Susan's Place Transgender Resources

Just to share with you a few of my favorite poems. 

Something Like This
You Had To Know

Sexy & sweet
Sassy but soft
I am just me
like a butterfly on a tree
Im tall and smart
Honest but Real
Could this be true

Your great and hunky
a smile that melts me
A touch that shivers me
Im in heaven once again

A poet that i am
I can see things coming
A moment in time
You hold my hand
A day that came
i messaged you here
to say hello
& hope you write back

A girl thats different from the rest
A girl thats always second best
I saw you here smile so big
warm eyes i can look in to for days
A hunky man id like to know
But for who i am i'll never know

Hope you have a fun old time
as i sit way behind

You think im odd, a little different.
But just know i will be alright

Something Like This
You Had To Know

By Lana Poulson

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My Journey

Its tuff to be a girl like me

A road that was so hard and difficult being young

Not knowing if i was in the right spot

But knowing i was meant to go

Teen years were interesting started liking boys but dated girls

Grade 9 hit and girls were my friends

Guys i wanted to date but were so far out of reach

Why is my journey so far to hold

What's wrong with me?

Living a lie most my teen years liking the wrong kind of boys

My sexuality messing my head up

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME I YELLED

A girl trapped inside looking for a way out

Where are the boys that like girls like me

Why is this so hard

This journey i wish would end sometimes

&

Tried to make it kind of.

Early 20's became

Gender and confusion making me go silly

Doctors and pills pulling me one way and my mind pulling the next

She's trying to fight her way out

the year came

Idea of the hormones come into place

Its now or never wake the hell up

Make your mind up before you go nuts

She arrived in 1996 like a small baby rose

coming out of the moist wet ground

Its the Journey of life

Its now 2006 What a long way iv come.

Who knew family would fully accept me

My dad finally came around,

My brother has a sister and that's in his eyes,

My mother has a daughter

And i am almost complete

What's missing is the rest of my body to fill me up

A journey that's so hard a journey that's been so tuff but payback will be here

And you will see

This Journey is all worth it and that means the most to me

My Journey

By Lana Poulson

Cute...

Buffy

;D

TONIGHT

Tonight I am quite awake;
And as any other night I can't sleep.
My random thoughts run through the cold breeze
Like gazelles being chased by the most dangerous beast
That beast of fear of what January will bring
And the new life that this will mean.

As melancholy sinks in deep
kind words are needed indeed
To comfort my mind and heart
of the uncertainty that is breaking me apart

I wish January were now here
To finish what nature left undone
And to feel like those gazelles running
But without the dangerous beast near.

By Tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Tink,

     The time will be here before you know it. That is very good by the way ;) As are the others, but you wrote this one.
                                            Marco

Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night"



Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.



Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.



Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


tinkerbell :'(

This is for you Tinker, waiting for January. You live in the bay area. You'll understand this.

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on September 02, 2006, 01:47:40 AM
This is for you Tinker, waiting for January. You live in the bay area. You'll understand this.

Winter's green

The warm days turn cool
the nights draw long
fall yields way to winter.

The leaves now lay down;
green is gone,
Yet not for long.

Winter rains bring
moisture and cool air.
Moss grows on massive
oak trunks there.

Open fields spawn
bright virgin grass
where cattle run
and deliver their young.

On the flourescent green
of winter.

Copyright 2006 Cindi Jones

Of course I do my friend....thank you!  you know Cindi, if everyone wants to know what a real friend is, they just have to read you or know you... ;)


tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: September 02, 2006, 01:50:53 AM

---

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

By Robert Frost

====================================================================================================================

Two roads diverged in a wood and I
I took the one less traveled by
and that has made all the difference.

From The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Yes, my dear, one of your favorite ones ;), here it is!

The Road not Taken
Robert Frost


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference.

Yes, it is my all time favorite.  I performed it once in a choral work too.  It's one of those things that I know all the words to.  It floats from my memory several times a week. 

Cindi

and of course, how could I forget your favorite one?  that's what friends are for::




Robert Frost
Poetry


The Star-Splitter

You know Orion always comes up sideways.
Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains,
And rising on his hands, he looks in on me
Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something
I should have done by daylight, and indeed,
After the ground is frozen, I should have done
Before it froze, and a gust flings a handful
Of waste leaves at my smoky lantern chimney
To make fun of my way of doing things,
Or else fun of Orion's having caught me.
Has a man, I should like to ask, no rights
These forces are obliged to pay respect to?"
So Brad McLaughlin mingled reckless talk
Of heavenly stars with hugger-mugger farming,
Till having failed at hugger-mugger farming,
He burned his house down for the fire insurance
And spent the proceeds on a telescope
To satisfy a life-long curiosity
About our place among the infinities.

"What do you want with one of those blame things?"
I asked him well beforehand. "Don't you get one!"
"Don't call it blamed; there isn't anything
More blameless in the sense of being less
A weapon in our human fight," he said.
"I'll have one if I sell my farm to buy it."
There where he moved the rocks to plow the ground
And plowed between the rocks he couldn't move,
Few farms changed hands; so rather than spend years
Trying to sell his farm and then not selling,
He burned his house down for the fire insurance
And bought the telescope with what it came to.
He had been heard to say by several:
"The best thing that we're put here for's to see;
The strongest thing that's given us to see with's
A telescope. Someone in every town
Seems to me owes it to the town to keep one.
In Littleton it may as well be me."
After such loose talk it was no surprise
When he did what he did and burned his house down.
Mean laughter went about the town that day
To let him know we weren't the least imposed on,
And he could wait--we'd see to him to-morrow.
But the first thing next morning we reflected
If one by one we counted people out
For the least sin, it wouldn't take us long
To get so we had no one left to live with.
For to be social is to be forgiving.
Our thief, the one who does our stealing from us,
We don't cut off from coming to church suppers,
But what we miss we go to him and ask for.
He promptly gives it back, that is if still
Uneaten, unworn out, or undisposed of.
It wouldn't do to be too hard on Brad
About his telescope. Beyond the age
Of being given one's gift for Christmas,
He had to take the best way he knew how
To find himself in one. Well, all we said was
He took a strange thing to be roguish over.
Some sympathy was wasted on the house,
A good old-timer dating back along;
But a house isn't sentient; the house
Didn't feel anything. And if it did,
Why not regard it as a sacrifice,
And an old-fashioned sacrifice by fire,
Instead of a new-fashioned one at auction?

Out of a house and so out of a farm
At one stroke (of a match), Brad had to turn
To earn a living on the Concord railroad,
As under-ticket-agent at a station
Where his job, when he wasn't selling tickets,
Was setting out up track and down, not plants
As on a farm, but planets, evening stars
That varied in their hue from red to green.

He got a good glass for six hundred dollars.
His new job gave him leisure for star-gazing.
Often he bid me come and have a look
Up the brass barrel, velvet black inside,
At a star quaking in the other end.
I recollect a night of broken clouds
And underfoot snow melted down to ice,
And melting further in the wind to mud.
Bradford and I had out the telescope.
We spread our two legs as it spread its three,
Pointed our thoughts the way we pointed it,
And standing at our leisure till the day broke,
Said some of the best things we ever said.
That telescope was christened the Star-splitter,
Because it didn't do a thing but split
A star in two or three the way you split
A globule of quicksilver in your hand
With one stroke of your finger in the middle.
It's a star-splitter if there ever was one
And ought to do some good if splitting stars
'Sa thing to be compared with splitting wood.

We've looked and looked, but after all where are we?
Do we know any better where we are,
And how it stands between the night to-night
And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
How different from the way it ever stood?

On a tree Fallen Across the Road

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood
Throws down in front of us not to bar
Our passage to our journey's end for good
But just to ask us who we think we are

Insisting always on our own way so,
She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,
And make us get down in a foot of snow
Debating what to do without an ax.

And yet she knows obstruction is in vain
We will not be put off the final goal
We have it hidden in us to attain,
Not though we have to seize earth by the pole.

And, tired of aimless circling in one place,
Steer straight off after something into space.

