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Nat 05-20-2010 09:47 PM

Speak in Poetry
 

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

Enchantress 05-20-2010 09:56 PM

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Nat 05-21-2010 05:26 AM

needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.
-----------
All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire

Semantics 05-21-2010 07:48 AM

And he himself, as he lay there, relieved, with the sweetness
of the gentle world you had made for him dissolving beneath
his drowsy eyelids, into the foretaste of sleep-:
he seemed protected . . . But inside: who could ward off,
who could divert, the floods of origin inside him?

Ah, there was no trace of caution in that sleeper; sleeping,
yes but dreaming, but flushed with what fevers: how he
threw himself in.
All at once new, trembling, how he was caught up
and entangled in the spreading tendrils of inner event
already twined into patterns, into strangling undergrowth,
prowling
bestial shapes. How he submitted-. Loved.

TickledPink 05-21-2010 08:16 AM

Then dark with dripping blood it gave a howl
and cried again: 'Our damaged branches ache!
Your pillage maims me! Can't you feel at all?

We who were men are now this barren brake.
You'd grant us your respect and stay your hand
were we a thicket not of souls but snakes.'

As wood still green starts burning at one end
and from its unlit end the burning stick
drips sap, and hisses with escaping wind,

so from the broken stump there oozed a mix
of words and blood: a frothy babbling gore.
I dropped the branch. My fear had made me sick.

'Poor wounded soul, could he have grasped before,'
my sage replied, 'what now he sees is true,
and blindly trusted in poetic lore,

then he need not have so insulted you.
But as there was no other way to learn
I urged him to a test that grieved me too.

Tell us who you were, that he, in turn,
can set your honor freshly back in style
among those he will teach when he returns.'

The trunk: 'Your speech, by raising hope that I'll
regain repute, makes words arise in me.
I mean to talk, if you will stay a while:

I was the one entrusted with the keys
to Federigo's mind, and it was sweet
to share his thought and guard his strategy

for noble ventures secret in my keep —
so faithfully I filled this glorious post,
I gladly sacrificed my health and sleep...'

Dante Alighieri

Nat 05-21-2010 09:48 AM

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.

Enchantress 05-21-2010 09:29 PM

"The rain came down.
Hard, and soft.
It hit the grass.
Green, and wet.
Wet.
So wet.
It reminded me of you.
You always smelled like the rain."

Nat 05-21-2010 11:43 PM

if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself
...
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,--

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

Miami 05-22-2010 03:58 AM

Love, can you hear me?
I call to thee incessantly,
yet you turn a deaf ear
to all my wretched pleas,
and send only women
who would put me on
my knees,
for shame, oh fate,
to pay me so foully,
what have I done to
deserve this from thee?
Have I not been faithful,
and placed upon your pyre
my heart as solemn sacrifice?
And yet you seek to torment me,
By sending one wench after another,
to break what is unbreakable,
try as you might,
I will love as I will,
heart broken I may be,
But my spirit will never bow down
to your defeat.

Enchantress 05-22-2010 05:21 PM

O the transformation
of feeling into what?
Into audible landscape.
Music: you stranger. Passion which
has outgrown us. Our inner most being,
transcending, driven out of us,
holiest of departures:
inner worlds now
the most practiced of distances, as
the other side of thin air:
pure,
immense
no longer habitable...

.

Enchantress 05-22-2010 10:54 PM

this is the garden:colours come and go,
frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing
strong silent greens serenely lingering,
absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
This is the garden pursed lips do blow
upon cool flutes within wide glooms,and sing
(of harps celestial to the quivering string)
invisible faces hauntingly and slow...

Nat 05-23-2010 07:29 AM

I am a feather on the bright sky
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

I am the evening light, the lustre of meadows
I am the farthest star
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

I am the long track of the moon in a lake
I am the hunger of a young wolf
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

I am the whole dream of these things
You see, I am alive, I am alive
I stand in good relation to the earth
I stand in good relation to the gods
I stand in good relation to all that is beautiful
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

You see, I am alive, I am alive
(Mashup of The Delight Song of Tsoai-Talee by N. Scott Momaday and Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens)

Nat 05-24-2010 09:43 AM

You will carry this suture
into the future
the past never passes
it simply amasses

Enchantress 05-24-2010 10:49 PM

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Enchantress 05-27-2010 11:09 PM

You, who are all
the gardens I've ever looked upon,
full of promise. An open window
in a country house, and you almost stepped
towards me, thoughtfully. Sidestreets I happened upon,
you had just passed through them,
and sometimes, in the small shops of sellers, the mirrors
were still dizzy with you and gave back, frightened,
my too sudden form. Who is to say if the same
bird did not resound through us both
yesterday, separate, in the evening?

Passionaria 05-27-2010 11:41 PM

tenderly
 

"The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly
The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly
Then you and I came wandering by
And lost in a sigh were we
The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly
I can't forget how two hearts met breathlessly
Your arms opened wide and closed me inside
You took my lips, you took my love so tenderly"



:rose:

Soon 05-28-2010 05:46 AM

What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.

