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The Obituary Page - R_P - Jun 25, 2016 - 12:06pm
 
Cryptic Posts - Leave Them Guessing - oldviolin - Jun 25, 2016 - 10:51am
 
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Derplahoma Questions and Points of Interest - Beaker - Jun 23, 2016 - 4:49pm
 
Bees are Dying - porphyrius - Jun 23, 2016 - 4:23pm
 
Other Medical Stuff - DaveInVA - Jun 23, 2016 - 3:09pm
 
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Media Bias - Beaker - Jun 22, 2016 - 11:14pm
 
Classical Music - R_P - Jun 22, 2016 - 11:12pm
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 185, 186, 187  Next
Post to this Topic
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 21, 2016 - 7:37pm

Still, I Give Thanks

Day fourteen in the radiation waiting room
and the elderly man sitting next to me
says he gives thanks every day because
he can still roll over and climb out of bed.
We wear the same cotton gowns—repeating
pattern of gold stars on a field of blue—that gape
in back, leaving our goose bump flesh exposed.
Lately, I too, give thanks for the things I can do—
sit, stand, take my next breath. Thanks for my feet,
my fingers, the ears on my head. I give thanks
for the scrub jay’s audacious cries outside
my window at dawn. He is a hungry soul,
forever foraging to feed his mortal appetite.
Like him, I want more of everything: more light,
more life, another cup of Darjeeling tea and a silver
teaspoon to stir it with. I want to see my mother again,
before the winter settles in, and when she’s gone,
I want her porcelain Madonna. I want my doctor
to use the word “cure” just once. Each day, supine
on the table, I listen to the razoring whine
of the radiation beam. It hurts to lie still,
the table sharp as an ice floe beneath the bones
of my spine. Still, I give thanks for the hands
that position me, their measurements and marking
pens, the grid of green light that slides like silk
across my skin. I close my eyes and think
of the jay. We wear the same raiment: blood, bone,
muscle. Most days I still feel joy. I give thanks
for that bird, too—invisible feathers, invisible wings—
a quickening, felt deep within the body, vigorous and fleeting.

Marie Reynolds


muzik
Ms. Creek
muzik Avatar

Location: Montana
Gender: Female
Zodiac: Sagittarius
Chinese Yr: Rabbit


Posted: Jun 16, 2016 - 10:46am

 Manbird wrote:
  
Whoever he is who opposite you

sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing – oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking 
is left in me
no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears
and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass

~ Sappho


    


    

 
{#Meditate} Love it.
Manbird
Offal Makes Me Strong! Strong! Strong! Weak! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong!
Manbird Avatar

Location: Auburn, ca
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Virgo


Posted: Jun 15, 2016 - 4:49pm

  
Whoever he is who opposite you

sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing – oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking 
is left in me
no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears
and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass

~ Sappho


    


    
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 15, 2016 - 5:11am

Nikki Giovanni


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 10, 2016 - 7:59am

Passing through Albuquerque


At dusk, by the irrigation ditch
gurgling past backyards near the highway,
locusts raise a maze of calls in cottonwoods.

A Spanish girl in a white party dress
strolls the levee by the muddy water
where her small sister plunks in stones.

Beyond a low adobe wall and a wrecked car
men are pitching horseshoes in a dusty lot.
Someone shouts as he clangs in a ringer.

Big winds buffet in ahead of a storm,
rocking the immense trees and whipping up
clouds of dust, wild leaves, and cottonwool.

In the moment when the locusts pause and the girl
presses her up-fluttering dress to her bony knees
you can hear a banjo, guitar, and fiddle

playing “The Mississippi Sawyer” inside a shack.
Moments like that, you can love this country.

John Balaban


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: May 24, 2016 - 7:53am

Despair

So much gloom and doubt in our poetry—
flowers wilting on the table,
the self regarding itself in a watery mirror.

Dead leaves cover the ground,
the wind moans in the chimney,
and the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin.

I wonder what the ancient Chinese poets
would make of all this,
these shadows and empty cupboards?

Today, with the sun blazing in the trees,
my thoughts turn to the great
tenth-century celebrator of experience,

Wa-Hoo, whose delight in the smallest things
could hardly be restrained,
and to his joyous counterpart in the western provinces,
Ye-Hah.