By Robert Frost

Oh Cindi, that's beautiful, Okay, you know me, I am going to start with the waterworks... :'(


tinkerbell :icon_chick:

I've always liked that one too.  Have you ever read the one he wrote about birch trees?  Look it up.  It's a wonderful read.

Cindi

Yes I have....check out this link: :)

Robert Frost (http://www.msu.edu/~lewisbr4/frost.htm)

tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Oh that's cheating!  I had to go to my book!  I bought a book of his complete works several years ago.  Expensive it was!  Forty bucks!  But worth every penny.  I do enjoy holding the page and wondering of the author's hand as he wrote it.

Cindi

My Perfect World
by Mary Elizabeth Blessing

Early in the morning
     before anyone rises
My mind pushes my body from
     the warmth of my bed
To wander

Together we go back
     hand in hand
To ponder the thought that ignited the feeling
More than once I anaylize
Was it love?
Is it still?
Another time, another place
I held your hand and kissed your lips
So short, the amount of time we stole
     The sun rises to catch my eye
          Warming my face
Bringing me back to the man
     That holds my hand, rubs my back
           and fathered my children
Love and wanderlust
Past and present
     Clashing and falling together to form
My perfect world.
         
Posted on: September 02, 2006, 09:30:29 PM

---

The Back of the Bus
  By Renee Reyes


For "passing" first grade, they made him return

How's that for success and some luck?

Thus, early to bed – a peck on his head

  He waited outside for the truck.



Climbing on board, grabbing a seat

Eyes chasing each minor fuss,

Spying in verso – a dark skinned young lady

–        Alone, in the back of the bus.

 

A child asked his mother – what person is this - the same, yet so different from me?

Those eyes shined like fire, and shared for her sire - exactly as I will tell thee:



"The back of the bus – is really the front

A place where the angels do tend,

The gateway to heaven - it opens forever

–        When the girl in the back is your friend."

 

A football team captain, class president was he

Not bad - for a boy from the back,

No gender to hinder – his race made him tender

This future looked sharp as a tack.

 

Fast-forward a score - add a few years

Now comes dishonor and shock,

For under all that - a transsexual woman

–        Complete with her closets and frock.



What might Lincoln do – if he saw his son now

Would he offer a pillow as rack?

Never mind those who died - to crush these deep scars

This world – just said, "please use the back".

 

He'd been there before, he knew this terrain

But somehow it felt extra low,

You know the difference – he understood too...

–        He'd never been forced there to go.

 

He grasped for support – none he could find

A cancer had taken his tree,

Cold hearted in anger, he cried to the heavens

"No angels avail there for me?"



A head bowed in sorrow – a heart filled with shame

Gravity tugging at knees,

From deep in his soul, he tasted that spirit

–        And suddenly there was a "she".

 

He cried as she held him, dabbing mascara

Clearing those eyes filled with foam,

She smiled at her baby – and said only these words

–        "I knew you could find your way home".

   

This poem, it was started – one year ago

The words somehow lost in the midst,

It took SCC – and one thousand good sisters

For me to discover its gist.

 

It's really quite simple, His son made it clear

A camel and eye to be free,

Today he might mention, the back of the bus

– As one way to walk with Thee.

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on September 02, 2006, 10:27:49 PM

Little Mother

She longs to mother
to have and to hold
a small life in her hands.

To teach a young son
a daughter to mold
in her way as she stands.

Cruel nature ignores her desire   
Entropic events conspire     
Someone else bears a child,
yes another beguiled
as she abides,
hopes,
and ponders.

Her image lays there
in my lap and it bares
witness to her longing.

She holds dear a feline friend.
She prays for God to mend
her tender aching heart.

Her small frame bears
strong arms to care
a small life she'll share
to life's wonders.

The child so wanton
will not be forgotten
her heart is well known
by the spirit.

Copyright 2006 Cindi Jones

:'( okay the waterworks have started :).  Thank you Cindi.  I admire your wisdom!  and I am proud you are my friend!


Posted on: September 03, 2006, 11:39:21 PM

---

The Journey



Let me tell you of my journey in life,
of places I have seen and people I have met!
Of my sorrows and of my happiness.
Of my lessons I have learned,
I am but one life in this vast world.
Hoping to make a mark on it.
Let me help you through your journey,
Maybe we can travel together?
Each person that I meet,
Touches my life and changes it!
Little by little I change.
Hoping it is for the best.
Oh, where would I be having not met you!
I would not know so many joys in life.
My life would be not so fulfilled.
Each person we meet we touch,
And take part of them with us.
It makes us who we are today.


By Tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Yes, indeed it does Tinkerbell.
I am so happy I have met you. It is a wonderful poem.

Cindi

WHO IS MOTHER?


Mother is half of the Father/Mother team, the one who gave birth to you as a child. When she first held you in her arms, she fell madly in love with you! She is the one that changed your diaper, gave you your bottle, bathed and dressed you. She is the one who tended to you when you were sick, wishes she could have bore your pain, but unable to even share it with you. There is none like a Mother.

If you have children, then you know what it's like to be a Mother. Often, it's a tough job, with unruly children, and many heartaches before they are grown. Sometimes a Mother is lucky that she has well-disciplined children, but only because she has done her best in order for them to be well-adjusted teenagers and later adults. Mostly, Mother sits and worries that she hasn't done her best with her children, especially if they don't turn out as she thought they should, with all the training she had given them.

Mother is a human being, capable of making mistakes. She is not perfect, just as none of us are perfect. But she is the one that we picture as being perfect during our childhood. As we become older, we realize that Mothers are capable of right and wrong ways of doing things, missing the mark, just as much as the next person. But she is still Mother. The thing that sets her apart is her everlasting love for her children and her intent that they lead normal, well-adjusted lives.

Not until we become adults, do we really begin to appreciate WHO Mother really is. She has nurtured you through your childhood, put up with your sassy ways and times of being lazy during your teenage years, and cried through your becoming an adult. But Mother was always there to encourage you when you made a mistake, although sometimes it's hard not to show disappointment {I am sure I've done that}.

As we grow older and have our own children, we realize that Mother was a very strong person, and we begin to wonder can we ever fit into her shoes. No, we wear our 'own shoes'........we can never do things the same as our Mother, although she has given us the pattern from which to build. IF we have a Godly Mother {I did!}, then we can bring up our children in the ways of God, so that when they grow older we have the assurance that some day they will live for God. After all, Proverbs 22:6 says "Train up a child in the ways he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Mothers are special. Is your Mother living today? If so, try to make this Mother's Day the most wonderful day of her life! Show her you care if only by telling her you love her. Take her out to eat, take her flowers, but show up on Mother's Day, if possible. You will never know how much this helps Mother to realize her family still cares. Sometimes we get busy doing the usual things in life, and lose sight of the most important aspects - loving our family. And Mother happens to be where that 'family' began. Without Mother, there would never have been a family. You might also tell Daddy that you are so happy that he chose Mother to be his wife. Make his eyes light up as well!!

M - Messenger, relaying God's Word

O - Outpouring of genuine Love

T - Trusts in God

H - Heart set on things above

E - Earthly saint

R - Rescuer of the Wayward



By Barbara Sanders


I want to be all that, tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: September 04, 2006, 02:56:23 AM

---

Here's one of my all time favorite poems.  I'm a big fan of structured poetry.