I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.

Nat 05-28-2010 06:41 AM

And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
Each one.
I stood upright too,
Held rigid to the pattern
By the stiffness of my gown.
Up and down I walked,
Up and down.

:)

Enchantress 05-28-2010 07:12 AM

Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play...

Nat 05-28-2010 12:02 PM

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

Soon 05-28-2010 12:13 PM

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

Kätzchen 05-28-2010 12:25 PM

Pablo Neruda | Leaning into the afternoons
 


One of my favorites by Neruda

:blueheels:

Nat 05-29-2010 02:28 AM

I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem,
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

O I have been dilatory and dumb,
I should have made my way straight to you long ago,
I should have blabb'd nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you.

I will leave all and come and make the hymns of you,
None has understood you, but I understand you,
...
None but would subordinate you, I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you,
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself.

Painters have painted their swarming groups and the centre-figure of all,
From the head of the centre-figure spreading a nimbus of gold-color'd light,
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of gold-color'd light,
From my hand from the brain of every man and woman it streams, effulgently flowing forever.

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are, you have slumber'd upon yourself all your life

Soon 05-29-2010 02:44 AM


These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of
apparent dissolution, you are he or she who is master or
mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements,
pain, passion, dissolution.

The hopples fall from your ankles, you find an unfailing
sufficiency,
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest,
whatever you are promulges itself,
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided,
nothing is scanted,
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what
you are picks its way.

Nat 05-29-2010 10:25 AM

I stood before the mirror
Like an open-ended cavern
Like a breath held inhaled, holding,
And I barely knew my name
I barely knew my name my friend
I barely knew my name
It makes me think of this my friend
Where do I live in me?


O it's a planet of resistance
It's a whirling flame of choice
Are you my comrades in persistence
I swear they'll know us by our voice
Though we lay down in dusty corners
We are ragged as a scar
And when we rest our eyes stay open
We are always off to war
We're always off to war my friend
We're always off to war
And it makes my think of this my friend
Where can the quiet be?


O is it up the misty mountain
Where wild flowers bind the ground
Is it down by the rushing river
Where force wears those boulders down
Is it underneath my covers
Is it trapped inside my brain
Is it up above the misty mountain
Is it up above the rushing river
Is it up above the bed of longing
Where the eagle takes the wind?

TickledPink 05-31-2010 12:13 AM

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

Enchantress 06-03-2010 09:50 PM

Drink from the presence of saints,
not from those other jars.

Every object, every being,
is a jar full of delight.

Be a conoisseur,
and taste with caution.

Any wine will get you high.
Judge like a king, and choose the purest,

the ones unadulterated with fear,
or some urgency about "what's needed."

Drink the wine that moves you
as a camel moves when it's been untied,

and is just ambling about.

Nat 06-03-2010 10:36 PM

Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken
Only we can convert the infidel tonight.

Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities
multiply me at once under your spell tonight.

He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He’s left open—for God—the doors of Hell tonight.

In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed
No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight

God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day—
I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.

Executioners near the woman at the window.
Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.

Diva 06-03-2010 10:58 PM

Each flower sent is bound in my hair in circles...
bound and wound, 'round and 'round.
Till I am surrounded by the flowers You sent, surrounding me.
Stubborn weeds need water, too,
And flowers 'round profounded me.

Most willingly, I bend to Thee,
And let Your posies take me.
But then the game is gambled, laid.
And I am left to make me.

Wake up and smell the roses grown.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Wake up and write the dream You live.
Wake up and live, but softly.




Nat 06-03-2010 11:12 PM

The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Enchantress 06-03-2010 11:19 PM



With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracing her longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

Enchantress 06-05-2010 12:01 AM

When I love
I become liquid light
invisible to the eye
and the poems in my notebooks
become fields of mimosa and poppy.

When I love
the water gushes from my fingers
grass grows on my tongue
when I love
I become time outside all time.

Kätzchen 06-05-2010 01:27 PM


Enchantress 06-09-2010 07:38 PM

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and are a cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile...

Nat 06-13-2010 10:12 PM

Shall I dare to eat a peach?
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
Oh your voice, slow and sad!
Dark riverbeds where the eternal thirst flows

You look like a world lying in surrender
My rough, peasant's body digs in you
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you
I will persist in your grace

Enchantress 06-15-2010 09:45 PM

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone...

Enchantress 06-18-2010 10:38 PM

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.

Don't go back to sleep.

Nat 06-18-2010 10:47 PM

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

Enchantress 06-19-2010 10:55 PM

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall?
And we did make so many!
For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.

Enchantress 06-20-2010 08:45 PM

"Beauty is that which attracts your soul,
and that which loves to give and not to receive.
When you meet Beauty,
you feel that the hands deep within your inner self
are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart.
It is the magnificence combined of sorrow and joy;
it is the Unseen which you see,
and the Vague which you understand,
and the Mute which you hear
it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself
and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination."


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