~ Billy Collins
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 20, 2016 - 8:57am

Blessings

occur.
Some days I find myself
putting my foot in
the same stream twice;
leading a horse to water
and making him drink.
I have a clue.
I can see the forest
for the trees.

All around me people
are making silk purses
out of sows’ ears,
getting blood from turnips,
building Rome in a day.
There’s a business
like show business.
There’s something new
under the sun.

Some days misery
no longer loves company;
it puts itself out of its.
There’s rest for the weary.
There’s turning back.
There are guarantees.
I can be serious.
I can mean that.
You can quite
put your finger on it.

Some days I know
I am long for this world.
I can go home again.
And when I go
I can
take it with me.

Ronald Wallace




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, 2016 - 9:28am

Pilgrims

They come to the door, usually carrying or leading
a child, always with The Book held between them
and the world. They quote Ezekiel, Daniel, Kings.
They look at us and think of Nebuchadnezzar
eating the grass. It is good to listen, because
maybe they are angels, and behind them the sky arches,
the trees glisten in worship of the sun.

These travelers in the Word and their offspring have
their commission from somewhere, filtered down, through
mistakes, pride, greed, and the plans committees
make, the way pilgrims have always come.
Over their shoulders day extends its hand;
beside them a child whimpers. It bows its head
as we bow: it hungers; it cries; it will be fed.

William Stafford


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: May 6, 2016 - 3:26pm

ON HEARING THE WATERTHROUSH AGAIN, JEFFERSON

March 1794

ordered a Nebbiolo, briskmost vintage,
to be fetched from the cellar;
ordered Lilly, their overseer,

to deliver the canal men
an extra whiskey ration by
the same car, mule-drawn, that hauled

the grindstone, spare tools. See,
the dogwood petals were beginning
to drop, and hickory’s fires flared dusk

wilder than the day’s measures
of rain, last storm a gusty pelting
around five, followed by blue

in breaks like waking. Walking,
he’d heard parula, cardinal, spooked
a blue winged teal (pale whorl of its face)

countless geese, turtles, a green heron,
wood ducks in pairs. My fits of head-ache
that dawn he’d inked have stuck some days

hours. Stingers, still. Yes, everything reeked
of abundance, the strafe & groan beneath
all growth, banks a forge where blossoms

were sparks rising from that hammer
no hand ever bears. Even the river –
siltslappy Rivanna – seemed to have grown

wings, a throat lusty and coarse. He heard
molt. Heard vowels, their origins, too,
but knew only the lost could follow such

speech, if speech, and turned for home.

~ Thorpe Moeckel

(to read more about this poem go here)
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: May 1, 2016 - 5:48am

Personal Helicon

As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.

One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.

A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.

Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.

Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.

~ Seamus Heaney
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Apr 22, 2016 - 3:12pm

Do you remember, before keys turned in the locks
When life was a close-up, and not an occasional letter,
That I hated to swim naked from the rocks
While you liked absolutely nothing better?

Do you remember many hotel bureaus that had
Only three drawers? But the only bother
Was that each of us got holy, then got mad,
Trying to give the third one to the other.

East, West, the little car turned, right or wrong,
Up an erroneous Alp, an unmapped Savoy River.
We blamed each other in cadences acid and strong
And, in an hour, laughed and called it liver.

And, though the end was desolate and unkind:
To turn the calendar at June and find December
On the next leaf; still, stupid-got with grief, I find
These are the only quarrels that I can remember.

~F. Scott Fitzgerald


oldviolin
ab origine
oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: Apr 21, 2016 - 8:41am



Kendrew Lascelles


oldviolin
ab origine
oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: Apr 12, 2016 - 7:49pm

Consolations


Filled with sharp dart-like pens
Limber tipped and firm, newly trimmed
Paper cushioned under my hand
Percolating upon the smooth slope
The leaf a fine and uniform script
A book of verse in ennobling Goidelic.

I learnt the roots of each tale, branch
Of valour and the fair knowledge,
That I may recite in learned lays
Of clear kindred stock and each person's
Family tree, exploits of wonder
Travel and musical branch
Soft voiced, sweet and slumberous
A lullaby to the heart.