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
                                       Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

"My Wife"           

My wife is having a hard time
She has put up with way too much
I never told her I cross dressed
I thought I was cured by then
A couple of years after we married
My need to cross dress came back
It was hid from her and others
Then one night I told her about it
I told her I wanted to wear night gowns
Woman's panties I wanted too
Cheeper was the reason I gave her
Nighties and panties were cool
Why can't a guy have nighties
Girls wear jeans and tuxes too
The double standard is wrong
For men and women alike
So to my wife I write this poem
To say I am sorry I decieved
When you file the divorce papers
All this grief will be over for you
My stuff I will remove it soon
I hope you won't be hurt
May we be friends when it';s over
A girl friend I want to be
If only you will see me
As Cheryl Lynne that's who

  By Cheryl Lynne

Posted on: September 08, 2006, 07:53:52 PM

---

Untitled

The Mountain, Leaf, & Cloud                 
Some where ,there is a rainbow.
There is not a single duplicate mountain
Not a double in leafs any where
All clouds are different
So why be like anyone else
We are all different
Are looks, voices, beliefs that important
Do we need to match each other
The differences in ourselves is normal
OH how I dislike the word normal now
Normal is only a word
What is normal really
It is just a word used to make one fit in the box
The box that says female or male
Why even mark one box or any box
Why label a bathroom as female or male
Let us just say bathroom
If that is done then how could anyone object
To have a security guard or police go in the bathroom with you
That is never apporiate in my opinion
Even if the other person is TG
A TG has to use it some time
My writings are never repeated in an other
Well maybe once in a while
So be different and rejoice in being you
Love yourself and others


  By Cheryl Lynne



Posted on: September 08, 2006, 07:55:32 PM

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Tinkerbell, I love poetry - it truely is the greatest Muse.  Music is wonderful too but different, and I think requires an extra/different mental step or two.  With good poetry there are the images and the rhythm.  There is a quality to Robert Frosts poems.  There is a contemporary Australian poet who evokes similar feelings in me.
His name is Peter Kocan - and I believe I may even have been at University with him, is truely a pity we never met :(
What do you think of this poem.  Up there with Robert Frost you reckon?  :)

DYLAN & CAITLAN

The poignant photograph is one,
Of them reclining in the sun--
Their intimacy showing through,
Unposed, unglamorous, but true.

Yet with a tension in it all,
As if they had agreed to call
This little truce in passion's war
Beside the heron-priested shore.

Forever, as the moments pass,
Their shadows rest upon the grass.
These two remain forever caught
In pensive attitudes of thought.

And just before the camera's blink
She might've said "How strange to think
Our pictured selves will never know
What happens when we rise and go".

"They'll seem to know", he might've said,
"For everything that lies ahead
Will cast its retrospective ray
Upon these phantoms of today",

--Bereft of colour, motion, sound,
Their world is burgeoning around,
The teeming year of Fifty-Three
Whose end he woulden't live to see.

I really like his structure.  It sounds like somebody contemplating a photogragh about himself and somebody that he was friends with and the friend died soon afterwards.  Kind of sad.

Melissa

It is a sad sort of poem Melissa, actually it made me think he was contemplating a picture of his parents, back in simpler times.  His poems all have this feeling to them.
Here is another one (hope you dont mind Tinkerbell - I am not hijacking your thread, to me its dedicated to beautiful poems :)   )

READING HISTORY
We know what they will suffer and will do.
We have the final outcomes neatly penned.
And we can watch it all proceeding to
The very thing that happened at the end.

For us the deep significances cling
To names and dates and places in advance.
We know what each tomorrow had to bring
Out of the deep-laid plan or fluke of chance.

We fathom where the secret passage lies
Through centuries of anarchy and dark.
And long before the arrow ever flies
We know that it will hurtle to its mark.

We can predict in detail all the rest
That follows on from someone being born,
That even as he suckles at the breast
The crown is polished or the dagger drawn.

We note the sign and see the portent clear,
Can tell the solid outline in the vague,
Can number for a certainty what year
Will come the revolution or the Plague.

But how that easy wisdom separates
The reader from the heartbeat of the past,
From all the people who had thought their fates
Were undecided till the very last.

And the same gulf is opening ahead
When the armchair historian will know
Each twist and turning of the paths we tread,
Although we grope and stumble as we go.

-----------------------------------------------------------
I have a list of favourite poets, and Peter Kocan is up there :)  I cannot comprehend how someone could create somthing like this - I greatly envy their genius
another of a completely different style and approach is Rudyard Kipling.
I have part of his poem "Frontier Arithmetic" in my signature - it has been weighing on me greatly, it keeps reoccurring.  Its my son, the amazing wonderful soldier.  As this poem chillingly makes the point "The odds are with the lesser man"   :(

Rana

Yeah, I tend to be very particular in the poems that I like because I have difficulty reading a lot of poetry.  I find it much easier to write and tend to write it in the style of what I like to read.  So far on Susans, I've written 2 poems.

Melissa

Quote from: Rana on September 15, 2006, 07:10:25 AM
(hope you dont mind Tinkerbell - I am not hijacking your thread, to me its dedicated to beautiful poems :) 
Rana

Of course I don't mind, Rana.  This is a thread of beautiful poems, indeed.  So keep posting more.. :)

tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: September 15, 2006, 05:30:32 PM

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tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: September 15, 2006, 06:40:23 PM

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This is from Kimberly....I miss you! :(

Quote from: Kimberly on July 13, 2006, 10:39:13 PM
From: http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/cs6/stop.html

Quote from: Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, be passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Mostly just the first part of the first stanza, but details.

Posted on: September 15, 2006, 08:10:56 PM

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Quote from: Marco on September 18, 2006, 07:13:29 PM
That last one you wrote Tinkerbell, is my favorite so far. You should think of publishing.

                                Marco

                         

publishing it?  no, I don't need the migraines from that! I'm a very busy girl as it is....I just write for fun not for profit :P

tinkerbell :icon_chick:

P.S.  actually I kind of like that one too....mysterious, no?
Posted on: September 18, 2006, 07:19:29 PM

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Oh Tinkerbell, you have such a wonderful description of mother.  I only wish it had been true.  I envy people who love their mothers.

Sarah L.

BIRCHES                                                           


When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.

Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,

And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves:

You may see their trunks arching in the woods

Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair

Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

But I was going to say when Truth broke in

With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,

I should prefer to have some boy bend them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows--

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

One by one he subdued his father's trees

By riding them down over and over again

Until he took the stiffness out of them,

And not one but hung limp, not one was left

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

To learn about not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise

To the top branches, climbing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

Up to the brim, and even above the brim.

Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

>From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

By Robert Frost

October

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
one from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if the were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the all.

by Robert Frost






Posted on: October 10, 2006, 03:39:14 AM

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Greatly Missed

A grandfather's touch, A grandpa's kiss,
A grieving grand daughter, You're greatly missed.

An empty house, An empty chair,
A grandfathers love, No longer there.

A broken heart, Tear filled eye,
Another soul to fill the sky.

Many memories in my mind,
Some I laugh, Some I cry.

The times we shared, The laughs we had,
Things I miss when I think of you grandpa.

Realizing that's all I have to hold on too,
Only memories, Of what once was you.

Missing your laugh, I will never again hear.
That is the reality that fills me with so much fear.

No more smile on your face,
No more warmth of your embrace.

The last hug, The last kiss,
The last "goodbye" leaves me with one last wish...

To have you grandpa, here today,
Never to leave your grand daughter this way.

A grandfather's touch, A grandpa's kiss,
A grieving grand daughter, YOU'RE GREATLY MISSED! 

:'(


tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on October 10, 2006, 11:54:17 PM

Longing grief saddens you
And alas, my friend it grieves me too.
Your family's love extends,
embraces,
caresses,
to help mend
painful loss and emptiness.

Distant friends can only wait and pray,
wanting and searching for words to convey,
hoping to ease your grief and ease the way,
of suffering the death of your patriarch.

Remember him fondly,
bring forth his sweetest memory,
share it with your family.
Abuelito will live on as long as he is remembered.

Sleep well my friend.  May you and your family
be blessed with comfort in this the saddest of times.

Cindi

:'(  May God bless you, Cindi.  My angel without wings.. do you know you have a beautiful soul?  You do!

tinkerbell :icon_chick:

                                                GONE

                In the blink of an eye. Where have you gone? I know to better place

                I have been afraid of this all my life. What will I do when you are gone?

                Who will answer the questions I will always have? When will I see you again?

                 You are gone from this place, but not from my heart, and not from my soul

                  Forever there, you will remain, and not a day shall pass that I will not recall

                   your face, your wisdom, and you smile. I will love you forever all the way into

                                                             Eternity


               Marco

Quote from: Marco on October 12, 2006, 03:25:58 PM
                                                GONE

                In the blink of an eye. Where have you gone? I know to better place

                I have been afraid of this all my life. What will I do when you are gone?

