[ ]      [ ]   [ ]

Trump - rotekz - May 31, 2016 - 1:59am
 
The End of Europe - rotekz - May 31, 2016 - 1:57am
 
Bernie Sanders 2016? - #feelthebern - rotekz - May 31, 2016 - 1:50am
 
Alternative Lifestyles. - BlueHeronDruid - May 31, 2016 - 12:22am
 
Photography Forum - Your Own Photos; Please Limit to 510 ... - Alchemist - May 30, 2016 - 11:48pm
 
260,000 Posts in one thread? - winter - May 30, 2016 - 11:28pm
 
RP3 Beta Player - Beaker - May 30, 2016 - 8:20pm
 
Back to the 00's - R_P - May 30, 2016 - 8:02pm
 
Back to the 90's - R_P - May 30, 2016 - 7:57pm
 
BACK TO THE 80's - R_P - May 30, 2016 - 7:51pm
 
What are you reading now? - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 7:42pm
 
• • •  What's For Dinner ? • • •  - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 7:32pm
 
What Did You See Today? - Steely_D - May 30, 2016 - 7:25pm
 
Private messages in a public forum - Beaker - May 30, 2016 - 7:23pm
 
Things You Thought Today - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 7:20pm
 
Animal Resistance - haresfur - May 30, 2016 - 7:13pm
 
World Music - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 7:12pm
 
Try something different. - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 7:08pm
 
Happy RP Anniversary! - Coaxial - May 30, 2016 - 6:50pm
 
Acustic Guitar - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 6:39pm
 
Country Up The Bumpkin - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 6:33pm
 
Live Music - rhahl - May 30, 2016 - 6:25pm
 
Baseball, anyone? - Red_Dragon - May 30, 2016 - 5:43pm
 
Name My Band - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 5:12pm
 
What Are You Going To Do Today? - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 4:36pm
 
Radio Paradise Comments - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 4:34pm
 
What Did You Do Today? - muzik - May 30, 2016 - 4:30pm
 
One Partying State - Wyoming News - bokey - May 30, 2016 - 4:21pm
 
Photos you have taken of your walks or hikes. - KurtfromLaQuinta - May 30, 2016 - 2:38pm
 
Back to the 70's - R_P - May 30, 2016 - 12:22pm
 
Unindicted felon: candidate Hillary Clinton - Beaker - May 30, 2016 - 12:02pm
 
2016 Elections - Beaker - May 30, 2016 - 11:02am
 
Vinyl Only Spin List - kurtster - May 30, 2016 - 10:50am
 
Abiogenesis! - R_P - May 30, 2016 - 9:38am
 
The war on Funk is over! - n4ku - May 30, 2016 - 8:06am
 
Would you drive this car for dating with ur girl? - oldviolin - May 30, 2016 - 7:46am
 
