Your Favorite Poems

[mustangjeano]

Why do I like horses. I think I must be mad.
My Mother wasn't horsey--and neither was my Dad.

But the madness hit me early- and it hit me like a curse.
And I've never gotten better. In fact I've gotten worse.

I hardly read a paper- but I know whose sold their horse.
And I wouldn't watch the news-Unless Mr. Ed was on- of course.

One eye's always on the heavens-But my washing waves in vain
As I rush to get the horses in-in case it's gonna rain.

I spend up every cent I've got - on horsey stuff for sure
I buy saddles, bridles, fancy boots- and the I buy some more

I can't sew a button- I don't even try
But I can back a truck and trailer- in the twinkling of an eye

It's jeans and boots that I live in night and day
And that smell of sweaty horses just doesn't wash away

But late at night when all is still- and I've gone to give them hay
I touch their velvet softness and my worries float away

They give a gentle nicker and they nuzzle thru my hair
And I know it's where my heart is-more here than anywhere

author unknown

[SoNotHer]

May the Poe-toaster rise again, and may the Ravens win, win, win.

Alone
By Edgar Allan Poe

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 lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

[Hollylane]

I was going to thank the Edgar Allen Poe portion of that post, but I couldn't separate it from the "Ravens" portion...I'm just sayin'...

[SoNotHer]

Poem In Which Words Have Been Left Out
by Charles Jensen

—The "Miranda Rights," established 1966


You have the right to remain
anything you can and will be.

An attorney you cannot afford
will be provided to you.

You have silent will.
You can be against law.
You cannot afford one.

You remain silent. Anything you say
will be provided to you.

The right can and will be
against you. The right provided you.

Have anything you say be
right. Anything you say can be right.

Say you have the right attorney.
The right remain silent.

Be held. Court the one. Be provided.
You cannot be you.

[adorable]

DUST OF SNOW

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued. ~Robert Frost

[Truly Scrumptious]

Loving you is like living
in the war years.
I do think of Bogart & Bergman
not clear who’s who
but still singin’ a long smoky
mood into the piano bar
drinks straight up
the last bottle in the house
while bombs split
outside, a broken world.

A world war going on
but you and I still insisting
in each our own heads
still thinking how
if I could only make some contact
with that woman across the keyboard
we size each other up
yes …

Loving you has this kind of desperation
to it, like do or die, I
having eyed you from the first
time you made the decision to move
from your stool
to live dangerously.

All on the hunch
that in our exchange of photos
of old girlfriends, names
of cities and memories back in the states
the fronts we’ve manned
out here on the continent
all this on the hunch

that this time there’ll be
no need for resistance.

Loving in the war years
calls for this kind of risking
without a home to call our own
I’ve got to take you as you come
to me, each time like a stranger
all over again. Not knowing
what deaths you saw today

I’ve got to take you
as you come, battle bruised
refusing our enemy, fear

We’re all we’ve got. You and I

maintaining
this war time morality
where being queer
and female is as rude
as we can get.

~ Cherrie Moraga

[smouldering]

‎"Before I understood how to open with you, I tried giving you orgasms so I knew I was a good lover.

But now, all I want is your surrender.

I want your heart's pleasure to ripple through your open body and saturate my life with your love.
...
Your body's openness to love's flow draws me into you, and through your heart's surrender I am opened to the love that lives as the universe.

Whether you have an orgasm or not while we make love, your body's trust and devotional openness is my secret doorway to love's deepest bliss."

-David Deida