                Who will answer the questions I will always have? When will I see you again?

                 You are gone from this place, but not from my heart, and not from my soul

                  Forever there, you will remain, and not a day shall pass that I will not recall

                   your face, your wisdom, and you smile. I will love you forever all the way into

                                                             Eternity


               Marco

Thank you Marco; it was very thoughtful of you to post that poem.
tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 12, 2006, 07:08:15 PM

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Grandpa

I said good bye to my grandpa today
Many people whom I did not know came to say the same thing
I wonder why God chose you and you know what?
I think I have the answer...
...God needed one more angel to fill the empty space,
he looked around our family and saw your sweet face,
when you stopped breathing,
we knew you were gone,
you went so peacefully,
so we knew you chose the right home,
we knew your skies weren't so blue,
and the roads were getting too tough for you,
but you were always strong as a rock,
and you did the best you could do,
the best part was that you didn't die alone,
the day God sent you home.
Te quiero mucho abuelito
Y siempre viviras en mi...

tinkerbell :icon_chick:

I messed up on what day today was ??? You are strong Tink. I am glad you were ok. He is in a better place :angel:

                                            Marco

My Beloved Feline


I was walking along the footpath one night
When I saw you, a stray kitten roaming throughout the shadowy streets You
being so tiny and emaciated was a piteous sight I had no choice but to
bring you home with me

As I carried you, you did nothing but rested beneath my arms
And glimpsed at the corner where you were born
Your white silken fur with shades of black and brown were filled with
charms Brought you to my flat so you wouldn't die famished and forlorn

I offered you fried fish and you ate it with quick speed
And then gave me a look like you were thanking me
You were my cherished pet whom I was to care for daily and feed
I gave you your first bath but you kept running away so swiftly

I assume you were a month old when I first got you
You looked incredibly adorable but too little and fragile
I loved you like you were human and I know you loved me too
For you would always greet me while I'd pet you every once in a while

Several weeks went by and I watched you steadily grow
You looked even more beautiful while being older
To learn that my neighbors hated you filled me with great sorrow
Couldn't keep you in my apartment and each time they saw you they'd get
colder

Dad said, "Cats spoil our furniture and bring sickness"
But I ignored him and invited you to my room whenever I could
You being kicked by tormentors, I did not want to witness
I got into so many troubles but to leave you outside in the cold I
never would

How wonderful it was to watch you eat
Hearing your meows outside the front door
Every single day you'd beg for food beneath my feet
Tuna and sardines were your favorite as you kept asking for more

Milk and water I gave you to drink
And while you did so, your furry tail would move up and down
"How kind this person is, unlike the rest," You would think
Whenever I passed by you I'd give a smile and clear my constant frown

Your deep olive-green iris endlessly sparkled in the dark
Your delicate whiskers flew gently with the rushing wind
Together you and I would play with yarns and lark
If only we had a garden, it would have been your own park

Time passed and you became pregnant
You gave birth to three kittens, all gorgeous and flamboyant
Two coated with black and white fur and the smallest one all brown and
white Always together like a real family and never getting into a fight

Those three were like you, often timid but you all loved to explore
Your environment and the people around you
I got rather surprised when I initially saw your newborns at my door
Didn't get the chance to know them because of what happened which made me
forever blue

Some hostile neighbor sent you and your kittens away
To a deserted land so to me you won't return
I wept so much that night I wished so bad that you could stay
To my parents I acted all splenetic and stern

The next morning I found out that you came back to me
I caressed you with full devotion
The friendship between you and I, not a single one could see
You filled my vacant life with high spirits and a loving emotion

You brought with you your youngest kitten that looked exactly like your
departed friend And then you'd travel all the way to where that tyrant had
abandoned you And bring all your kittens together, for you were the one
whom they can only depend Lifting each kitten one by one to where I waited
for you

Somehow I felt like you were asking me to watch over your little ones
after you're gone But I couldn't because you were sent away again, this
time by my Dad He left you and your family beside a high-class restaurant
at dawn Not finding you anywhere when I got up late made me extremely sad

I cried so hard like a part of me had been removed
You never reappeared when I expected you to do so
To this new residence, I wish we'd never moved
Every hour I'd wait for you by the gate, feeling more disheartened and low

I shed tears as I write this poem which I'm sure you won't understand
We've known each other for ten months and yet I feel like we've been
together for a decade I look at these remarkable photos of you and I
stroke it with my hand The more I imagine you by my side, the more I am
dismayed

From the bottom of my heart I pray
That wherever you are, you and your family shall stay safe each and
every other day
I earnestly hope for your well-being
And I'm certain that you're aware of how I'm feeling
I'm missing you so much and I shall wait by the gate again today
For the time being, I lie on my bed listening to your meows all far away
And weep as I see an image of you in the ceiling I miss you, my beloved
feline "I miss you too," That quote I've always wanted to hear you say.

By Mariam D. Mababaya

************************************************************




Posted on: October 16, 2006, 06:39:00 PM

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Revelation

We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hid-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.


By Robert Frost


**********************************************************

Love and a Question


A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.

The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With, 'Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.'
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
'Stranger, I wish I knew.'

Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart's desire.

The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin.

The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;

But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.

By Robert Frost

**********************************************************

My Butterfly

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Saave only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.

The gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago--
It seems forever--
Since first I saw thee glance,
WIth all thy dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a linp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.

Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.

And there were othe rthings:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
TOo far beyond him to be gathered in,
Santched thee, o'ereager, with ungentle gasp.

Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life--
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought,
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!

Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!

I found that wing broken today!
For thou art dead, I said,
And the strang birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.

By Robert Frost

************************************************************

Pensamiento

"En las brasas de una hoguera ayer queme tus recuerdos,no eran anillos ni cartas sino silencios y juegos.  Ayer empece a olvidarte y le di tu cariño al viento y le dije muchas veces que ya no te quiero"



tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Posted on: October 17, 2006, 01:06:38 AM

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When God Made Cats



When God made the world, He chose to put animals in it, and decided to give each whatever it wanted. All the animals formed a long line before His throne, and the cat quietly went to the end of the line. To the elephant and the bear He gave strength, to the rabbit and the deer, swiftness; to the owl, the ability to see at night, to the birds and the butterflies, great beauty; to the fox, cunning; to the monkey, intelligence; to the dog, loyalty; to the lion, courage; to the otter, playfulness. And all these were things the animals begged of God. At last he came to the end of the line, and there sat the little cat, waiting patiently. "What will YOU have?" God asked the cat.

The cat shrugged modestly. "Oh, whatever scraps you have left over. I don't mind."

"But I'm God. I have everything left over."

"Then I'll have a little of everything, please."

And God gave a great shout of laughter at the cleverness of this small animal, and gave the cat everything she asked for, adding grace and elegance and, only for her, a gentle purr that would always attract humans and assure her a warm and comfortable home.

By Lenore Fleischer




Awe!  what a cute poem! :)

Quote from: Poem"What will YOU have?" God asked the cat.
The cat shrugged modestly. "Oh, whatever scraps you have left over. I don't mind." "But I'm God. I have everything left over." "Then I'll have a little of everything, please."

A little of everything???  I don't know about that! My cats are more mature and smarter than some people of my own species... :D

tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Que triste. De que piensas chica?

Cindi

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on October 17, 2006, 01:54:47 AM
Que triste. De que piensas chica?

Cindi

Pienso en lo que pudo ser y no fue, en la burla y el sarcasmo de algunas personas....*sighs*  Anyway.....like they say, sometimes when you lose, you win. ;)  ;D


Untitled


Hit to the weakness. All things being equal,
Hit crosscourt rather than down the line, because
If you hit crosscourt back to him, then he

Can only hit back toward you (crosscourt)
Or parallel to you (down the line) but never
Away from you, the way that you can hit

Away from him if he hits down the line.
Besides, the net is lowest in the middle,
The court itself is longest corner-to-corner,

So that a crosscourt stroke is the most secure,
And that should be your plan, the plan you need
For winning . . .


