Your Favorite Poems

BestButchBoy · 08-25-2015, 07:43 AM

“A Biography in Five Chapters”
Portia Nelson

Chapter One: I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. …I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I’m in this same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I fall in. …It’s a habit … but my eyes are open. I know where I am. I get out immediately.

Chapter Four: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

Chapter Five: I walk down a different street.

VintageFemme · 08-25-2015, 07:38 PM

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

Pablo Neruda

BestButchBoy · 08-26-2015, 06:32 AM

When I Started Loving Myself” - A Poem By Charlie Chaplin Written On His 70th Birthday On April 16, 1959:

When I Started Loving Myself
I Understood That I’m Always And At Any Given Opportunity
In The Right Place At The Right Time.
And I Understood That All That Happens Is Right –
From Then On I Could Be Calm.
Today I Know: It’s Called TRUST.

When I Started To Love Myself I Understood How Much It Can Offend Somebody
When I Tried To Force My Desires On This Person,
Even Though I Knew The Time Is Not Right And The Person Was Not Ready For It,
And Even Though This Person Was Me.
Today I Know: It’s Called LETTING GO

When I Started Loving Myself
I Could Recognize That Emotional Pain And Grief
Are Just Warnings For Me To Not Live Against My Own Truth.
Today I Know: It’s Called AUTHENTICALLY BEING.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Stopped Longing For Another Life
And Could See That Everything Around Me Was A Request To Grow.
Today I Know: It’s Called MATURITY.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Stopped Depriving Myself Of My Free Time
And Stopped Sketching Further Magnificent Projects For The Future.
Today I Only Do What’s Fun And Joy For Me,
What I Love And What Makes My Heart Laugh,
In My Own Way And In My Tempo.
Today I Know: It’s Called HONESTY.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Escaped From All What Wasn’t Healthy For Me,
From Dishes, People, Things, Situations
And From Everyhting Pulling Me Down And Away From Myself.
In The Beginning I Called It The “Healthy Egoism”,
But Today I Know: It’s Called SELF-LOVE.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Stopped Wanting To Be Always Right
Thus I’ve Been Less Wrong.
Today I’ve Recognized: It’s Called HUMBLENESS.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Refused To Live Further In The Past
And Worry About My Future.
Now I Live Only At This Moment Where EVERYTHING Takes Place,
Like This I Live Every Day And I Call It CONSCIOUSNESS.

When I Started Loving Myself
I Recognized, That My Thinking
Can Make Me Miserable And Sick.
When I Requested For My Heart Forces,
My Mind Got An Important Partner.
Today I Call This Connection HEART WISDOM.

We Do Not Need To Fear Further Discussions,
Conflicts And Problems With Ourselves And Others
Since Even Stars Sometimes Bang On Each Other
And Create New Worlds.
Today I Know: THIS IS LIFE!

BestButchBoy · 09-06-2015, 07:00 AM

"Don't look at your form,
however ugly or beautiful.
Look at love
and at the aim of your quest. ...
O you whose lips are parched,
keep looking for water.
Those parched lips
are proof that eventually
you will reach the source."
RUMI

meridiantoo · 09-06-2015, 07:42 AM

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as
Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

gotoseagrl · 09-13-2015, 02:16 PM

Camomile Tea
by Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923)

Outside the sky is light with stars;
There’s a hollow roaring from the sea.
And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.

How little I thought, a year ago,
In the horrible cottage upon the Lee
That he and I should be sitting so
And sipping a cup of camomile tea.

Light as feathers the witches fly,
The horn of the moon is plain to see;
By a firefly under a jonquil flower
A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.

We might be fifty, we might be five,
So snug, so compact, so wise are we!
Under the kitchen-table leg
My knee is pressing against his knee.

Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,
The tap is dripping peacefully;
The saucepan shadows on the wall
Are black and round and plain to see.

PaPa · 09-13-2015, 03:07 PM

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

08-25-2015, 07:43 AM	#1
BestButchBoy Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Male ID Join Date: Dec 2009 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 3,925 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 406 Thanked 5,450 Times in 2,037 Posts Rep Power: 21474855	Changing our lives is difficult but doable. “A Biography in Five Chapters” Portia Nelson Chapter One: I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. …I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. Chapter Two: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I’m in this same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. Chapter Three: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I fall in. …It’s a habit … but my eyes are open. I know where I am. I get out immediately. Chapter Four: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. Chapter Five: I walk down a different street.

