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Poetry Please start one thread for your own poetry and just add to it! |
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#1 |
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Love Song
by Henry Dumas Beloved, I have to adore the earth: The wind must have heard your voice once. It echoes and sings like you. The soil must have tasted you once. It is laden with your scent. The trees honor you in gold and blush when you pass. I know why the north country is frozen. It has been trying to preserve your memory. I know why the desert burns with fever. It was wept too long without you. On hands and knees, the ocean begs up the beach, and falls at your feet. I have to adore the mirror of the earth. You have taught her well how to be beautiful.
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#2 |
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The Moon by Emily Dickinson
The moon was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of amplest blond; Her cheek like beryl stone; Her eye unto the summer dew The likest I have known. Her lips of amber never part; But what must be the smile Upon her friend she could bestow Were such her silver will! And what a privilege to be But the remotest star! For certainly her way might pass Beside your twinkling door. Her bonnet is the firmament, The universe her shoe, The stars the trinkets at her belt, Her dimities of blue.
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#3 |
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I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers, and thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close |
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#4 |
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O hour of my muse: why do you leave me,
Wounding me by the wingbeats of your flight? Alone: what shall I use my mouth to utter? How shall I pass my days? And how my nights? I have no one to love. I have no home. There is no center to sustain my life. All things to which I give myself grow rich and leave me spent, impoverished, alone. Rainer Maria Rilke |
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#5 |
Member
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I find it very difficult to enthuse
Over the current news. Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens, And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons. Ogden Nash |
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