And here is the final section, "Winning":


Call questionable balls his way, not yours:
You lose the point but have your concentration,
The grail of self-respect. Wear white. Mind losing.

Walk, never run, between points: it will save
Your breath, and hy pnotize him, and be may think
That you are tired, until your terrible

Swift sword amazes him. By understanding
Your body, you will conquer your fatigue.
By understanding your desire to win

And all your other desirs, you will conquer
Discouragement. And you will conquer distraction
By understanding the world, and all its parts.

By Robert Pinsky

I like this poem very much! It lifts anyone's spirits for sure!


tinkerbell :icon_chick:





   

 
 

Posted on: October 17, 2006, 02:31:33 AM

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**********************************************************



Posted on: October 17, 2006, 09:03:29 PM

---

Awe!  how touching!  My God, I am in tears right now! :( :'(

tinkerbell :icon_chick:



Posted on: October 18, 2006, 06:05:43 PM

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Solamente

Sólo una palabra
que me lleve a tu amor,
un sentimiento inacabable,
y cien gritos de felicidad.

Sólo una vida para vivir,
junto a tu alma
que me embriaga
y me llena de ti.

Sólo mil momentos,
para soñarte,
para no despertarme
y no dejar de amarte.

By Tinkerbell  :icon_chick:

I love your Solamente poem Tink.  It is lovely.  Poetry is so beautiful in Spanish.  It has a rhythm that rolls.  English is so harsh... so much more difficult to form a beautiful thought.

Cindi

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on October 18, 2006, 06:51:14 PM
I love your Solamente poem Tink.  It is lovely.  Poetry is so beautiful in Spanish.  It has a rhythm that rolls.  English is so harsh... so much more difficult to form a beautiful thought.

Cindi

I agree!  English has a limited vocabulary, and this is why it is sooooo hard for us, non-native speakers, to transmit our feelings the way we would like to.  I'm glad you liked the solamente poem.  I have been thinking in Spanish tonight and writing a lot, so please forgive me if the following poem is also in Spanish.

Que lindas son tus palabras. Deseo que podría expresarme en la manera adecuada.  Perso las palabras son perdidas.  Que lastima.  Siento lo mismo muneca.

Cindi

I was just talking to my childhood friend Kike tonight and he sent this to me....I know it is a part of a song, but I don't know the name of the song or the author. 

So it is true when they say "sometimes when you lose, you win" or "when a door closes, another one opens".... :)

QuoteTo every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose
under the heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant,
and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones,
and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace,
and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.

tinkerbell :icon_chick:



Posted on: October 18, 2006, 09:21:40 PM

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Posted on: October 18, 2006, 11:34:53 PM

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Cindi, I will be posting a few poems from the greatest Spanish poets every now and then, so our spanish-speaking members and guests can enjoy them too.  At one point in highschool, our literature teacher made us memorize all of these poems (the ones I've written today and the ones which will follow...)




Posted on: October 19, 2006, 02:40:28 AM

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Posted on: October 19, 2006, 06:14:11 PM

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Posted on: October 19, 2006, 06:42:23 PM

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Some Thoughts = Algunos Pensamientos



Viví sin conocerte y cuando te conocí comprendí que no había vivido.



Es inevitable conocerte y no quererte , quererte y no amarte , amarte y no tenerte.



Amar y querer no es lo mismo , pues el que quiere exije más y el que ama lo entrega todo.


Te lo diría en ingles, te lo diría en italiano, pero para que lo entiendas mejor te lo digo en castellano: Te amo.


Me enamore de tus ojos, me enamoraste con tu ser y no sé vivir mi niño si no tengo tu querer.



tinkerbell :icon_chick:






Posted on: October 19, 2006, 07:26:43 PM

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Posted on: October 19, 2006, 09:41:22 PM

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"Prayer Before Birth"


I am not yet born, console me,
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood baths roll me.

unknown author


**********************************************************


REINCARNATION

Were you born once in winter,
In Europes ice and snow,
When villages were dark at night
and wolves roamed round the towering hills?
Or, dark skinned, did your swaddling cry
pierce Egypt's early dawn?
How many birthdays come and gone,
how many homelands each your own?
How many loves have whispered through
the patterns of your mind?
How many sons and daughters have grown
from your womb or loins?
What voices merge with mine
to wish you happy birthday,
and what loves within your past
lay out a feast of cakes and wine?

Jane Roberts

**********************************************************

Next time


You  now know how I look like,
Don't ever forget about these eyes
For they will be the same color next time I am alive
And perhaps then
We could be a family again,
You, the two dark-haired children, and I
only the four of us,
with just a horse
and our meadows house
with no one else around..
Make sure I am the one you find first next time
Because if you don't
I will find you wherever you are! :)

by tinkerbell  :icon_chick:

Pensamientos hermosos, Tinkerbell!. Quiero cuando puedo practicar la lectura en español.

Pam :icon_tears:

Quote from: MarcosGirl on October 19, 2006, 11:52:59 PM
Pensamientos hermosos, Tinkerbell!. Quiero cuando puedo practicar la lectura en español.

Pam :icon_tears:

Geez, I tried to quote you and pressed the modify key by mistake, sorry!. Nothing was erased from your original post though.

So, my response to your above statement was "Thank you, Pam :)  You can visit: www dot poesiaenespanol dot com; They have a great selection of the most famous Spanish poets.  I am almost certain that they have helpul links where you could go and improve your reading and writing skills in Spanish."

Take care of yourself! :)

tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 20, 2006, 12:20:27 AM

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The Door


And so I looked
towards the door,
my thoughts lingering
like your presence -
Shadows of indifference upon the threshold.
To exit would be
your finality,
the escape of all I
once held as true;
my depravity the doorknob.

The door has always been open,
but until now I have avoided
the Coldness, the continual draft
of your existence.
The other side beckons to me
with it's decadent hands of denial,
so eagerly awaiting this
staved immaculance.

To walk through that door,
to forget,
would be my last act of submission
carried out in your name.
So I walked
through that door, and I
left my shroud of naivete
on the hanger nearby
that is cluttered
with other such hypocrisy.

author unknown


**********************************************************

He is to her


Like water
he is to her
She has seen him
Rage like the sea.
And she has seen him
In placidity.
She's frightened of his depths . . .
Will she float if she jumps in?
She's so very tired of seeing
Everyone else get to swim!
She gathers her courage . . .
To him she runs so fast . . .
As if the Devil himself were on her back.
Blindly, she leaps . . .
And all is quiet
No cries spoken . . .
As she lies on the rocks helpless
And broken.
she'd forgotten
While on shore where its safe . . .
That like water . . .
He can be cold, shallow . . .
And fake.

unknown author



Tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Posted on: October 20, 2006, 03:18:08 AM

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If I Only Had Two Hearts


If only I had to hearts, it will hold a lot of love
For that poor boy or girl, who lives in the street
For that sad old woman, I saw down in the deep
And for that hungry elderly man, who has no one to share
His last piece of stale bread, soar milk and rotten pare
If I only had two hearts

If I could pump the blood from my heart and give it to that dying child
If I could hold deep within my chest, that teenager girl who is running wild
If I could educated that sista who don't seem to have it all
If I only had two hearts, I could give the world that final call

Scars from my teardrops that stained my wedding gown
The quietness in that death man's fragile sound
With the love of my well-being, and thoughts from my thrifty mind
If I only had two hearts, I will make the world unwind

If I only had two hearts, I would gladly give you one
A message from me to you,
If I only had two hearts.



author unknown 

Te lo diría en ingles, te lo diría en italiano, pero para que lo entiendas mejor te lo digo en castellano: Te amo.

??? ??? ??? ??? ???

Quote from: Marco on October 20, 2006, 12:30:54 PM
Te lo diría en ingles, te lo diría en italiano, pero para que lo entiendas mejor te lo digo en castellano: Te amo.

Translation: " I could tell you in English, I could tell you in Italian, but I will tell you in Spanish so that you can understand better: I love you."


tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 20, 2006, 06:28:03 PM

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Betrayal


Betrayal is love's and friendship's greatest sin
It's the one act that kills off the sweet
'might have beens'
To the innocent heart, unsuspecting and true
The act of betrayal is deadly and cruel
Unsuspecting, the knives take their aim
Then extinguish love's once growing flame...

