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Trump - Steely_D - Jun 26, 2017 - 1:48pm
 
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I have no idea what this thread was about, but let's talk... - Prodigal_SOB - Jun 18, 2017 - 11:44am
 
Poetry Forum - SeriousLee - Jun 18, 2017 - 9:59am
 
Birthday wishes - Skydog - Jun 18, 2017 - 7:57am
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 190, 191, 192  Next
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SeriousLee

SeriousLee Avatar

Location: Dans l'milieu d'deux milles livres


Posted: Jun 18, 2017 - 9:59am

 ScottN wrote:
There Comes the Strangest Moment

There comes the strangest moment in your life,
when everything you thought before breaks free—
what you relied upon, as ground-rule and as rite
looks upside down from how it used to be.

Skin’s gone pale, your brain is shedding cells;
you question every tenet you set down;
obedient thoughts have turned to infidels
and every verb desires to be a noun.

I want—my want. I love—my love. I’ll stay
with you. I thought transitions were the best,
but I want what’s here to never go away.
I’ll make my peace, my bed, and kiss this breast…

Your heart’s in retrograde. You simply have no choice.
Things people told you turn out to be true.
You have to hold that body, hear that voice.
You’d have sworn no one knew you more than you.

How many people thought you’d never change?
But here you have. It’s beautiful. It’s strange.

Kate Light



 
Excellent! I especially like the last two lines.
ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: Jun 18, 2017 - 9:24am

There Comes the Strangest Moment

There comes the strangest moment in your life,
when everything you thought before breaks free—
what you relied upon, as ground-rule and as rite
looks upside down from how it used to be.

Skin’s gone pale, your brain is shedding cells;
you question every tenet you set down;
obedient thoughts have turned to infidels
and every verb desires to be a noun.

I want—my want. I love—my love. I’ll stay
with you. I thought transitions were the best,
but I want what’s here to never go away.
I’ll make my peace, my bed, and kiss this breast…

Your heart’s in retrograde. You simply have no choice.
Things people told you turn out to be true.
You have to hold that body, hear that voice.
You’d have sworn no one knew you more than you.

How many people thought you’d never change?
But here you have. It’s beautiful. It’s strange.

Kate Light


Antigone
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: Jun 9, 2017 - 5:33am

Cool, lazy morning,
Hot coffee and birds singing.
A beautiful day.


ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: Jun 6, 2017 - 9:17am

                   10 (excerpt)
...
The towns clog the valleys like something made of fear.

Fear of loneliness, of dream.
They huddle at the bottom of the hills,
offering up to the hollowed hours a brief and fragile
calmness: glasses of clear water, windowsills of herbs.
And touch, which is sometimes not a lie.
And voices, voices.
like nets cast out into the fear.

Somewhere a child lies in her crib
repeating the names of her parents, the names of her pets
and her toys as she falls off to sleep.
Somewhere a woman cries in a corner.
Somewhere a man thinks of a woman he loved who left him
who is dead.  Somewhere and somewhere. The child
asleep now, the woman  untying her apron,
the man going out to the store.

The world flies by in its fragments,
I remember and do not remember.
Voices, promises. Windows and doorways,
Green valleys, red hills.

Laurie Sheck



ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: Jun 5, 2017 - 8:26am

FROM THE DESIRE FIELD

I don't call it sleep anymore.
             I'll risk losing something new instead—

like you lost your rosen moon, shook it loose.

But sometimes when I get my horns in a thing—
a wonder, a grief or a line of her—it is a sticky and ruined
             fruit to unfasten from,

despite my trembling.

Let me call my anxiety, desire, then.
Let me call it, a garden.

Maybe this is what Lorca meant
             when he said, verde que te quiero verde—

because when the shade of night comes,
I am a field of it, of any worry ready to flower in my chest.

