Your fav poem

[D_BenJo_Ahanakokolele]

I like you. We could get along famously.

Miracles. Events with astronomical odds of occurring, like oxygen turning into gold. I've longed to witness such an event, and yet I neglect that in human coupling, millions upon millions of cells compete to create life, for generation after generation until, finally, your mother loves a man, Edward Blake, the Comedian, a man she has every reason to hate, and out of that contradiction, against unfathomable odds, it's you - only you - that emerged. To distill so specific a form, from all that chaos. It's like turning air into gold. A miracle.

-Dr. Manhattan

Watchmen... lol


"Our bodies are prisons for our souls. Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement. But fear not. All flesh decays. Death turns all to ash. And thus, death frees every soul."

I want this as a tattoo.

 

[Dorian_Gray]

Watchmen... lol


"Our bodies are prisons for our souls. Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement. But fear not. All flesh decays. Death turns all to ash. And thus, death frees every soul."

I want this as a tattoo.

The Fountain. MY. FAVORITE. MOVIE. EVER.

 

[D_BenJo_Ahanakokolele]

Virginia Woolf: Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.

 

[D_BenJo_Ahanakokolele]

The Fountain. MY. FAVORITE. MOVIE. EVER.

mine as well.

 

[eurotop40]

"Mignon" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) (english translation below)

1. Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn,
Im dunkeln Laub die Goldorangen glühn,
Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht?
Kennst du es wohl? Dahin!
Dahin möcht' ich mit dir,
O mein Geliebter, ziehn.

2. Kennst du das Haus? Auf Sälen ruht sein Dach,
Es glänzt der Saal, es schimmert das Gemach,
Und Marmorbilder stehn und sehn mich an:
Was hat man dir, du armes Kind, getan?
Kennst du es wohl? Dahin!
Dahin möcht' ich mit dir,
O mein Beschützer, ziehn.

3. Kennst du den Berg und seinen Wolkensteg?
Das Maultier such im Nebel seinen Weg,
In Höhlen wohnt der Drachen alte Brut;
Es stürzt der Fels und über ihn die Flut.
Kennst du ihn wohl? Dahin!
Dahin geht unser Weg!
O Vater, laß uns ziehn!

Knowest thou where the lemon blossom grows, In foliage dark the orange golden glows, A gentle breeze blows from the azure sky, Still stands the myrtle, and the laurel, high? Dost know it well? 'Tis there! 'Tis there Would I with thee, oh my beloved, fare. Knowest the house, its roof on columns fine? Its hall glows brightly and its chambers shine, And marble figures stand and gaze at me: What have they done, oh wretched child, to thee? Dost know it well? 'Tis there! 'Tis there Would I with thee, oh my protector, fare. Knowest the mountain with the misty shrouds? The mule is seeking passage through the clouds; In caverns dwells the dragons' ancient brood; The cliff rocks plunge under the rushing flood! Dost know it well? 'Tis there! 'Tis there Leads our path! Oh father, let us fare.

 

[nudeyorker]

I Imagine Angels by Guillaume Apollinaire (I made a batik print of this) I Imagine Angels - Poetry Society of America Click on the image to enlarge.

 

[Dorian_Gray]

You is kind.
You is smart.
You is important.

 

[ggsitc]

In general I am not a big fan of poetry, but at odd times I'll quote snippets of poems. Lines from Poe's "Raven," Frost's "Two Roads Diverged in a Snowy Wood," stuff like that, and have enough of an awareness of other poems to get some literary jokes based on them. Where all that came from I have no idea, since as I said, I am not a big fan of poetry. I guess my liberal arts education exposed me to enough that some of it stuck.

 

[D_BenJo_Ahanakokolele]

You is kind.
You is smart.
You is important.

The help...

 

[MistaMasta]

Alas, they had been friends in youth,
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in realms above,
And life is thorny, youth is vain,
And to be wroth with one you love,
Doth work like madness in the brain.

But never either found another,
To free the hollow heart from paining.
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs that had been rent asunder,
A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, not frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away I we'en,
The marks of that which once hath been.

Coleridge.

 

[HUNGHUGE11X7]

It would be nearly impossible for me to choose a favorite piece of poetry.
I have such a vast array of poems I love and all of them move me in different ways. Instead I thought I would present one of my own, which happens to be one of my most beloved poems, out of the many I have composed.
It was born out of great anguish much like giving birth and after being born the joy remains where the pain is distant. Any artist of any kind knows precisely what I mean by that sentiment.

I was reading my poem before posting and like Plato said "All is flux, nothing stays still" so I made tweaks to the poem as I believe art is ever changing. Most of my poems rhyme but this is done in free verse which I find easier in moments of emotional chaos lol

This will especially hit home for someone that has had to endure the trials of a long-distance relationship.

