Paired Things
by Kay Ryan
Who, who had only seen wings,
could extrapolate the
skinny sticks of things
birds use for land,
the backward way they bend,
the silly way they stand?
And who, only studying
birdtracks in the sand,
could think those little forks
had decamped on the wind?
So many paired things seem odd.
Who ever would have dreamed
the broad winged raven of despair
would quit the air and go
bandylegged upon the ground,
a common crow?
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...do?poemId=8480
Two Campers in Cloud Country
Sylvia Plath
(Rock Lake, Canada)
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention,
No word make them carry water or fire the kindling
Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being.
Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants a vacation
Where trees and clouds and animals pay no notice;
Away from the labeled elms, the tame tea-roses.
It took three days driving north to find a cloud
The polite skies over Boston couldn't possibly accommodate.
Here on the last frontier of the big, brash spirit
The horizons are too far off to be chummy as uncles;
The colors assert themselves with a sort of vengeance.
Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions
And night arrives in one gigantic step.
It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.
These rocks offer no purchase to herbage or people:
They are conceiving a dynasty of perfect cold.
In a month we'll wonder what plates and forks are for.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
The Pilgrims and Indians might never have happened.
Planets pulse in the lake like bright amoebas;
The pines blot our voices up in their lightest sighs.
Around our tent the old simplicities sough
Sleepily as Lethe, trying to get in.
We'll wake blank-brained as water in the dawn.
Am Yisrael Chai
Mossy I love that line "it is comfortable for a change to mean so little" ....so relevant to fell running....thanks for the plath we have been missing her without realising I think...
and now for something completely different....
'Our revels now are ended'
Our revels now are ended.
These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare From The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1
Originally Posted by freckle
I like Kay Ryan and that poem is one of her best freckle.
It's always good when your "broad winged raven of despair" finally lands
Well good evening alf....no offering tonight? ...go onI like Kay Ryan and that poem is one of her best freckle.
It's always good when your "broad winged raven of despair" finally lands)
I like that Mossy, there's some great lines in it like "No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention," I feel a bit like that in the lake district
I have been listening to Willy Nelson at Glastonbury (from my armchair) while dipping into the poetry thread. No poetry offerings thoughWell good evening alf....no offering tonight? ...go on, I have my car workshop manual open but its not the same
I have been listening to Willy Nelson at Glastonbury (from my armchair) while dipping into the poetry thread. No poetry offerings though
What a cute image (you in your arm chair I mean)...well having a rather unremarkable night here in the north east tonight, wishing i was at glastonbury actually! thank god i will see some hills tomorrow even tho no doubt it will involve a lot of huffing and puffing for these road running legs!...here is one from maya angelou....i really wanted to post "still i rise" but have posted it about 20 times before so here is something different....
Caged Bird
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
Which car? My car doesn't have it's own manual, i've got my engine in one and my bodywork in another...the wiring is a combination of the two.
Well when I say "workshop manual" I mean Haynes manualWhich car? My car doesn't have it's own manual, i've got my engine in one and my bodywork in another...the wiring is a combination of the two. I have been replacing a track rod end and fitting new discs and pads to my Mk V Fiesta. I have the skinned knuckles to prove it
At the risk of this thread starting to resemble practical car mechanics better add in a quick poem before freckle has me barred
We real cool
THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote
