@fondlyRegarding — #poetryposting
She hears, upon that water without sound, A voice that cries, “The tomb in Palestine Is not the porch of spirits lingering. It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.” We live in an old chaos of the sun, Or old dependency of day and night, Or island solitude, unsponsored, free, Of that wide water, inescapable. Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail Whistle about us their spontaneous cries; Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness; And, in the isolation of the sky, At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink, Downward to darkness, on extended wings. -an exce...Read more
But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. -Excerpt from Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Trolle #poetryposting
He said, Look. Look. And they did. He said, Lift up your shirt. And I did. He slid his fork beneath my ribs — Yes, he sang. A Jesus side wound. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. He reached inside and turned on the lamp — I never knew I was also a lamp — until the light fell out of me, dripped down my thigh, flew up in me, caught in my throat like a canary. Canaries really means dogs, he said My Brother My Wound by Natalie Diaz #poetryposting
The mirror hung there He beheld a face within That was not his own An attempt at #horrorhaiku that @callouslyCynical proposed people try. It wasn't very easy at all, but a fun exercise all the same. #poetryposting #haikus
Keep thinking about it. "I am also the moon in the trees and the blind woman's tea cup. But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife. You are still the bread and the knife. You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine." Do you ever get a portion of poem trapped in your head? #poetryposting
You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass and the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker, and the marsh birds suddenly in flight. However, you are not the wind in the orchard, the plums on the counter, or the house of cards. And you are certainly not the pine-scented air. There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air. It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, maybe even the pigeon on the general's head, but you are not even close to being the field of cornflowers at dusk. And a q...Read more
A haiku by one of the great masters, Kobayashi Issa as translated by Zoria P.K. 花の陰赤の他人はなかりけり (hana no kage aka no tanin wa nakari keri) Under the cherry blossoms strangers are not really strangers #poetryposting #haiku
Age saw two quiet children Go loving by at twilight, He knew not whether homeward, Or outward from the village, Or (chimes were ringing) churchward, He waited, (they were strangers) Till they were out of hearing To bid them both be happy. "Be happy, happy, happy, And seize the day of pleasure." -Excerpt from Carpie Diem by Robert Frost #poetryposting
I can't wait to live a good life with you. To have coffee in the morning and love in the afternoon. To hold your hand. To kiss your face. To love you loudly, in front of everyone and then quiet again just between us. -on repeat. from She is the poem by June Bates
“We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?” -Goblin Market, Christina Rossetti #poetryposting #Seems-fitting-right-now
On the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song, As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future. A vast similitude interlocks all, All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, All distances of place however wide, All distances of time, all inanimate forms, All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds, All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes, All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages, Al...Read more
Like a fiend in a cloud With howling woe, After night I do croud, And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increas'd; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain. -Mad Song by William Blake #poetryposting
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun: Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire, Where my Sun-flower wishes to go. -William Blake #poetryposting
Feeling inspired by the William Blake I'm seeing across the timeline. I will share another poem of his that's quite lovely if a little dark. It's called "The Poison Tree." I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. And into my garden stole, When the night had veild...Read more
O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. -A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns #poetryposting
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. -Oh me! Oh life!, Walt Whitman #poetryposting #inspiredfromearlier
To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. — Auguries of Innocence, William Blake #poetryposting
Rabbit heart beats fast The entirety of me Wants to know her will #haiku #poetryposting #original
In honor of #yuriday and to continue more #poetryposting, here's an excerpt of Sappho's writings. He seems to me equal to gods that man 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 I am and dead—or almost I seem to me.
the young man watched the snow through the windows. he wanted to stay in that cafe forever. the curious feeling swam through him that everything was beautiful there, that it would always stay beautiful there. -nirvana, Charles Bukowski #poetryposting
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 that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray 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 min...Read more