My mind in the dark is una bestia, unfocused,
             hot. And if not yoked to exhaustion

beneath the hip and plow of my lover,
then I am another night wandering the desire field—

bewildered in its low green glow,

belling the meadow between midnight and morning.
Insomnia is like Spring that way—surprising
             and many petaled,

the kick and leap of gold grasshoppers at my brow.

I am struck in the witched hours of want—

I want her green life. Her inside me
in a green hour I can't stop.
             Green vein in her throat green wing in my mouth

green thorn in my eye. I want her like a river goes, bending.
Green moving green, moving.

Fast as that, this is how it happens—
             soy una sonambula.

And even though you said today you felt better,
and it is so late in this poem, is it okay to be clear,
             to say, I don't feel good,

to ask you to tell me a story
about the sweet grass you planted—and tell it again
             or again—

until I can smell its sweet smoke,
             leave this thrashed field, and be smooth.

Natalie Diaz


ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: Jun 4, 2017 - 12:02pm

For No Good Reason

As if you needed one,
as if you could help it,
for no good reason
a tune out of nowhere
pops into your head
when you least expect,
riffs effortlessly in the
folds of your cerebrum—

your own private jukebox,
your personal music device
on random minus the earbuds—
drumming itself up to keep
you company: here, a little
Janis Joplin while you vacuum
cat hair; there, a John Denver line
as you peel potatoes at the sink.

How can others not hear it,
this frequent odd gift?
Sometimes you forget
and blurt the words to the chorus,
which, after all, is all you can remember,
those take me home, country roads,
that feelin’ good was good enough
for me
, even conjuring

the gas station in Colorado
back where you, wearing
those bell bottoms and that
paisley, were about to fill a tank
of freedom into the blue VW Bug
when Carole King belted out
and it’s too late baby, now it’s too late
though we really did try to make it

and you couldn’t move, couldn’t
quit sobbing to the steering wheel
that would not console those blues
or say what you had left to lose,
wouldn’t question why in hell
you were going down that road
where for no good reason
you seemed to be heading.

Twyla Hansen


ScottFromWyoming
I eat pints
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Location: Powell
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Pisces
Chinese Yr: Tiger


Posted: May 30, 2017 - 7:41am

 Antigone wrote:

ANOTHER REASON WHY I DON'T KEEP A GUN IN THE HOUSE

by Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,
and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.
When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton
while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

From "Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems," Random House, 2001



 

Antigone
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 30, 2017 - 7:16am

ANOTHER REASON WHY I DON'T KEEP A GUN IN THE HOUSE

by Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,
and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.
When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton
while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

From "Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems," Random House, 2001


Antigone
Thumbs Up!
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 30, 2017 - 7:05am

 ScottN wrote:
BABY

Oh baby, I love you so much
that I call you baby
even though you’re forty-one
years old, wait, I mean forty-two,
but baby, oh Baby, you’re my
exhumation, my unmitigated intubation,
my excoriating ablution
and the garnishment of all my mortal wages,
my silver salver and my radish dish.
There’s some other stuff you are,
Baby, and only some of it has names!
I’ve been exculpated, by you, for sure,
and more than once, as you well know,
for this is love in which we are
amalgamated nevermore to become risibly
insinuated in our alloyship. Battlements
Will crumble, etcetera, Baby, and whatnot
until infinity and infinity double meet
at the corner of You and Me Streets
in a town called, say, Heartburg or Heartsylvania,
Or Babyville, because you’re my baby,
and probably if there was that town,
you’d be mayor, Baby, and Baby Baby,
you could appoint me Poet
Laughing Laureate.

