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TEXAS - Red_Dragon - Feb 21, 2017 - 4:51am
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 188, 189, 190  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
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Posted: Feb 22, 2017 - 9:30pm

Posted somewhere else today by Manbird.

The moon and the yew tree’

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky —
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness –
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness – blackness and silence.

Sylvia Plath


Antigone

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


Posted: Feb 22, 2017 - 4:34pm

 ScottN wrote:
VIII - from "Twelve Songs"

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

W.H. Auden



 
Nice.
Antigone

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


Posted: Feb 22, 2017 - 4:33pm


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: Feb 21, 2017 - 8:08am

VIII - from "Twelve Songs"

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

W.H. Auden


Antigone

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


Posted: Feb 16, 2017 - 4:59am

Feet on the ground, I
Pay attention to the sky,
Daily. Love above.

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: Feb 14, 2017 - 7:09am

Weather Systems

Sugar maples, little fires in the trees, every blazing gradation
of orange to red, and this makes me think of you, the way
you press the long length of your body against me, the heat
seeping through flannel, my own private furnace.
If only hands and feet had a color, it would be blue.
From November until May, I cannot get warm.
Even my bones have cores of ice. But you
are a house on fire, an internal combustion system,
Sriracha sauce/ jalapeño poppers/Thai curry. I stay up
late, read until you’re asleep, so I can slip my icy feet,
frozen toes, under the smoldering log of your torso.
Even in the dark, you radiate. I am a cold front, a polar low
coming down from the arctic. And you, why you,
you’re the sun.

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: Feb 13, 2017 - 8:51am

Antilamentation

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

Dorianne Laux


Antigone

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


Posted: Feb 12, 2017 - 12:29pm

 ScottN wrote:
Following the Road

I have left my wife at the airport,
flying out to help our daughter
whose baby will not eat.
And I am driving on to Kent
to hear some poets read tonight.

I don’t know what to do with myself
when she leaves me like this.
An old friend has decided to
end our friendship. Another
is breaking it off with his wife.

I don’t know what to say
to any of this—Life’s hard.
And I say it aloud to myself,
Living is hard, and drive further
into the darkness, my headlights
only going so far.

I sense my own tense breath, this fear
we call stress, making it something else;
hiding from all that is real.

As I glide past Twin Lakes,
flat bodies of water under stars,
I hold the wheel gently, slowing my
body to the road, and know again that
this is just living, not a trauma
nor dying, but a lingering pain
reminding us that we are alive.

Larry Smith



 
{#Notworthy}
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: Feb 12, 2017 - 12:16pm

Following the Road

I have left my wife at the airport,
flying out to help our daughter
whose baby will not eat.
And I am driving on to Kent
to hear some poets read tonight.

I don’t know what to do with myself
when she leaves me like this.
An old friend has decided to
end our friendship. Another
is breaking it off with his wife.

I don’t know what to say
to any of this—Life’s hard.
And I say it aloud to myself,
Living is hard, and drive further
into the darkness, my headlights
only going so far.

I sense my own tense breath, this fear
we call stress, making it something else;
hiding from all that is real.

As I glide past Twin Lakes,
flat bodies of water under stars,
I hold the wheel gently, slowing my
body to the road, and know again that
this is just living, not a trauma
nor dying, but a lingering pain
reminding us that we are alive.

Larry Smith




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: Feb 1, 2017 - 9:32am

Modern Declaration

I, having loved ever since I was a child a few things, never
        having wavered
In these affections; never through shyness in the houses of the
        rich or in the presence of clergymen· having denied these
        loves;
Never when worked upon by cynics like chiropractors having
        grunted or clicked a vertebra to the discredit of these
        loves;
Never when anxious to land a job having diminished them by
        a conniving smile; or when befuddled by drink
Jeered at them through heartache or lazily fondled the fingers
        of their alert enemies; declare

That I shall love you always.
No matter what party is in power;
No matter what temporarily expedient combination of allied
        interests wins the war;
Shall love you always.

Edna St. Vincent Millay


Antigone

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


Posted: Jan 23, 2017 - 9:17am

 ScottN wrote:
Nothing Is Lost

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told
Lie all our memories, lie all the notes
Of all the music we have ever heard
And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,
Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental souvenir and token
Everything seen, experienced, each word
Addressed to us in infancy, before
Before we could even know or understand
The implications of our wonderland.
There they all are, the legendary lies
The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears
Forgotten debris of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves before our eyes
Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,
A word, a tune, a known familiar scent
An echo from the past when, innocent
We looked upon the present with delight
And doubted not the future would be kinder
And never knew the loneliness of night.