Grant me the gladsome gyre, loud
Brilliant, passionate and polished
Rushing in swift frenzy, like a blue edged
Bright, sharp-pointed spear
In a sheath tightly corded;
The cause itself worthy to contain.

Anonymous

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Apr 3, 2016 - 6:44am

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world

~ Mary Oliver


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: Mar 29, 2016 - 8:30am

Early Hominids Slept in Trees

This was before they slipped into caves
and painted the drama of the hunt, before
their stone tools and splendid fires,
when early hominids filled the trees
like night. They climbed a ladder
of branches into evening where they
arranged themselves beneath
the applause of leaves. There were
wind storms and lightning and somehow
babies were held and people snored
or turned over. Surely someone was
afraid of heights? And someone
must have secured a place at the bottom,
or slept on the ground, demonstrating
how it might be done? Balanced up there,
in the mythic beginning, they were
safer from predators that walked
on four legs, swishing tails.
They clung to the trunk: felt the world
growing colder, the new power in their thumbs.
Trees were like houses and going home
meant climbing into the sky where words
appeared inside them like stars.

Faith Shearin


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 27, 2016 - 7:11am

SWEET DARKNESS

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone,
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your home
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

~ David Whyte
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: Mar 26, 2016 - 9:00pm

Outliving One's Father

I could feel, above me,
the hunger in his stride, the fear
that hurled him along an edge
where toothaches, low pay, discipline
problems in the classroom were shadows
of an all-dissolving chaos.

At his side, his shorter only offshoot,
I both sheltered and cowered. He was fallible
but doughty, even cocky as he drove
disintegrating pre-war cars down Reading’s
rattling streets, past coal yards,
candy stores, and dives
whose lurid half-glimpsed doings amused
his Presbyterian soul, bred of a Trenton manse.

The Middle Atlantic region was the humid hell
where he showed me how to go unscorched
by neon and glaring sidewalks. He
had been there before, my guide. Now where
can I shelter, how can I hide,
how match his stride
through years he never endured?

John Updike


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 19, 2016 - 6:14pm

 ScottN wrote:

For a Friend Lying in Intensive Care Waiting for Her White Blood Cells to Rejuvenate After a Bone Marrow Transplant

The jonquils. They come back. They split the earth with
      their green swords, bearing cups of light.
The forsythia comes back, spraying its thin whips with
      blossom, one loud yellow shout.
The robins. They come back. They pull the sun on the
      silver thread of their song.
The irises come back. They dance in the soft air in silken
      gowns of midnight blue.
The lilacs come back. They trail their perfume like a scarf
      of violet chiffon.
And the leaves come back, on every tree and bush, millions
      and millions of small green hands applauding your return.

Barbara Crooker



 

This is fantastic. Thank you.
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: Mar 19, 2016 - 3:23pm

For a Friend Lying in Intensive Care Waiting for Her White Blood Cells to Rejuvenate After a Bone Marrow Transplant

The jonquils. They come back. They split the earth with
      their green swords, bearing cups of light.
The forsythia comes back, spraying its thin whips with
      blossom, one loud yellow shout.
The robins. They come back. They pull the sun on the
      silver thread of their song.
The irises come back. They dance in the soft air in silken
      gowns of midnight blue.
The lilacs come back. They trail their perfume like a scarf
      of violet chiffon.
And the leaves come back, on every tree and bush, millions
      and millions of small green hands applauding your return.

Barbara Crooker


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: Mar 11, 2016 - 7:46am

With Their Wings

                    —for Delia

On the evening you were born,
after the tremendous churning
that brought you forth, an owl
flew onto the rail of the balcony
where we sat, as darkness bled
from backlit hills into the sky.
In twilight, she perched on the ledge
measured us with wide, light-

gleaning eyes, then sailed off
on soft wings. Shades of my mother,
I thought, half-believing—the wide-
set eyes and level gaze.

For those who say the dead
have no more truck with us
are wrong. The dead are all around us
feathering the air with their wings.
They see in the fertile darkness
that surrounds this sac of light.
And in these hours we call them back
to steady us, who live in time.

Jean Nordhaus


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