Favourite Poem?

[MissMagAddict]

Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me
by Mary Oliver

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,

what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again

in a new way
on the earth!
That's what it said
as it dropped,

smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches

and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing

under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment

my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars

and the soft rain -
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.

 

[city girl]

Oh hear since the world's reality is illusion
How long will you complain about this torment?
Resign your body to fate and put up with the pain
Because what the pen has written for you it will not unwrite


Omar Khayyam

 

[electricladyland]

Lilies, Mary Oliver

I have been thinking
about living
like the lilies
that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall
in the edge of the wind,
and have no shelter
from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards,
and have no legs.
Still I would like to be
as wonderful

as the old idea.
But if I were a lily
I think I would wait all day
for the green face

of the hummingbird
to touch me.
What I mean is,
could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields?
When Van Gogh
preached to the poor
of course he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself.
He wasn't a lily,
and wandering through the bright fields
only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve.
I think I will always be lonely
in this world, where the cattle
graze like a black and white river--

where the vanishing lilies
melt, without protest, on their tongues--
where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss,
just rises and floats away.

 

[Mary-Anne]

Twilight by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman's cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the colour from her cheek?

 

[nnzr]

While You Were Sleeping

By Alicia Click

While You Were Sleeping
While you were sleeping I felt your heart beating.
While you were sleeping in my head love was repeating.
While you were sleeping all I could do was smile.
While you were sleeping I watched you for a while.
While you were sleeping I always held your hand.
While you were sleeping I knew where my heart would land.
While you were sleeping you would hold me near.
While you were sleeping I would cry all my tears.
While you were sleeping from you I knew I wouldn't part.
While you were sleeping I gave to you my heart.

 

[nnzr]

Good-bye
By Molly E. MobleyWe never thought this day would come,
But it's finally here at last,

What once was our bright future,
Is now are dim-lit past,

But we hold onto the memories,
The lessons that we learned,

The pathways we have traveled down,
The corners that we turned,

And soon we say our sad goodbyes,
That will last us forever,

We may see each other again,
Maybe once or maybe never,

So make your goodbyes ones to remember,
The kind that will stay in their heads,

Those are the goodbyes they will treasure,
The ones that were sad to be said.

 

[Mary-Anne]

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

 

[Lamia]

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

 

[London-TWN]

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings
​

 

[yellowetpink]

Requiescat

T[SIZE=-1]READ[/SIZE] lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman,
so Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

Oscar Wilde

 

[MissMagAddict]

APRIL 20, 2008
the white coyote
by patti smith

I dreamed we met on the Spanish steppes

But we were not in Spain

And we were not in Rome

We were far afield

Opening onto yet another field

Separated by a half hearted fence

You had a red and white car

A convertible

You lapsed into Spanish

And spoke of your ride

Into the unknown

I felt I did not know you

And found myself wishing

You would depart

Then I saw a white coyote

Just there beyond

I grabbed your sleeve

And we watched it together

It did not bolt when it saw us

It lifted its white head

And it sang to the sky

And I knew you

 

[MissMagAddict]

The Harlot's House
by Oscar Wilde

We caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the mooonlit street,
And stopped beneath the Harlot's House.

Inside, above the din and fray,
we heard the loud musicians play,
the 'Treues Liebes Herz' of Strauss.

Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.

We watched the ghostly dancers spin,
to sound of horn and violin,
Like the black leaves wheeling in the wind.

Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons,
went sidling through the slow quadrille.

Then took each other by the hand,
And danced a statley saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.

Sometimes a clock-work puppet pressed,
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try and sing,

Sometimes a horrible Marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.

Then turning to my love I said,
'The dead are dancing with the dead,
the dust is whirling with the dust.'

But she, she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in;
Love passed into the house of Lust.

Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl,

And down the long and silent street,
The dawn with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.

 

[modeldom]

She Walks in Beauty
[FONT=Courier,sans-serif]She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to the tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One ray the more, one shade the less
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.[/FONT]---Lord Byron---

 

[AMACINOM]

Dust

Here is dust remembers it was a rose
one time and lay in a woman's hair.
Here is dust remembers it was a woman
one time and in her hair lay a rose.
Oh things one time dust, what else now is it
you dream and remember of old days?

Carl Sandburg - "Dust"

 

[educo]

In my hallucination,
I saw my beloved's flower garden.
In my vertigo,
in my dizzyness,
in my drunken haze,
whirling and dancing like a spinning wheel.

I saw myself,
as the source of existence,
I was there in the beginning,
and I was the spirit of love,

Now I am sober,
there is only the hangover,
and the memory of love,
and only the sorrow.

I yearn for happiness,
I ask for help,
I want mercy,
and my love says,
look at me and hear me,
because I'm here just for that

I am your moon,
and your moonlight too,
I am your flower garden and your water too,
I have come all this way eager for you,
without shoes,
or shawl

I want you to laugh,
to kill all your worries,
to love you,
to nourish you,
oh sweet bitterness,
I will soothe you,
and heal you,
I will bring you roses,
I too have been covered with thorns.

Rumi

 

[nnzr]

Life Is Fine ~Langston Hughes
​

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn't a-been so cold
I might've sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn't a-been so high
I might've jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',
I guess I will live on.
I could've died for love--
But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry--
I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

 

[MissMagAddict]

Valentine
by Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

 

[Filipe]

She
by Elvis Costello

She
May be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

She
May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She, she, she

 

[nnzr]

From a Window Looking In
© By Shannon Lockhart

From my window looking in
A glass perception
Of a world destroyed by sin
Look in to find ambition
A broken drive
And only a glance of recognition.

From my window looking in
A storm of longing
For a place of the good twin
Stare down anger
And leave your heart in danger

From my window looking in
A blank memoir
Forget life and back then
Close the doors to turn away
Forget everything you see today
From your window looking in.

 

[MissMagAddict]

It is Not Enough
by David Whyte

It is not enough to know.
It is not enough to follow
the inward road conversing in secret.

It is not enough to see straight ahead,
to gaze at the unborn
thinking the silence belongs to you.

It is not enough to hear
even the tiniest edge of rain.

You must go to the place
where everything waits,
there, when you finally rest,
even one word will do,
one word or the palm of your hand
turning outward
in the gesture of gift.

And now we are truly afraid
to find the great silence
asking so little.

One word, one word only.