Ask the Libertarian - Lazy8 - May 30, 2016 - 7:27am
 
Memorial Day 2011 - Coaxial - May 30, 2016 - 7:20am
 
Memorial Day - Skydog - May 30, 2016 - 3:27am
 
The Image Post - Lazy8 - May 29, 2016 - 9:32pm
 
Climate Change - R_P - May 29, 2016 - 6:14pm
 
OUR CATS!! - DaveInVA - May 29, 2016 - 2:18pm
 
What makes you smile? - Steely_D - May 29, 2016 - 1:13pm
 
Anti-War - R_P - May 29, 2016 - 12:19pm
 
Bad Poetry - oldviolin - May 29, 2016 - 11:50am
 
What Makes You Laugh? - oldviolin - May 29, 2016 - 11:33am
 
Dialing 1-800-Manbird - oldviolin - May 29, 2016 - 10:37am
 
• • • The Once-a-Day • • •  - oldviolin - May 29, 2016 - 10:34am
 
Using the cache on an Android Phone - BillG - May 29, 2016 - 10:32am
 
Counting with Pictures - ScottN - May 29, 2016 - 8:55am
 
RP Daily Trivia Challenge - Beaker - May 29, 2016 - 7:45am
 
Beer - olivertwist - May 29, 2016 - 6:45am
 
Back To The 50's - rhahl - May 29, 2016 - 6:14am
 
Cryptic Posts - Leave Them Guessing - Skydog - May 29, 2016 - 6:10am
 
Back to Last Tuesday - Coaxial - May 29, 2016 - 6:10am
 
The Prince topic - Skydog - May 29, 2016 - 6:04am
 
What did you have for lunch? - Skydog - May 29, 2016 - 5:47am
 
Turkey - Kaw - May 29, 2016 - 3:35am
 
Mixtape Culture Club - Lazy8 - May 28, 2016 - 7:25pm
 
Celebrity Face Recognition - DaveInVA - May 28, 2016 - 5:11pm
 
Post your underwear - BlueHeronDruid - May 27, 2016 - 11:57pm
 
Australia has Disappeared - R_P - May 27, 2016 - 7:18pm
 
Tech & Science - R_P - May 27, 2016 - 7:12pm
 
Back to back - haresfur - May 27, 2016 - 5:37pm
 
RIP Ray Charles - oldviolin - May 27, 2016 - 5:30pm
 
Last gas price paid? - islander - May 27, 2016 - 5:28pm
 
YouTube: Music-Videos - rhahl - May 27, 2016 - 5:18pm
 
Back to the 60's - Skydog - May 27, 2016 - 4:32pm
 
Back to the 40's - R_P - May 27, 2016 - 3:49pm
 
Back To 1969 - buddy - May 27, 2016 - 2:47pm
 
Guns - westslope - May 27, 2016 - 2:22pm
 
Regarding the whole artist royalty fee thing - westslope - May 27, 2016 - 2:10pm
 
Maps • Google • GeoGuessr - ScottFromWyoming - May 27, 2016 - 1:55pm
 
This is Odd, Gross and a good excuse to be late for work - miamizsun - May 27, 2016 - 1:12pm
 
Oklahoma Questions and Points of Interest - sunybuny - May 27, 2016 - 10:52am
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 185, 186, 187  Next
Post to this Topic
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


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 10, 2016 - 4:19pm

Those are some fine ones, fellows. {#Arrowd}  {#Clap}
Manbird
Offal Makes Me Strong! Strong! Strong! Weak! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong! Strong!
Manbird Avatar

Location: Auburn, ca
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Virgo


Posted: Mar 10, 2016 - 4:00pm

Fist

Iron growing in the dark, 
it dreams all night long 
and will not work. A flower 
that hates God, a child 
tearing at itself, this one 
closes on nothing.

Friday, late, 
Detroit Transmission. If I live 
forever, the first clouded light 
of dawn will flood me 
in the cold streams 
north of Pontiac.

It opens and is no longer. 
Bud of anger, kinked 
tendril of my life, here 
in the forged morning 
fill with anything — water, 
light, blood — but fill.

- Philip Levine


oldviolin
ab origine
oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Leo


Posted: Mar 10, 2016 - 9:09am

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

By T. S. Eliot
 

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
               So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
               And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
               And should I then presume?
               And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
               Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
               That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
               “That is not it at all,
               That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Skydog

Skydog Avatar

Location: The Mitten
Gender: Male
Zodiac: Aquarius
Chinese Yr: Snake


Posted: Mar 9, 2016 - 10:36am

Some Day
By Langston Hughes

Once more
The guns roar.
Once more 
The call goes forth for men.
Again
The war begins,
Again
False slogans become a bore.
Yet no one cries:
ENOUGH! NO MORE!
Like angry dogs the human race
Loves the snarl upon its face
It loves to kill 
The pessimist says
It always will.

That I do not belive.

Some day
The savage in us will wear away.
Some day quite clearly
Men will see
How clean and happy life can be
And how,
Like flowers planted in the sun,
We, too, can give forth blossoms,
Shared by everyone.


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 9, 2016 - 6:24am

in today's Writer's Almanac.  Subscribe (free). Get a poem every day along with other literary observation.

Nancy Drew

Merely pretty, she made up for it with vim.
And she got to say things like, “But, gosh,
what if these plans should fall into the wrong
hands?” And it was pretty clear she didn’t mean
plans for a party or a trip to the museum, but
something involving espionage and a Nazi or two.

In fact, the handsome exchange student turns
out to be a Fascist sympathizer. When he snatches
Nancy along with some blueprints, she knows he
has something more sinister in mind than kissing
her with his mouth open.

Locked in the pantry of an abandoned farm house,
Nancy makes a radio out of a shoelace and a muffin.
Pretty soon the police show up, and everything’s
hunky dory.

Nancy accepts their thanks, but she’s subdued.
It’s not like her to fall for a cad. Even as she plans
a short vacation to sort out her emotions she knows
there will be a suspicious waiter, a woman in a green
off the shoulder dress, and her very jittery husband.

Very well. But no more handsome boys like the last one:
the part in his hair that was sheer propulsion, that way
he had of lifting his eyes to hers over the custard,
those feelings that made her not want to be brave
confident and daring, polite, sensitive and caring.

Ron Koertge


Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 185, 186, 187  Next