Your Favorite Poems

[atomiczombie]

Originally Posted by evolveme

STOLEN MOMENTS

What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory—an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge—
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.

- Kim Addonizio

Wow, this is so sensual and erotic, with a touch of pain mixed in. Very powerful!

[Rook]

The Garden of Love
William Blake
I went to the Garden of Love, of Love
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet Bowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

[Rook]

The Divine Image
William Blake
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
An to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every dime
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

[Rook]

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
Federico Garcia Lorca
Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

[Passionaria]

Originally Posted by Rook

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
Federico Garcia Lorca
Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

" never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn "

these word cross my mind like a sad yearning kiss...... Pash i

[Passionaria]

November 2, 2009 - Monday


left over change
in the stories of her tears
he felt those long ago sounds
some of yesterdays distortions
spilling into the sound of today
like a mindfull of left over change
parts of her life spent living the past

those times of more shadows then light
the castings of clouds that drift with her
where ever life takes her some memories
wage their own battle about remembering

good memories and bad memories locked in strugglings
the many twists of fate seem to favor the bad memories
these everyday balancing acts of when and what to trust
to many times the bringers of hurt leave their imprinting
like lingerings threads weaving pain into fear into masks
wearing life as a disguise buying time to get through now

those times of more light then shadows
the saving grace of those drifting clouds
the splashing of bright a scattering light
flashing glimpses of laughing in dreams

laughter feels better when the smiles are real
and her heart and her spirit need more of that
doing the best she can do in the circumstances
finding her way to get through clouds that drift
and memories of a mindfull of left over change

[Semantics]

To Eva Descending the Stair

Clocks cry: stillness is a lie, my dear;
The wheels revolve, the universe keeps running.
(Proud you halt upon the spiral stair.)

The asteroids turn traitor in the air,
And planets plot with old elliptic cunning;
Clocks cry: stillness is a lie, my dear.

Red the unraveled rose sings in your hair:
Blood springs eternal if the heart be burning.
(Proud you halt upon the spiral stair.)

Cryptic stars wind up the atmosphere,
In solar schemes the titled suns go turning;
Clocks cry: stillness is a lie, my dear.

Loud the immortal nightingales declare:
Love flames forever if the flesh be yearning.
(Proud you halt upon the spiral stair.)

Circling zodiac compels the year.
Intolerant beauty never will be learning.
Clocks cry: stillness is a lie, my dear.
(Proud you halt upon the spiral stair.)

Sylvia Plath

[evolveme]

Originally Posted by atomiczombie

Wow, this is so sensual and erotic, with a touch of pain mixed in. Very powerful!

I know. I hope you'll fall in love with her like I have.

Her poems still have the power to curl my toes and I have read them so many times.

[atomiczombie]

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart


Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial. - But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...

Rainer Maria Rilke

[Semantics]

I will love you.
And you will have no say in the matter.
You will be sitting reading. I will step through the wall and take you by the ears.
Gold Latin will come out of your mouth.
Years will pass.
We will be old.
I will have loved you, against my nature,
no other being worthy,
thrown as I am on my own powers,
alone there.
And as we sit together reading you will say
“Did you really love me?”
And I will be terrified.


By Stan Rice

[Semantics]

Bend down, bend down. Excess is the only ease,
so bend. The sun is in the tree.
Put your mouth on mine. Bend down
beam & slash, for Dread is dreamed-up-scenes
of what comes after death. Is being
fled from what bends down in pain.
The elbow bends in the brain, lifts the cup.
The worst is yet to dream you up,
so bend down the intrigue
you dreamed. Flee the hayneedle in the brain's
tree.
Excess allures by leaps. Stars burn clean. Oriole bitches and gleams. Dread is the fear of being
less
forever. So bend. Bend down and kiss
what you see.


By Stan Rice

[Rook]

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

[FeminineAllure]

Cien Sonetos de Amor - XVII
Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as one loves the salt-rose, or topaz,
or carnations, those darts of crimson struck from the fire.
I love you as certain things are loved: darkly
and in secret, between dusk and the soul.

I love you - like a plant that does not bloom
but bears within itself, concealed, the light of flowers.
Because of your love, a fierce essence,
arisen from the earth, is alive within my flesh.

I love you - without knowing how, when, where;
I love you simply, without question, without pride.
I love you thus because I know no other way of loving
except this, where there is neither You nor I--

so intimate that your hand laid upon my chest is my own,
so intimate that when I dream it is your eyes that close.