Noel Coward



 
{#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: Jan 23, 2017 - 8:57am

Nothing Is Lost

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told
Lie all our memories, lie all the notes
Of all the music we have ever heard
And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,
Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental souvenir and token
Everything seen, experienced, each word
Addressed to us in infancy, before
Before we could even know or understand
The implications of our wonderland.
There they all are, the legendary lies
The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears
Forgotten debris of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves before our eyes
Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,
A word, a tune, a known familiar scent
An echo from the past when, innocent
We looked upon the present with delight
And doubted not the future would be kinder
And never knew the loneliness of night.

Noel Coward


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: Jan 21, 2017 - 8:53am

Perhaps Garrison Keillor gave a bit extra consideration to today's poem he published in The Writer's Almanac?

Theater

Like the neighborhood kind
you went to as a kid, full
of yellow light and red
velvet curtains and everybody
there, friends, bullies throwing
popcorn, somebody with red hair.
The roof is leak-stained like the bloody
footprints of the beast from 20,000 fathoms,
there’s a yo-yo demonstration by
a greasy man in a sequined suit,
the girl you love is there somewhere
but you can’t find her, or if you do
she’s with some jerk with muscles.
And the show won’t start. There’s whistling
and stomping, paper airplanes and 3-D
glasses until you don’t even care
anymore because your head is tired,
a stone atop a tendril, and you just
want to sleep, when, sure enough,
the curtain finally rises,
darkness falls,
and here it comes.

William Greenway


Red_Dragon

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Posted: Jan 20, 2017 - 8:51am

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

~Dylan Thomas 1914 - 1953
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: Jan 12, 2017 - 12:38pm

Geography of the Forehead

Everyone thinks the brain is so complicated,
but let’s look at the facts. The frontal lobe,
for example, is located in the front! And
the temporal lobe is where the clock is.
What could be simpler?

The hippocampal fissure is where big, dumb
thoughts camp, while at the Fissure of Rolando
dark-skinned men with one gold earring lie
around the fire and play guitars.

The superior frontal convolution is where
a lot of really nice houses are set back off
a twisty road, while the inferior frontal
convolution is a kind of trailer park, regularly
leveled by brainstorms.

The area of Broca is pretty much off limits.
And if you know Broca, you know why.

Ron Koertge


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: Jan 9, 2017 - 5:59pm

A Ritual To Read To Each Other


If you don’t know the kind of person I am
and I don’t know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,
but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider-
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give-yes or no, or maybe-
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

William Stafford


Antigone

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


Posted: Jan 8, 2017 - 2:55pm


Antigone

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


Posted: Jan 5, 2017 - 2:57pm


Antigone

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


Posted: Jan 4, 2017 - 3:41pm

"Made for Paradise ... "

Music


When I was a child
I once sat sobbing on the floor
Beside my mother’s piano
As she played and sang
For there was in her singing
A shy yet solemn glory
My smallness could not hold
And when I was asked
Why I was crying
I had no words for it
I only shook my head
And went on crying
Why is it that music
At its most beautiful
Opens a wound in us
An ache a desolation
Deep as a homesickness
For some far-off
And half-forgotten country
I’ve never understood
Why this is so
But there’s an ancient legend
From the other side of the world
That gives away the secret
Of this mysterious sorrow
For centuries on centuries
We have been wandering
But we were made for Paradise
As deer for the forest
And when music comes to us
With its heavenly beauty
It brings us desolation
For when we hear it
We half remember
That lost native country
We dimly remember the fields
Their fragrant windswept clover
The birdsongs in the orchards
The wild white violets in the moss
By the transparent streams
And shining at the heart of it
Is the longed-for beauty
Of the One who waits for us
Who will always wait for us
In those radiant meadows
Yet also came to live with us
And wanders where we wander.

~ Anne Porter


Antigone

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


Posted: Dec 31, 2016 - 2:55pm

New Year Poem

Let us step outside for a moment
As the sun breaks through clouds
And shines on wet new fallen snow,
And breathe the new air.
So much has died that had to die this year.
We are dying away from things.
It is a necessity—we have to do it
Or we shall be buried under the magazines,
The too many clothes, the too much food.
We have dragged it all around
Like dung beetles
Who drag piles of dung
Behind them on which to feed,
In which to lay their eggs.
Let us step outside for a moment
Among ocean, clouds, a white field,
Islands floating in the distance.
They have always been there.
But we have not been there.
We are going to drive slowly
And see the small poor farms,
The lovely shapes of leafless trees
Their shadows blue on the snow.
We are going to learn the sharp edge
Of perception after a day’s fast.
There is nothing to fear.
About this revolution…
Though it will change our minds.
Aggression, violence, machismo
Are fading from us
Like old photographs
Faintly ridiculous
(Did a man actually step like a goose
To instill fear?
Does a boy have to kill
To become a man?)
Already there are signs.
Young people plant gardens.
Fathers change their babies’ diapers
And are learning to cook.
Let us step outside for a moment.
It is all there
Only we have been slow to arrive
At a way of seeing it.
Unless the gentle inherit the earth
There will be no earth.

~ May Sarton


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