Favourite Poem?

[kikidior]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Maybe you'll remember... [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Maybe you'll remember that razor-faced man
who slipped out from the dark like a blade
and -- before we realized -- knew what was there:
he saw the smoke and concluded fire.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]The pallid woman with black hair
rose like a fish from the abyss,
and the two of them built up a contraption,
armed to the teeth, against love. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Man and woman, they felled mountains and gardens,
they went down to the river, they scaled the walls,
they hoisted their atrocious artillery up the hill. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way.[/FONT]

*pablo neruda*
​

 

[kikidior]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Don't go far off... [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest, [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?[/FONT]

*pablo neruda*

​

 

[electricladyland]

^^ that's so hot. B)

 

[kikidior]

^ why thank you dear (as if i wrote it ). thank goodness for pablo neruda (one of my faves).

 

[electricladyland]

Among the Multitude, Walt Whitman


AMONG the men and women, the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else—not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer than I am;
Some are baffled—But that one is not—that one knows me.

Ah, lover and perfect equal!
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections;
And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you.

 

[electricladyland]

[SIZE=+2]My River[/SIZE]
by Emily Dickinson
My river runs to thee.
Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me?
My river awaits reply.
Oh! sea, look graciously.

I?ll fetch thee brooks
from spotted nooks.
Say, sea,
Take me!

 

[kikidior]

- flower of love -

The perfume of your body dulls my sense.
I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone
Suffices. In this moment rare and tense
I worship at your breast. The flower is blown
The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth,
The yellow heart is radiant now with dew
Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South;
O flower of love! I give myself to you.
Uncovered on your couch of figured green,
Here let us linger indivisible.
The portals of your sanctuary unseen
Receive my offering, yielding unto me.
Oh, with our love the night is warm and deep!
The air is sweet, my flower, and sweet the flute
Whose music lulls our burning brain to sleep,
While we lie loving, passionate and mute.

​

 

[electricladyland]

I just put something about being lulled to sleep in another thread. We must be vibing the same energy! Isn't infatuation one step toward love?

 

[kikidior]

^ i know! i read that! sweet! i feel warm inside electric! maybe it is... i don't know. i can say it's a strong infatuation.

 

[MissMagAddict]

The First Rain
Yehuda Amichai

The first rain reminds me
Of the rising summer dust.
The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear.
A year is a trained beast with no memories.
Soon you will again wear your harnesses,
Beautiful and embroidered, to hold
Sheer stockings: you
Mare and harnesser in one body.

The white panic of soft flesh
In the panic of a sudden vision
Of ancient saints.

​

 

[StyleBella22]

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop.

 

[Multitudes]

Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love Rainer Maria Rilke

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

​

 

[*Princesse*]

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

Ode - Arthur O'Shaughnessy​

 

[kikidior]

especially for you.

The Gardener XXXVIII: My Love, Once upon a Time

My love, once upon a time your poet
launched a great epic in his mind.
Alas, I was not careful, and it struck
your ringing anklets and came to
grief.
It broke up into scraps of songs and
lay scattered at your feet.
All my cargo of the stories of old
wars was tossed by the laughing waves
and soaked in tears and sank.
You must make this loss good to me,
my love.
If my claims to immortal fame after
death are scattered, make me immortal
while I live.
And I will not mourn for my loss nor
blame you.

- rabindranath tagore -
​

 

[kikidior]

para O! <3

i gave myself to him / emily dickinson

I gave myself to him
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way


The value might disappoint
Myself a poorer prove
Than this my purchaser suspect
The daily own of love.


Depreciates the sight
But, 'till the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie.


At least, "'tis mutual risk"
(Some found it mutual gain)
Sweet debt of life -each night to owe,
Insolvent every noon!

----------------

the poet / william shakespeare
[from "a midsummer night's dream"]

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turn them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

​

​

 

[MissMagAddict]

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health~just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

 

[kikidior]

“In the Garden”

It seemed to me so much like you,
To find the planning of the garden
Faulty, and the birds too few.

Your walk was slow, informal there
Among the trees whose names you knew,
And flowers commonplace or rare.

The elephant of broken stone
Deserved, you said, a closer view
Than animals of flesh and bone.

The spacious lawns with sand defined
Where children shouted, breezes blew,
Or water like a lucid mind

Negotiates obstructive rocks;
And bridges modestly designed;
Were better than the tower of clocks,

And hedges ruining every view-
At which I felt your kindness harden:
It seemed to me so much like you.​

 

[MissMagAddict]

The Swan
Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?​

 

[kikidior]

wondrous moment/ alexander pushkin

The wondrous moment of our meeting . . .
I well remember you appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In hopeless ennui surrounding
The worldly bustle, to my ear
For long your tender voice kept sounding,
For long in dreams came features dear.

Time passed. Unruly storms confounded
Old dreams, and I from year to year
Forgot how tender you had sounded,
Your heavenly features once so dear.

My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet—
Dull fence around, dark vault above—
Devoid of God and uninspired,
Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.

Sleep from my soul began retreating,
And here you once again appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In ecstasy the heart is beating,
Old joys for it anew revive;
Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting
The fire, and tears, and love alive.​

- -


​

 

[MissMagAddict]

There Was A Little Girl
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
And when she was good
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.​