Betrayal is not just of flesh
Though it might be much simpler to forgive
Then the rest
But the actions used solely to manipulate
Are spawned in deceit to control with such hate
And the heart that once loved is shot down
So, Betrayal wins one final round...

**********************************************************

FAKE


Fake
Forsake
Take
Don't Make
Wait not
See
Never flee
Twist
Around
Turn
All fake


Free
And
Frank
Black
And
White
Mix
Converge


Lost all color
Shades of Grey
Blah blah blah
Clear you see
All so curled
All so colored
Colors
All around


Blind you were
See you now
Altered views
Altered lives


Pretend
Survive
The truth
You see
Or not
Disguise
Deceive
Protect


Obfuscate
And live
All around
Shadows but
Substance hidden
Sight obscured
Turning
Fake


**********************************************************

Untitled


Days without asking
Days without thinking
Days without substance
Gone in a blink


Days of no concept
Days of no future
Days of no fire
Not fixed in ink


Days just in nothing
Days just in dreaming
Days just in faking
All so deranged


Days, all denying
Days, never crying
Days, never laughing
Time just gone by


Nowhere an answer
Nowhere a question
Nowhere a growing
Empty your showing


Days without traces
Days of no places
Days without memories
Days without you.

**********************************************************


By: Portia Nelson


1. I walk, down the street.   
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.   
  I fall in.   
  I am lost...  I am hopeless.
    It isn't my fault.
  It takes forever to find a way out.   


2. 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 am in the same place.   
     But it isn't my fault.


3. I walk down the same street.   
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.   
  I see it is there.   
  I still fall in; its a habit.   
    My eyes are open
    I know where I am.
  It is my fault.   
  I get out immediately.   


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


5. I walk down another street.

**********************************************************


To My Children


Where have all the years gone --
How did I let them slip by me?
I thought I had all the time in the
world, but I didn't I see.

My son is soon to be a man --
My daughters are planning to be wives.
But it seems like only yesterday,
It was I who was planning their lives.

I blew their little noses --
I kissed away their tears.
I told them pretty stories --
What happened to all the years?

You have your babies around you,
And you turn to other things as they play --
But don't turn around for too long,
Or they'll be grown up, and on their way.

You will have missed the homemade
boats, and the smudgy Valentines --
There will be nothing left of their childhood--
How you'll miss "Will you be mine?"

For there's nothing any dearer
Than a little hand holding tight--
Or standing there waving,
As you drive out of sight.

But soon you'll be standing waving,
As they go on their way.
To live their lives the way they want,
Leaving behind just memories of yesterday.

Oh, where have all the years gone--
What happened to those babies of mine?
I turned around a moment too long--
And now they've crossed the grownup line.

Martha Benton

**********************************************************


Why?
by Raven  J Johnson

Why? Why?
Why did you have to just get up and leave?
Why didn't you say good-bye?
Why did you just run out our lives when you knew we needed you?
Why did you wait so long to see us again?
Why weren't you there when we needed you? 
Why did you walk out on us like that; what was the purpose? 
Why did you act like you loved us when you really didn't show it?
Did you think giving us money would show your love for us?
Why did you break our hearts the way you did?
Why did you leave a bruise that we couldn't heal? 
Why did you leave a scar that wouldn't go away?
Why did you walk out on my father and us?
Why, when we were so young and needed you desperately?
But someone has taken your place as a mother and a wife. Why?

**********************************************************

Porque abuelito?  why grandpa?

I sit on your grave wondering why
Me siento en tu tumba y me pregunto porque

Why did you have to die?
Porque tuviste que morirte?

Why did you leave me?
Porque me dejaste?

Did you have to?
Tenias que hacerlo?

I'm so lost without you by my side
Me siento tan perdida sin ti cerca a mi lado

I wish you were here.
Desearia que estuvieses aqui.

I need your help
Necesito tu ayuda

All I can do is sit here and cry wishing for you to come back
Todo lo que puedo hacer es sentarme aqui y suplicarte que regreses

Why did you have to die?
Porque tuviste que morirte?

Did you have to?
Tenias que hacerlo?

Without you I'm lost
Sin ti estoy perdida

I'm so lost, so so lost.
estoy perdida, muy pero muy perdida.


by tinkerbell

**********************************************************

Porque pretendes que no me quieres?

Porque le niegas a tu corazon que palpite,
Why do you prevent your heart from beating

Porque lloras sin lagrimas
why do you cry without tears

Porque cierras tus ojos a la verdad que te quema por dentro
why do you close your eyes and let the truth burn you inside

Porque pretendes no quererme
why do you pretend you don't love me


Porque no admites que me recuerdas a cada instante
why don't you admit that you remember me every instant

Porque no dices que me imaginas entre tus brazos
why don't you say that you imagine me in your arms

Porque huyes de lo que sientes
why do you run away from what you feel


Porque duermes sin sonar por dentro
why do you sleep without dreaming


Porque pretendes no quererme
why do you pretend you don't love me

Porque pretendes no desearme
why do you pretend you don't want me

Porque pretendes no querer hablarme
why do you pretend you don't want to talk to me

Porque pretendes cerrarte ante lo que es obvio
why do you deny what it's obvious

Yo se que todo lo que haces lo pretendes, salvo el amarme.
I know that you pretend everything you do, except to love me.

by tinkerbell

**********************************************************

La noche es triste
y al final de la eternidad se escucha
el llanto de un pajarillo atormentado
que no encuentra su nido..

La noche es fria
tanto que mis sentimientos estan hechos hielo
tanto que mi corazon ya no palpita
tanto que ya no respiro

La noche es plena
muy negra en las oscuridad de si misma
como el pasadiso que nos conecta
al hades de nuestros propios miedos

La noche es eterna
infinita
como el castigo de Dios sobre
las almas malas
como cuando la silla electrica
se detona
o cuando el telefono
no suena.



by Tinkerbell





Posted on: October 20, 2006, 10:02:04 PM

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**********************************************************


Pour toi mon amour du fond de mon âme ....  ;) ;)

Je t'aime


Je t'aime en silence mais mon amour remplit tout.
Je t'aime sans larme, sans musique et
j'aime la douleur de t'aimer ainsi, obscurément.
Je t'aime avec douceur, comme l'oiseau aime son nid.
Comme le vent berce les blés et continue de souffler.
Et l'amour que tu éveilles en moi, me donne la vie et
en même temps la mort.

L'agonie de t'aimer, sans que tu le saches est amère.
Mais je me réjouis de la sentir et de la porter en mon âme.
Je t'aime avec la suavité d'un clair de lune.
Comme s'aiment les roses dans la nuit.
Ainsi je t'aime silencieusement, avec douceur, avec délire,
avec angoisse et sans que tu le saches mon amour.
JE T'AIME...

Par moi ;)

***************************************************************
Te Amo
 
Te amo
Te amo de una manera inexplicable.
De una forma inconfesable.
De un modo contradictorio.
Te amo
Con mis estados de ánimo que son muchos,
y cambian de humor continuamente.
Por lo que ya sabes,
El tiempo.
La vida.
La muerte.
   
Te amo
con el mundo que no entiendo.
Con la gente que no comprende.
Con la ambivalencia de mi alma.
Con la incoherencia de mis actos,
Con la fatalidad del destino.
Con la conspiración del deseo.
Con la ambigüedad de los hechos.
Aún cuando te digo que no te amo, te amo.
Hasta cuando te engaño, no te engaño.
En el fondo, llevo a cabo un plan,
para amarte... mejor.
Pues, aunque no lo creas, mi piel
extraña enormemente
la ausencia de tu piel.
 
Te amo.
Sin reflexionar, inconscientemente,
irresponsablemente,
espontáneamente,
involuntariamente,
por instinto,
por impulso,
irracionalmente.
En efecto no tengo argumentos lógicos,
ni siquiera improvisados
para fundamentar este amor que siento por ti,
que surgió misteriosamente de la nada,
que no ha resuelto mágicamente nada,
y que milagrosamente, de a poco, con poco y nada
ha mejorado lo peor de mi.
 
