I agree mossy, so many great choices, i enjoyed both your last choice and alf's....
Layer by layer
Sheathed like Russian dolls
These incarnations of the self.
I wonder if we ever peeled down
to the final minute lady
would we ever know?
I agree mossy, so many great choices, i enjoyed both your last choice and alf's....
Layer by layer
Sheathed like Russian dolls
These incarnations of the self.
I wonder if we ever peeled down
to the final minute lady
would we ever know?
Last edited by freckle; 04-09-2011 at 10:32 PM.
the end of summer arrives
in a packed up vango
and a long drive :-(
Some really wonderful poems in the last week! Have had an exhausting weekend and reading the last few posts has been a perfect way to end the day, thanks!!
Autumn Perspective by Erica JongNow, moving in, cartons on the floor,
the radio playing to bare walls,
picture hooks left stranded
in the unsoiled squares where paintings were,
and something reminding us
this is like all other moving days;
finding the dirty ends of someone else's life,
hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit,
and burned-out matches in the corner;
things not preserved, yet never swept away
like fragments of disturbing dreams
we stumble on all day. . .
in ordering our lives, we will discard them,
scrub clean the floorboards of this our home
lest refuse from the lives we did not lead
become, in some strange, frightening way, our own.
And we have plans that will not tolerate
our fears-- a year laid out like rooms
in a new house--the dusty wine glasses
rinsed off, the vases filled, and bookshelves
sagging with heavy winter books.
Seeing the room always as it will be,
we are content to dust and wait.
We will return here from the dark and silent
streets, arms full of books and food,
anxious as we always are in winter,
and looking for the Good Life we have made.
I see myself then: tense, solemn,
in high-heeled shoes that pinch,
not basking in the light of goals fulfilled,
but looking back to now and seeing
a lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl
in a bare room, full of promise
and feeling envious.
Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.
The room will not change:
a rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint
won't make much difference;
our eyes are fickle
but we remain the same beneath our suntans,
pale, frightened,
dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time,
dreaming our dreaming selves.
I look forward and see myself looking back.
Originally Posted by freckle
Hi folks long time since i've even thought of poems, let alone read or attempt to write.
Just scanned through last few pages and enjoyed reading them, Freckles posting of Satiate reminded me of one of my favourites songs, Somalia, by Landermason...take 5 minutes to listen to it. Live rendition on Youtube not the best but Pauls guitar and the haunting pipes are wonderful.
Hi Everyone !
So many really good poems posted , Freckle's Autumn Perspective summarizes perfectly my thoughts of late , especially the last line ......... I look forward and see myself looking back !
Not sure if this poem has been posted before , I read it for the first time last night !
SOME FILL WITH EACH GOOD RAIN
There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain.
Others are far too deep for that.
In one well you have just a few precious cups of water,
That "love" is literally something of yourself,
It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost.
Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Stranger.
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
There are different wells within us,
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep
For that.
Haviz - translated by D.Ladinsky !
Machgirl that poem is fab...surely it should be a requirement of any potential suitor to carve off a bit of their soul and weave it into a protective blanket ? If they don t tick that box put them out on their ear i say !!!!!.....x
Ps nee bother will check out that tune later
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.
- Author Unknown
Freckle thanks , reading your message made me smile ( and laugh too ) x Reading through the poems I've missed and
well ....... just this thread generally , makes you feel better !
Anyway I don't know if this will be to everyone's taste , but I think it's lovely .
ABSOLUTE LOVE
was defined by the Scholastics
(caritas perfecta) and Pascal
was good on the subject but for
me it is purely personal & con-
crete it has to do with you &
the way you are with me that's
the whole of it and it is as
absolute as anything can be
J.Laughlin
Its definitely to my taste! I really like it Machgirl.
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