Ron Carlson



 
{#Clap}
ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: May 30, 2017 - 6:07am

BABY

Oh baby, I love you so much
that I call you baby
even though you’re forty-one
years old, wait, I mean forty-two,
but baby, oh Baby, you’re my
exhumation, my unmitigated intubation,
my excoriating ablution
and the garnishment of all my mortal wages,
my silver salver and my radish dish.
There’s some other stuff you are,
Baby, and only some of it has names!
I’ve been exculpated, by you, for sure,
and more than once, as you well know,
for this is love in which we are
amalgamated nevermore to become risibly
insinuated in our alloyship. Battlements
Will crumble, etcetera, Baby, and whatnot
until infinity and infinity double meet
at the corner of You and Me Streets
in a town called, say, Heartburg or Heartsylvania,
Or Babyville, because you’re my baby,
and probably if there was that town,
you’d be mayor, Baby, and Baby Baby,
you could appoint me Poet
Laughing Laureate.

Ron Carlson


Antigone
Thumbs Up!
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 21, 2017 - 5:56pm

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi


Red_Dragon

Red_Dragon Avatar



Posted: May 21, 2017 - 4:27pm

 Antigone wrote:
Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.
~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti



 
+1
Antigone
Thumbs Up!
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 21, 2017 - 3:36pm

Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.
~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti




oldviolin
ab origine
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Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: May 17, 2017 - 5:33pm

fragrant haiku strains
reds purples and feverish fronds
green patina balm
Antigone
Thumbs Up!
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 17, 2017 - 9:32am

Summer smells like French
Fries, freshly mowed grass and long
Lost childhood mem'ries.

ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: May 14, 2017 - 6:57pm

Perhaps this has been previously posted here.  Maybe I did it.  So, it gets a bump.

Hope

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
     it shakes sleep from its eyes
     and drops from mushroom gills,
          it explodes in the starry heads
          of dandelions turned sages,
               it sticks to the wings of green angels
               that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
     it lives in each earthworm segment
     surviving cruelty,
          it is the motion that runs
          from the eyes to the tail of a dog,
               it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
               of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.

Lisel Mueller


ScottN
"Thought for today" has been postponed until tomorrow.
ScottN Avatar

Location: An inch above the K/T boundary. But smth near fracking still has appeal.
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aries
Chinese Yr: Buffalo


Posted: May 13, 2017 - 5:58am

Bad News Good News

I was at a camp in the country,
you were home in the city,
and bad news had come to you.

You texted me as I sat
with others around a campfire.
It had been a test you and I

hadn’t taken seriously,
hadn’t worried about.
You texted the bad news word

cancer. I read it in that circle
around the fire. There was
singing and laughter to my right and left

and there was that word on the screen.
I tried to text back but,
as often happened in that county,

my reply would not send, so I went to higher ground.
I stood on a hill above the river and sent you
the most beautiful words I could manage,

put them together, each following each. Under
Ursa Major, Polaris, Cassiopeia, a space station flashing,
I said what had been said

many times, important times, foolish times:
those words soft-bodied humans say when the news is bad.
The I love you we wrap around our

need and hurl at the cosmos: Take this, you heartless
nothing and everything, take this.
I chose words to fling into the dark toward you

while the gray-robed coyote came out of hiding
and the badger wandered the unlit hill
and the lark rested herself in tall grasses;

I sent the most necessary syllables
we have, after all this time the ones we want to hear:
I said Home, I said Love, I said Tomorrow.

Marjorie Saiser


oldviolin
ab origine
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Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: May 11, 2017 - 7:11pm

The Aged Aged Man by Lewis Carroll
I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said,
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said, "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men," he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread—
A trifle; if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
He said, "I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar-Oil—
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"

He said, "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of hansom-cabs.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
"By which I get my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health."

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo—
That summer evening long ago
A-sitting on a gate.

Antigone
Thumbs Up!
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Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Rat


Posted: May 6, 2017 - 5:16am

Dreary days are good
For inside chores and cooking.
Time to get to it!

{#War}
oldviolin
ab origine
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Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: May 5, 2017 - 7:25am

 Antigone wrote:
The rain stops. All the
Mowers start. Destroying the
Lovely, soft, green peace.

 
I baked a pie once
The flaky crust to die for
Apple for a day


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