[Tcountry]

I know it may not be the best time
To reveal my heart and cross that line
But I am in love with you
And see in your eyes, you feel it too.
I can't tell you I'll never hurt you
But can promise I never mean to.
I can't guarantee forever and a day
But I'll do everything I can to make it that way.
No matter where you are or what your doing
If you miss me, all you have to do is make the phone ring
I'll answer your call and calm your fears
And offer to hold you in my arms for the rest of our years.
The more "you" you are, the more I become the true "me"
As we spend time together and share that special energy.
Any situation that arises, we can weather
for all rules fade away once we just exist together.
We have the freedom to love, plan, and dream
Without worry of what it all might mean.
I really do wish to know you forever
As my friend, counterpart, and lover.
I hope as you work on becoming the person you want to be
You don't forget about the little things in your time with me.

[kittygrrl]

Rapewagon
________________________________________
You decided to tell me,
in a '93 Ford wagon, blue,
after two years together,
two, now we're through.

You decided to tell me,
going 70, on the interstate,
flying a million-miles faster,
than minds anticipate...
after two years together,
it's you who escaped.

fuck you,
I love you

You decided to tell me,
inside your car,
trapped,
while you rape me...
might as well rape me...
I wish you would rape me...
you brought me this far.

[MysticOceansFL]

The Eye of the Soul

I judge you not by what you wear,
Whether your garment is of rag or riches,
Or your skin is of a color white or black,
Whether you wear some gold or trinkets,
Or decorate yourself with stones and diamonds,
I see you with the eye of Soul.

I know you, for who you are inside of you,
Not for your smiles, for smiles could be false,
Not for your looks, for looks could deceive,
Not for your appearance, for that won’t last,
And not for your clothes, for that only covers.
I see you with the eye of Soul.

I am a friend to that you inside of you,
Indifferent to your dose of limitations,
Forgiving to your human flaws of character
Unyielding to rumors and gossips about you
For the eye within sees even more,
I see you with the eye of Soul.

By Oliver O. Mbamara

[MysticOceansFL]

"Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
A poet's face asleep in this grey morn.
Now in the midst of the old world forlorn
A mystic child is set in these still hours.
I keep this time, even before the flowers,
Sacred to all the young and the unborn."

[ProfPacker]

(Sonnet 18) by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[ProfPacker]

"To My Daughter with Love on the Important things in life"


A mother tries to provide her daughter with insight
into the important things in life
in order to make her life
as happy and fulfilling as possible.

A mother tries to teach her daughter
to be good, always helpful to other people
to be fair, always treating others equally
to have a positive attitude at all times
to always make things right when they are wrong
to know herself well
to know what her talents are
to set goals for herself
to not be afraid of working too hard to reach her goals.

A mother tries to teach her daughter
to have many interests to pursue
to laugh and have fun every day
to appreciate the beauty of nature
to enter into friendships with good people
to honor their friendships and always be a good friend
and to particularly respect and love our elder members
to use her intelligence all times
to listen to her emotions
to adhere to her values

A mother tries to teach her daughter
to not be afraid to stick to her beliefs
to not follow the majority when the majority is wrong
to carefully plan a life for herself
to vigorously follow her chosen path
to enter into a relationship with someone worthy of herself
to love this person unconditionally with her body and mind
to share all that she has learned in her life with this person

If I have provided you with an insight
into most of these things
then I have succeeded as a mother
in what I hoped to accomplish in raising you
if many of these slipped by
while we were all so busy
I have a feeling you know them anyway
One thing I am sure of though,
I have taught you to be proud of the fact
that you are a woman equal to all men and
that I have loved you every second of your life
I have supported you at all times
as a mother, as a person, and as a friend
I will always continue to Cherish and love
everything about you
my beautiful daughter.

Author: Susan Polis Schutz

[ProfPacker]

Poem: "Morning Swim," by Maxine Kumin from Selected Poems 1960-1990 (Norton).
Morning Swim
Into my empty head there come
a cotton beach, a dock wherefrom
I set out, oily and nude
through mist, in chilly solitude.
There was no line, no roof or floor
to tell the water from the air.
Night fog thick as terry cloth
closed me in its fuzzy growth.
I hung my bathrobe on two pegs.
I took the lake between my legs.
Invaded and invader, I
went overhand on that flat sky.
Fish twitched beneath me, quick and tame.
In their green zone they sang my name
and in the rhythm of the swim
I hummed a two-four-time slow hymn.
I hummed "Abide With Me." The beat
rose in the fine thrash of my feet,
rose in the bubbles I put out
slantwise, trailing through my mouth.
My bones drank water; water fell
through all my doors. I was the well
that fed the lake that met my sea
in which I sang "Abide With Me."