UNION of SOULS​

Have we loved before ? Have we embraced before ? When we talk is this the first time our souls reach out to one other or do they know what our minds have not realized ?
Is this union born of a time long ago and just as everything else returns from where it came, have we found each other again after being away from home for so long ?​

Eventhough my mind knows only of you in months, my heart feels like you have always been there and my soul knows time nor age when thinking of you, seeming as if there has not been a time when I did not love you.
Since fate has placed such cruel conditions on our love why is it that we are so drawn to one another only to have to live with the distance that keeps us apart?​

To say I love you though true, seems so inadequate. To say I feel I'm part of you and you of me, that when you breath I feel it, that when you hurt I know it and when you smile I am warmed.... is truer still.
I dont question IF I love you nor if YOU love me because my soul, more infinite in wisdom than this lowly mortal could ever be knows this to be true. My questions are born from fear and doubt placed upon me by the past which still haunts me.​

I know not what the future holds but I do know that it would be most cruel for the universe to let us have but a taste of our souls' desire, that which we have yearned for and longed for only to take it away from us or allow us to continue to go on from day to day not being allowed to know the beauty of this expression which time created. ​

Feeling you so deep in my heart and to the depths of my soul gives me great joy but great sorrow for the arms that long to hold you, the eyes that long to gaze upon yours and the body which longs to lay next to yours is but a dream which keeps me captive to Desire.​

My heart says we will be with each other soon, learning to live and love, to laugh and cry.
Knowing each other, as we grow through the years in our journey that we are given not for the first time, but for all of time.​

 

[Hijetala]

I have shut my heart
As one shuts an open door
That Love may starve therein
And trouble me no more.

But over the roofs there came
The wet new wind of May
And a tune blew up from the curb
Where the street-pianos play.

My room was white with the sun
And Love cried out in me
"I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free.''

 

[Hijetala]

I have come to bury Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.

I shall put no flowers at his head,
Nor stone at his feet,
For the mouth I loved so much
Was bittersweet.

I shall go no more to his grave,
For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy
As my hands can hold.

I shall stay all day in the sun
Where the wide winds blow, --
But oh, I shall cry at night
When none will know.

Until I lose my soul and lie
Blind to the beauty of the earth,
Deaf though shouting wind goes by,
Dumb in a storm of mirth;

Until my heart is quenched at length
And I have left the land of men,
Oh, let me love with all my strength
Careless if I am loved again.

 

[Notthe7]

A Noiseless Patient Spider


A NOISELESS, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.


Antigonish
Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

 

[Hijetala]

Antigonish
Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

love this one

I walked a mile with Pleasure.
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And never a word said she;
But oh, the things
I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!

 

[D_Fiona_Farvel]

Modern:
What I Will by Suheir Hammad
Text: TED Blog | Text of “What I Will” by Suheir Hammad (excerpt below)
Video: Suheir Hammad: Poems of war, peace, women, power | Video on TED.com

I will not pop
spin or beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t
louder than this breath.


Classic:
Requiem by Anna Akhmatova
Poetry Lovers' Page - Anna Akhmatova: Requiem

^ As someone who loves Chekhov and Tolstoy, this sort of long, detailed, dense imagery filled poem speaks to all I loved about poets who can take the reader on a journey and help you feel their experiences.

 

[ramsgate18]

after the lunch
by Wendy cope

On Waterloo bridge Where we said our goodbyes
The weather conditions bring tears to my eyes
I wipe them away with a black wooly glove
And try not to notice I've fallen in love

On Waterloo bridge I am trying to think
This is nothing you're high on the charm and the drink
But the jukebox inside me is playing a song
That says something different and when was it wrong?

On Waterloo bridge with te wind in my hair
I'm tempted to skip, You're a fool I don't care
The head does its best but the heart is the boss
I admit it before I am halfway across

 

[mpg5mpg5]

robert frost,
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

 

[Hijetala]

Modern:
What I Will by Suheir Hammad


I will not pop
spin or beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t
louder than this breath.

thanks so much for sharing this! love it

 

[Hijetala]

There are older ways to count out days
say the children of the night
who were born upon the black of dawn
plain view but out of sight
but words are wind and wisdom and
I don’t intend to die
without the confirmation that
only the blind can buy
So I listen for whispers and I shun the world of light
come visit like a lover and embrace me darkest night

There are ancient arts to slow the hearts
of man amidst the mire
and the death of life, the pain and strife
to quell this raging fire
and beating slow you better know
that weight is in the thought
not out among the sweating speed
the working man has bought
So blurred the world around me,
I can see a few still clear
some who take the time to matter,
those who beg to be held near

There’s a secret speech that they don’t teach
in soft suburban schools
To rent apart a listener’s heart
that sounds foreign to fools
but like a song learned and strong
felt like a forehead kiss
and read as written just for you
It looks a lot like this
for you the blind and meaningful,
for you the wise with words
for you the unembarrassed
when caught speaking with the birds