08-25-2015, 07:38 PM	#2
VintageFemme Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Femme Relationship Status: Single Join Date: Jul 2011 Location: Outside Posts: 2,299 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 3,828 Thanked 7,620 Times in 1,655 Posts Rep Power: 21474853	When I cannot look at your face I look at your feet. Your feet of arched bone, your hard little feet. I know that they support you, and that your sweet weight rises upon them. Your waist and your breasts, the doubled purple of your nipples, the sockets of your eyes that have just flown away, your wide fruit mouth, your red tresses, my little tower. But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me. Pablo Neruda __________________ Unfinished Business & Open to Serendipity

08-26-2015, 06:32 AM	#3
BestButchBoy Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Male ID Join Date: Dec 2009 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 3,925 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 406 Thanked 5,450 Times in 2,037 Posts Rep Power: 21474855	Love When I Started Loving Myself” - A Poem By Charlie Chaplin Written On His 70th Birthday On April 16, 1959: When I Started Loving Myself I Understood That I’m Always And At Any Given Opportunity In The Right Place At The Right Time. And I Understood That All That Happens Is Right – From Then On I Could Be Calm. Today I Know: It’s Called TRUST. When I Started To Love Myself I Understood How Much It Can Offend Somebody When I Tried To Force My Desires On This Person, Even Though I Knew The Time Is Not Right And The Person Was Not Ready For It, And Even Though This Person Was Me. Today I Know: It’s Called LETTING GO When I Started Loving Myself I Could Recognize That Emotional Pain And Grief Are Just Warnings For Me To Not Live Against My Own Truth. Today I Know: It’s Called AUTHENTICALLY BEING. When I Started Loving Myself I Stopped Longing For Another Life And Could See That Everything Around Me Was A Request To Grow. Today I Know: It’s Called MATURITY. When I Started Loving Myself I Stopped Depriving Myself Of My Free Time And Stopped Sketching Further Magnificent Projects For The Future. Today I Only Do What’s Fun And Joy For Me, What I Love And What Makes My Heart Laugh, In My Own Way And In My Tempo. Today I Know: It’s Called HONESTY. When I Started Loving Myself I Escaped From All What Wasn’t Healthy For Me, From Dishes, People, Things, Situations And From Everyhting Pulling Me Down And Away From Myself. In The Beginning I Called It The “Healthy Egoism”, But Today I Know: It’s Called SELF-LOVE. When I Started Loving Myself I Stopped Wanting To Be Always Right Thus I’ve Been Less Wrong. Today I’ve Recognized: It’s Called HUMBLENESS. When I Started Loving Myself I Refused To Live Further In The Past And Worry About My Future. Now I Live Only At This Moment Where EVERYTHING Takes Place, Like This I Live Every Day And I Call It CONSCIOUSNESS. When I Started Loving Myself I Recognized, That My Thinking Can Make Me Miserable And Sick. When I Requested For My Heart Forces, My Mind Got An Important Partner. Today I Call This Connection HEART WISDOM. We Do Not Need To Fear Further Discussions, Conflicts And Problems With Ourselves And Others Since Even Stars Sometimes Bang On Each Other And Create New Worlds. Today I Know: THIS IS LIFE!

09-06-2015, 07:42 AM	#5
meridiantoo Member How Do You Identify?: A Speck in the Milky Way Preferred Pronoun?: Her, She Relationship Status: Monogamous relationship Join Date: Jan 2013 Location: The Milky Way Posts: 1,441 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 3,806 Thanked 2,297 Times in 889 Posts Rep Power: 16305605	e.e. cummings - somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me,i and my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands e.e. cummings __________________ “Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.” ― Wallace Stevens

09-13-2015, 02:16 PM	#6
gotoseagrl Senior Member How Do You Identify?: old-fashioned queer stone submissive girl Preferred Pronoun?: mermaid, very lucky babygirl Relationship Status: Saltwater mermaid ♡ Join Date: May 2010 Location: CA Posts: 2,209 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 5,192 Thanked 6,103 Times in 1,727 Posts Rep Power: 21474854	Camomile Tea Camomile Tea by Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923) Outside the sky is light with stars; There’s a hollow roaring from the sea. And, alas! for the little almond flowers, The wind is shaking the almond tree. How little I thought, a year ago, In the horrible cottage upon the Lee That he and I should be sitting so And sipping a cup of camomile tea. Light as feathers the witches fly, The horn of the moon is plain to see; By a firefly under a jonquil flower A goblin toasts a bumble-bee. We might be fifty, we might be five, So snug, so compact, so wise are we! Under the kitchen-table leg My knee is pressing against his knee. Our shutters are shut, the fire is low, The tap is dripping peacefully; The saucepan shadows on the wall Are black and round and plain to see. __________________ Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot. D. H. Lawrence

09-06-2015, 07:00 AM	#4
BestButchBoy Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Male ID Join Date: Dec 2009 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 3,925 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 406 Thanked 5,450 Times in 2,037 Posts Rep Power: 21474855	"Don't look at your form, however ugly or beautiful. Look at love and at the aim of your quest. ... O you whose lips are parched, keep looking for water. Those parched lips are proof that eventually you will reach the source." RUMI

09-13-2015, 03:07 PM	#7
PaPa Senior Member How Do You Identify?: GQ Butch Daddy Relationship Status: A Very Protective BIG Daddy... Join Date: Mar 2010 Location: Pennsylvania Posts: 2,657 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 7,597 Thanked 5,871 Times in 1,530 Posts Rep Power: 21474854	Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?