Today's poet

My goodness Freckle, you're doing a sterling job here keeping the thread warm all on your lonesome, so let's lend a hand with trusty ol' Sylvia....

Mirror

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Can really begin to relate to those last two lines after a 'hectic' Saturday night :rolleyes:

I will echo Mossy and say well done young freckle for some excellent postings over the last couple of days http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...ebit/Cool2.gif

I am resting my old bones after the exertions of Wasdale yesterday so here's my selection and I just hope I am not the fool waiting for an answer :D


Questions

By the sea, the wild nocturnal sea,
Stands a stripling-man;
His breast full of woe, his mind full of doubt,
And with gloomy lips he questions the waves:

' 0 solve me the riddle of life,
The torturing ancient riddle
So many heads have brooded upon,
Heads in hieroglyph-covered hats.
In turbans and birettas of black,
Heads bewigged and a thousand more
Poor, perspiring human heads -
Tell me, what does Man signify
Whence does he come? and whither go?
Who dwells up there in the golden stars?'

They murmur, waves, their eternal murmur,
The wind it blows, the clouds run free,
The stars shine on, Indifferent and cold,
And a fool waits for an answer.

Heinrich Heine

And a little illustration by Caspar David Friedrich called 'The Monk by the Sea'

http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...gebit/monk.jpg

That's really wonderful Alf - thanks

Dear Mossy and Alf thank you for such wonderful posts....Mossy I really liked those last two lines too (as painful as they were to read!) Alf that illustration is beautiful....really enigmatic....

Well I have had the most wonderful evening......;)

and am off to hunt out a relevant poem.............................................. .......sigh

ps Alf, well done on completing Wasdale...stuff of dreams for me at the minute! i was tired enough doing a 14 miler along the coast today ! lord knows how I will keep up with some of the fell poets when we trot off to meet Armitage...ah well I'll enjoy the stroll back with the boy himself! looking forward to a chilled out evening

Palpar

Mis manos
abren las cortinas de tu ser
te visten con otra desnudez
descubren los cuerpos de tu cuerpo
Mis manos
inventan otro cuerpo a tu cuerpo

Octavio Paz

True Love

BY SHARON OLDS

In the middle of the night, when we get up
after making love, we look at each other in
complete friendship, we know so fully
what the other has been doing. Bound to each other
like mountaineers coming down from a mountain,
bound with the tie of the delivery room,
we wander down the hall to the bathroom, I can
hardly walk, I wobble through the granular
shadowless air, I know where you are
with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other
with huge invisible threads, our sexes
muted, exhausted, crushed, the whole
body a sex—surely this
is the most blessed time of my life,
our children asleep in their beds, each fate
like a vein of abiding mineral
not discovered yet. I sit
on the toilet in the night, you are somewhere in the room,
I open the window and snow has fallen in a
steep drift, against the pane, I
look up, into it,
a wall of cold crystals, silent
and glistening, I quietly call to you
and you come and hold my hand and I say
I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.

Another one by Sharon - worth a listen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYe7B...eature=related

I love Sharon Olds and these are beautiful choices, I have read that first one before and really liked it but not the second so was particularly pleased you posted it, great stuff! thank you ...

Well I am sitting here with a glass of wine in hand and crudites and hummus (well gotta get the healthy bit in) and was just thinking Monday can be a funny old night for the parted ....

I read this earlier and think it is really touching....

from Trilogy for X

And love hung still as crystal over the bed
And filled the corners of the enormous room;
the boom of dawn that left her sleeping, showing
The flowers mirrored in the mahogany table.
O my love, if only I were able
To protect this hour of quiet after passion,
Not ration happiness but keep this door for ever
Closed on the world, its own world closed within it.
But dawn's waves trouble with the bubbling minute,
the names of books come clear upon their shelves,
the reason delves for duty and you will wake
With a start and go on living on your own.
The first train passes and the windows groan,
Voices will hector and your voice become
A drum in tune with theirs, which all last night
Like sap that fingered through a hungry tree
Asserted our one night's identity.

Louis Macneice

I love this Alf and the painting is gorgeous! Thanks for posting.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

I will echo Mossy and say well done young freckle for some excellent postings over the last couple of days http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...ebit/Cool2.gif

I am resting my old bones after the exertions of Wasdale yesterday so here's my selection and I just hope I am not the fool waiting for an answer :D


Questions

By the sea, the wild nocturnal sea,
Stands a stripling-man;
His breast full of woe, his mind full of doubt,
And with gloomy lips he questions the waves:

' 0 solve me the riddle of life,
The torturing ancient riddle
So many heads have brooded upon,
Heads in hieroglyph-covered hats.
In turbans and birettas of black,
Heads bewigged and a thousand more
Poor, perspiring human heads -
Tell me, what does Man signify
Whence does he come? and whither go?
Who dwells up there in the golden stars?'

They murmur, waves, their eternal murmur,
The wind it blows, the clouds run free,
The stars shine on, Indifferent and cold,
And a fool waits for an answer.

Heinrich Heine

And a little illustration by Caspar David Friedrich called 'The Monk by the Sea'

http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...gebit/monk.jpg

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Freckle and Mossy, I have truly loved your recent posts on love. They resonate with me very much right now. Thank you and apologies for not being on here to help keep the home fires burning recently!