Te amo.
Te amo con un cuerpo que no piensa,
con un corazón que no razona,
con una cabeza que no coordina.
Te amo
incomprensiblemente.
Sin preguntarme, por qué te amo.
Sin importarme por qué te amo.
Sin cuestionarme por qué te amo.
Te amo
sencillamente porque te amo.
Yo misma no se por qué te amo.

Por mi ;)







Posted on: October 21, 2006, 12:53:34 PM

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**********************************************************

thoughts

No habia nada antes de ti
No sabia nada antes de ti
No me importaba nada antes de ti
No sonaba nada antes de ti
Y se hizo el mundo despues de ti
Y supe todo despues de ti
Me importo la vida despues de ti
Sone contigo despues de ti
Se hizo la luz despues de ti.... :)

tinkerbell
Posted on: October 21, 2006, 01:06:34 PM

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**********************************************************

I love you, te amo, Je t'aime!!!!

un jour je meurt
et que tu ouvres mon coeur
tu verras écrit en lettre d'or:
..... je t'aime encore!


J'aimerais être un poignard pour faire couler ton sang comme tu fais couler mes larmes.


L'amour nait d'un regard,vit d'un baiser et se finit par des larmes.


Même si l'océan était une grande feuille de papier et que l'eau de l'ancre j'en aurait pas assez pour te dire:..... je t'aime!


Ton nom est facile à lire,facile à écrire mais dur à oublier.


Toujours et jamais
voilà mon secret
toujours t'aimer
sans jamais t'oublier.


La magie du premier amour c'est d'ignorer qu'il puisse finir un jour.


J'ai besoin de toi
de la douceur de tes bras
de sentir ton soufle me caresser
tes lèvres m'embrasser...


J'ai su te connaitre...
J'ai su t'aimer...
Je saurai disparaitre
sans jamais t'oublier


Chaque étoile que tu vois est un baiser que je t'envoie.


Une larme de joie
Une larme de peine
Une larme pour toi
toi que j'aime.


Quand je t'ai vu j'avais les yeux remplis de bonheur mais quand tu as casser j'avais les yeux remplis de larmes.


Jamais je n'oublierai la personne que j'ai vraiment aimer.


Dis lui que je l'hais,dis lui que je ne l'aime plus,dis lui que j'en aime un autre,dis lui tout sauf que je te l'ai dit en pleurant.


Un jour l'amour dit à l'amitié:pourquoi existe-tu?Et l'amitié répond:pour sécher les larmes que tu fais couler...


Il est possible de t'aimer sans te connaitre mais impossible de te connaitre sans t'aimer...


Si tu n'as jamais pleurer c'est que tu n'as jamais aimer.


Ça m'a pris une seconde t'aimer mais ça me prendra la fin du monde pour t'oublier...


Mon coeur bat uniquement pour toi,mon esprit pense uniquement à toi et mon corps vit uniquement pour toi.Je t'aime!


La vie est tellement douce à tes côtés que tout le reste je veux l'oublier.Plus rien d'autre n'a d'importance quand c'est à toi que je pense...


J'aime l'amour mais j'aime encore plus lui que j'aime.


Dis moi seulement que tu m'aimes et je n'aurai plus de peine...


Si tu ne veux pas m'aimer eh bien moi je veux crever...



tinkerbell :icon_chick:


Tu m'as blessée...Tu m'as tuée....Mais je ne peux pas m'empêcher de toujours t'aimer




Posted on: October 21, 2006, 01:09:55 PM

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..................and now...in Italian..... :-* ;D

Ti amo 

Ti amo, un soldo 
Ti amo, in aria 
Ti amo se viene testa 
vuol dire che basta: 
lasciamoci. 
Ti amo, io sono 
Ti amo, in fondo un uomo 
che non ha freddo nel cuore, 
nel letto comando io. 

Ma tremo 
davanti al tuo seno, 
ti odio e ti amo, 
e' una farfalla che muore 
sbattendo le ali. 
L'amore che a letto si fa 
prendimi l'altra meta' 
oggi ritorno da lei 
primo Maggio,su coraggio! 
Io ti amo 
e chiedo perdono 
ricordi chi sono 
apri la porta 
a un guerriero di carta igienica. 
Dammi il tuo vino leggero 
che hai fatto quando non c'ero 
e le lenzuola di lino 
dammi il sonno di un bambino 
Che "ta" sogna cavalli e si gira 
e un po' di lavoro 
fammi abbracciare una donna 
che stira cantando. 
E poi fatti un po' prendere in giro 
prima di fare l'amore 
vesti la rabbia di pace 
e sottane sulla luce. 

Io ti amo e chiedo perdono 
ricordi chi sono 
ti amo, ti amo,ti amo 
ti amo ti amo 
dammi il tuo vino leggero... 
che hai fatto quando non c'ero 
e le lenzuola di lino 
dammi il sonno di un bambino 
Che "ta" sogna cavalli e si gira 
e un po' di lavoro 
fammi abbracciare una donna 
che stira cantando. 
E poi fatti un po' prendere 
in giro 
prima di fare l'amore 
vesti la rabbia di pace 
e sottane sulla luce. 
io ti amo, 
ti amo, ti amo 
ti amo, ti amo ...

sono il tuo amore ;)  :icon_chick:




   
 
 
 

Posted on: October 21, 2006, 01:37:13 PM

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**********************************************************



Manifesto d'amore


Tu amore mette in marcia la mia vita,

Ogni giorno quando mi sveglio penso a te ed impazzisco,

Desidero vederti, ho bisogno di te come una dose d'insulina,

Altrimenti il giorno é come un'incubo nero.

Innamorato fino alle ossa tremo prima di vederti,

Scodinzolo la coda  come un cagnolino che vuole carezze,

La tua anima illumina la mia stanza quando entri,

E sento un nodo dolce che mi stringe la gola.



Non mancarmi mai vita mia, non abbandonarmi,

Ché questo poema d'amore funzioni come pegno eterno,

Leggilo e dimmi che sarai sempre mia,

Leggilo,chiudi la portae tira la chiave.



**********************************************************

Magía nei tuoi occhi

La luna bagna il tuo viso con i suoi raggi d'argento,

E lo spettacolo piú bello del mondo si scatena davanti ai miei occhi,

Sono cosciente della tua bellezza fino al punto di sentirmi male,

Sono preda del tuo sguardo come l'ultimo prigioniero.

Fiori e sogni corrono sul tuo viso,

Dorata meraviglia di amori falliti,




Amore poesia eterno


Lasciami avvicinarmie toccarti le guancie bianche,

Voglio sapere adesso e per sempre se sei reale.

Rapido,amore mio ,usciamo da qui,

Ora che sei una donna non voglio perderti,

La roncola del disamore taglia la testa ai distratti.



La tinkerbella :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 21, 2006, 01:47:19 PM

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First time


The first time I saw you,
I felt the blood was boiling,
and felt my body hovered,
in the air,
the time stopped,
and you,
came slowly closer,
your eyes shone,
the earth disappeared,
I was lost!


unknown author


tinkerbell :icon_chick:

Posted on: October 22, 2006, 02:38:53 AM

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**********************************************************

untitled

Writing runs through my blood in the form of ink which stains paper with its words that flow from my heart. I am both a write, and reader. I am man, woman, child, I am no one yet everyone. I'm neither here nor there, yet I surround the world. You can find me in a school, in a book store, and newspapers. I am your thoughts, both spoken and unspoken. I am a story, poem, note. Use me as you will, but never leave me. I am written words of fear, joy, sorrow, and shame. I am paper, bleed your thoughts upon my pages for all the world to see. Read my words, heed my words, but never forget my meaning in your heart.

