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Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 199, 200, 201  Next
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buddy

buddy Avatar

Location: Denver
Gender: Male


Posted: Mar 20, 2020 - 8:28am

He Dog

I'm a very old dog,
much older than most dogs.
I can't give out my wisdom
because I bark loudly and virtually
no one understands this barking except
a few other dogs of my particular species.
I don't bark at cars. They're beneath contempt.
I bark at the rising sun when it rises
red out of a forest fire.
I bark at thunder out of pure envy,
the mighty noise this sky dog makes.
I growl at myself when I sleep too much
and don't run to the far field in the morning
where i saw the bear bigger than me and ran home.
I don't bark at the night. I love its black music.
I sleep under the porch, inside during winter.
Once I had a girlfriend for the day.
I have puppies but I don't know where.

~ Jim Harrison
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Mar 20, 2020 - 8:02am

Crow's Theology

Crow realized God loved him-
Otherwise, he would have dropped dead.
So that was proved.
Crow reclined, marvelling, on his heart-beat.

And he realized that God spoke Crow-
Just existing was His revelation.

But what Loved the stones and spoke stone?
They seemed to exist too.
And what spoke that strange silence
After his clamour of caws faded?

And what loved the shot-pellets
That dribbled from those strung-up mummifying crows?
What spoke the silence of lead?

Crow realized there were two Gods-

One of them much bigger than the other
Loving his enemies
And having all the weapons.

Ted Hughes
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Mar 20, 2020 - 7:55am


Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Oroville, Ca
Gender: Male


Posted: Mar 16, 2020 - 5:36pm

The Drinker of Sorrows

The drinker of all my sorrows
Is not a healer of horses
Neither manshape nor beastly
An eater of flesh
With nimble fingers

And there are times
When it quietly helps the dying
But the dying can't fly
Their inchwings pulse
Until their legs are still

The listener to all my quiets
Is not a seeker of silence
But silence itself
It listens to my blood
Waiting and tasting

A king to the insects
A sawer of limbs
With dark dull saws
A collector of pain
The drinker of all my sorrows

- Rob Diebold


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Mar 13, 2020 - 6:02am

Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
 
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
 
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
 
–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Feb 10, 2020 - 6:51am

Sake
by Elizabeth Spires

A squat bottle,
two cups, and us
toasting an anniversary
although we know
the wind may blow
away these walls
of paper, wood, and rock;
and if they fall, we'll rise
and quickly improvise
a journey down time's
cold silvery musical stream,
slipping on dripping
stepping-stones, drenched
to the bone until,
shades of our former selves,
we give up the ghost,
our ghastly smiles belying
the cold finality of lying
through centuries side
by side, cheated by time.
What is a marriage?
A promise, a vow never
to forsake the other,
and love a little realm
of light and shadow.
But here, while the sake's
warm. Drink again.
For your sake. Mine.

miamizsun

miamizsun Avatar

Location: (3261.3 Miles SE of RP)
Gender: Male


Posted: Feb 6, 2020 - 4:42am

i thought that {#Arrowd} was seriously thoughtful (it's quite possible that i'm floating in metaphorical ether and insulated from what is)
miamizsun

miamizsun Avatar

Location: (3261.3 Miles SE of RP)
Gender: Male


Posted: Feb 5, 2020 - 4:22am

david whyte poetry
miamizsun

miamizsun Avatar

Location: (3261.3 Miles SE of RP)
Gender: Male


Posted: Feb 5, 2020 - 4:16am

if you're into poetry this should be a real treat

enjoy! you can get the entire conversation by subscribing

strapped? all requests for free subs are granted


ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Jan 20, 2020 - 7:41pm

 Antigone wrote:
Think of Others

while preparing your breakfast,
think of others
don’t forget the aliment of the doves
and while you are going to war,
think of others
don’t forget those seeking peace
and as you pay your water bill,
think of others
those who drink the clouds
and while you are returning home,
your home,
think of others
don’t forget the people of the tents
and as you sleep and count the stars,
think of others
those who don’t have a space to sleep
and as you liberate yourself with metaphors,
think of others
those who have lost their rights to speak
and while you are thinking of others far away,
think of yourself
and say: I wish I was a candle in the dark

~ Mahmoud Darwish

 
*bump*
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Jan 20, 2020 - 7:16pm

 Antigone wrote:
Clapp's Pond
by Mary Oliver
...
How sometimes everything
closes up, a painted fan, landscapes and moments
flowing together until the sense of distance - - -
say, between Clapp's Pond and me - - -
vanishes, edges slide together
like the feathers of a wing, everything
touches everything.
...
*

from the pond
three miles away.

 
Thank you, Mary Oliver.
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Jan 20, 2020 - 6:22pm

Clapp's Pond
by Mary Oliver

Three miles through the woods
Clapp's Pond sprawls stone gray
among oaks and pines,
the late winter fields

where a pheasant blazes up
lifting his yellow legs
under bronze feathers, opening
bronze wings;

and one doe, dimpling the ground as she touches
its dampness sharply, flares
out of the brush and gallops away.

