It’s no good being a female queer, one must be a male one’: This is a blog on Murdoch’s Queer … More This is a blog on Murdoch’s Queer Poetry. Is it a layer of Queer History or the record of  a Psychosocial Anomaly? It is based on Iris Murdoch (ed. Anne Rowe, Miles Leeson, Rachel Hirschler & Frances White) [2025] ‘Poems from an Attic: Selected Poems 1936 – 1995’

Freedom has little use for those who prefer to be bound without choosing and committing to the bonds that matter.

May 5, 2025

My convoluted title is meant to avoid the sense that bonds are unimportant and contrary to what freedom is. Freedom and bondage are only binary contraries either to: Freedom is oft best experienced and compromised in relationships. The death of love of any kind is usually the accompaniment of the plea of one person on … More Freedom has little use for those who prefer to be bound without choosing and committing to the bonds that matter.

The ‘pattern of all patience’ is not to ‘say nothing’ but to ask and expect nothing.

February 11, 2025

This blog prompt is almost identical to a earlier one (see my answer here at this link). The title there was: What is the greatest gift someone could give you? Put yourself in a prompter’s shoes! What difference did they see in the prompts? Well, first, the question asked then for a chosen ‘one’ out … More The ‘pattern of all patience’ is not to ‘say nothing’ but to ask and expect nothing.

‘They flee from me that sometime did me seek’ : Abandonment is a colossally mistaken feeling.

October 6, 2024

Sometimes, it seems that all away do runSometimes, it seems that all away do runand I alone from them do stalk, feeling colossal in my rightness, though aloneperhaps forever – turning in my mindbeing abandoned as gifts held aloftto send me elsewhere – to another sphereof dominion, some place in which I’llstill reign, again held … More ‘They flee from me that sometime did me seek’ : Abandonment is a colossally mistaken feeling.