*

By evening: rain.
It pours down from the black clouds,
lashes over the roof. The last
acorns spray over the porch; I toss
one, then two more
logs on the fire.

*

How sometimes everything
closes up, a painted fan, landscapes and moments
flowing together until the sense of distance - - -
say, between Clapp's Pond and me - - -
vanishes, edges slide together
like the feathers of a wing, everything
touches everything.

*

Later, lying half-asleep under
the blankets, I watch
while the doe, glittering with rain, steps
under the wet slabs of the pines, stretches
her long neck down to drink

*

from the pond
three miles away.

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Jan 1, 2020 - 1:50pm

Long, woodland vistas.
The creek burbling beside us,
The dog and I walk.

(alternate last line: Happy New Year, all!)
Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Oroville, Ca
Gender: Male


Posted: Dec 26, 2019 - 3:30pm



 Antigone wrote:
 
This is, I think, what holiness is:

the natural world, where every moment is full
of the passion to keep moving.

Inside every mind there’s a hermit’s cave full of light,
full of snow, full of concentration.

I’ve knelt there, and so have you,
hanging on to what you love,

to what is lovely.

~ Mary Oliver, At the Lake
 


Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Dec 26, 2019 - 2:32pm

 
This is, I think, what holiness is:

the natural world, where every moment is full
of the passion to keep moving.

Inside every mind there’s a hermit’s cave full of light,
full of snow, full of concentration.

I’ve knelt there, and so have you,
hanging on to what you love,

to what is lovely.

~ Mary Oliver, At the Lake
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Dec 25, 2019 - 8:43am

The Christmas Story
by Robin Richstone

We know by heart these stories
of a cold world, unwelcoming inn,
the murderous tyrant,
Mary on a donkey, escape,
how cruel, how long ago, how far
from what we mean to sing,
O Come, O Come,
to the weary, the terrified,
Mary's heart beating fast,
her grip on the baby,
the strains of it fill the shops,
the streets, flow down rivers,
cross seas, cross borders,
the refugee mother kneels
to change her infant in
an open field, the shepherds gone,
the angels quiet,
her safety now
completely up to us.

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Dec 4, 2019 - 4:59pm

Orion lies on
the eastern horizon. It
means winter is here.
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Dec 4, 2019 - 2:55pm

Windy walk at dusk,
Rustling is cause for concern.
Yet Christmas lights shine.
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Dec 2, 2019 - 11:48am

On My Own (excerpt)

...

The teachers were soft-spoken women
smelling like washed babies and the students
fierce as lost dogs, but they all hushed
in wonder when I named the 400 angels
of death, the planets sighted and unsighted,
the moment at which creation would turn
to burned feathers and blow every which way
in the winds of shock. I sat down
and the room grew quiet and warm. My eyes
asked me to close them. I did, and so
I discovered the beauty of sleep and that
to get ahead I need only say I was there,
and everything would open as the darkness
in my silent head opened onto seascapes
at the other end of the world, waves
breaking into mountains of froth, the sand
running back to become salt savor
of the infinite. Mrs. Tarbox woke me
for lunch—a tiny container of milk
and chocolate cookies in the shape of Michigan.

Of course I went home at 3:30, with
the bells ringing behind me and four stars
in my notebook and drinking companions
on each arm. If you had been there
in your yellow harness and bright hat
directing traffic you would never
have noticed me—my clothes shabby
and my eyes bright—; to you I'd have been
just an ordinary kid. Sure, now you
know, it's obvious, what with the light
of the Lord streaming through the nine
windows of my soul and the music of rain
following in my wake and the ordinary air
on fire every blessed day I waken the world.

PHILIP LEVINE

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Dec 1, 2019 - 6:47am

December 1st
by Billy Collins

Today is my mother's birthday,
but she's not here to celebrate
by opening a flowery card
or looking calmly out a window.

If my mother were alive,
she'd be 114 years old,
and I am guessing neither of us
would be enjoying her birthday very much.

Mother, I would love to see you again
to take you shopping or to sit
in your sunny apartment with a pot of tea,
but it wouldn't be the same at 114.

And I'm no prize either,
almost 20 years older than the last time
you saw me sitting by your deathbed.
Some days, I look worse than yesterday's oatmeal.

Happy Birthday, anyway. Happy Birthday to you.
Here I am in a wallpapered room
raising a glass of birthday whiskey
and picturing your face, the brooch on your collar.

It must have been frigid that morning
in the hour just before dawn
on your first December 1st
at the family farm a hundred miles north of Toronto.

I imagine they had you wrapped up tight,
and there was your tiny pink face
sticking out of the bunting,
and all those McIsaacs getting used to saying your name.

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