Unknown author


**********************************************************

JUST ME

To cry because I am me is cruel
To hurt because I am me is cruel
Why am I me

I am here to become a special person
To challenge and question all
Yet the question I can't answer
Is why am I me

I crave that desire to be normal
To walk a road of petals
To just for a moment feel peace in my mind

To harsh is this place for I
To gentle that's why I cry
A battered child, that craves for love
A child that still believes the pain will go away
To curl up like a caterpillar
And just dream of the waking butterfly

For me that awakening is too late
With broken wings, I can only try
The truth is I will never fly

I can only watch as I see the world
With broken wings and in a whirl
My wings they shine like a butterfly
Yet broke inside the world cant see
Just leave me alone and leave me be

A place of peace will be one day
For me in heaven, it's no dismay
I have no fear of the special day
To sleep in peace that's what I pray

I ask for strength to do some good
For lots of people without food
Or without homes, or things for life
At least I can help with their strife

I will use my wise and weird brain
To try and help those people train
For helping others I won't be beat
Yet my own life is such a feat.

by Diane

**********************************************************

Not all transsexuals consider themselves to be trapped in the wrong body, and this poem depicts that feeling...



It's Different


It's different.
When you talk about "men," you probably don't mean me.
When you talk about "females," you probably don't mean me either.
When you talk about "butches," you probably still don't mean me.
When you talk about "transsexuals," even then you probably don't mean me.
But I am all of those things.
I am a butch female transman.
I am a man, but I wasn't taught or expected to be a man.
I don't see things the way other men do.
It's different.
I am a female, but I never took the lessons of "being female" to heart.
I don't see things the way other females do either.
It's different.
I am a butch, but I'm not woman-identified or dyke-identified and never was.
But butch is still a part of who I am.
It's different.
I am a transsexual, but I don't feel like a "man trapped in a woman's body." I don't mind my female body. Just certain parts of it.
I can be a butch man.
I can be a female man.
I can be a transsexual who doesn't absolutely hate his body.
I can be whoever I am.
I am a butch female transman,
And it's different.

unknown author

**********************************************************

Untitled


The walls blind and silence.
The walls are cold.
They separate and keep secrets,
And it's both of us they hold.

For every stone we lift from the ground,
We leave a hole behind.
It takes so much to make these walls,
In price of body, soul and mind.

Footing choices dwindle.
We stack stones and make them tall.
The holes become deeper,
We now both venture to fall.

Distrust, Distrust...

Every once in a while,
Other fingers set a stone.
Why don't we tear down?
Instead of adding to this pile?

Distrust, Distrust...

Oh, what we both endure.
We tread through the mud we make.
To build our problem higher,
All for nothing's sake.

Distrust, Distrust...

We ruin our land.
The stones in the wall,
Could now better serve us,
For something on which to stand.

Will we both remove stone for stone?
Can we find faith within?
Can we heal the ground,
So that growth can begin.

Distrust, Distrust...

We do lack trust.
In truth we insure,
Count stones, but tear this wall down,
We must.

Do I trust? Do I trust?

We erase the wall to the course we first lay.
This damn odd stone,
Was here before starting.
So neither of us, did ever betray.

Trust, Trust...

Let's bury it in the ground,
That's what we do with the last.
Let's not leave for two others,
Anything but this tale in the past.

unknown author

**********************************************************

I AM


I am the man with a feminine face.
I am the woman with facial hair.

I am the woman who likes motorcycles.
I am the man who likes flowers.

I am the woman with big arms.
I am the man who is slight.

I was the woman at the construction site.
I was the man in the dress.

I am a man with breasts.
I am the woman with a flat chest.

I look like what you may think a gay man looks like.
I look like what you may think a gay woman looks like.

Unknown author

**********************************************************

Sometimes


Sometimes...

I check every door, trying to find any unlocked,
Trying to open the one that has tomorrow behind it,
While looking back to the one before.

Sometimes...

Distance tests.
It tries and taxes my soul.
It finds where seams meet. It checks along edges,
Always searching, and never rests.

Sometimes...

Even the simplest things seem to take so much,
I can slip into counting days and blessings,
Until I am reminded that it's only...

Sometimes.

I am cautious that I might lead myself to a dead end.
I navigate with trial and error,
While learning to anticipate what is around the next bend.

Sometimes...

I try to walk intently, and not make a mistake.
Cobblestone is pretty, but it's easy to trip on.
The subconscious can be a friend or foe,
And how far down any given street should I go?

Sometimes...

Anything is better than nothing.
Find something new.
Grab the frame,
And pull myself through.

Unknown author

**********************************************************


Gender Rain

Small child, girl,
Believe in life-mine,
Shown very-wrong.
Birth of my falling,
Start of the chase,
For the "me," I now long.

Difference so-blurred.
Knowledge shining through,
Harsh lessons,
Had not yet, occurred.

Battles, inside and out,
Alone or not,
Mind and body,
Still not fought.
Shame for me and my dreams,
Still, not yet taught.

I have enough can't you see.
Dress, tease and beat me,
Shame me into shape.
Cut off my hair.
Is this how I should be?
Tears fall and fall,
So shall I, but can't you see?

~

Take me at 12,
Tell me you love me,
Teach me a riddle,
What should feel good.
Treat me like meat,
Ensure my silence.
Add to my shame.
Your desire to touch yourself there,
Is not at all, understood.

Play out the riddle.
Touch with one or five,
No need to form a ring.
Just one need, enter me where?
Hopeless, broken, self-pity,
Growing the question.
Daily I loose hope,
But I wish I was different,
So-changed, physically.

~

Love me at 15,
First I ever felt.
Giddy feels so deep,
Tremble in my arm.
For love, play a role,
Did I give her my love, or harm?

Stop my heart,
Dare she ask me...
If I a girl, and she a boy,
I would still love you.
Would you still love me?
Or would we be through.
(I so-feared both.)

We part-of-path,
You don't know what you have,
Until you have not.
Need will leave, but I love her.

~

Taken at 15, in grieve and weakness,
From very close, more shame stir.

~

Along the way...
Bottle lifted so-high,
So-bright, often, the glowing ember,
From leaves and hash, seen in my eye.

It's raw, rare and sickening sweet,
Seeps from slashed flowers,
Burns for minutes,
Forgets for hours.

Melts-in-your-mouth, then spit out the paper.
On inhaled powder by the gram,
And pretty colored pills,
Of being alert, I am not a fan.

Death, daily I cheat you.
Self and destructive behavior, drug abuse,
I tease you, my life please-take.
Body and soul, there is no truce.

Looking back,
I was not alone on this ride.
I sometimes wonder if the ones I was with,
Pushed hard enough and died.

~

Two years later, again in love I fall.
Such comfort, passion, heat in our kiss,
From the moment you touched me,
But here, this time, I'm wired for this.

It's not me, it's not me!
Rip me apart, body and soul!
This is very normal, but not for me.
Something of the outer, not inner role.

Unbearable, bitter is the pain,
Against the river of my soul, swims my shell.
Death now, so-very-wanted,
Not yet part of this hell.

But, you have taken my arm,
Placed love, interfered my self-hate.
Stop my action, tears fall, sadness dawns,
But I feel for me, life, it's too late.

If I have anything left to give,
If there is any love in me at all.
To give, the only thing I have left,
Forever I miss you, I set you adrift, and wait to fall.

I head for shallows, but on the way,
I could love you, even trust a he.
Romantic is this time, with this he.
Do I need more, him with me?

I saw me in his eyes want because,
I told him I was in love with him,
You want me alone, but you run away,
Leaving me alone, life gets more dim.

~

Then with her, she wanted for me,
To exist, as I could not yet.
I, her submissive little thing,
Warm love in my heart,
Lust does reach my hands.
At ends with my path being set.

Quiet dewy, clear is the night,
Stars fill the sky.
As I look up through time,
Pondered only,
The thoughts and feeling,
I so-deeply want to die.

~

Like the sun, could a ray,
Would warmth of hope find its way here?
Touch me, I do need,
So there may be another day.

Patience, my time will come.
Morning breaks, the light touches my face.
Life has an end, forget, pretend, and wait.
Nearly without a dream, but one.

Although being my-self, I never allowed,
Think, feel anything else.
Fill my days with every other thing.
Rains come, but eventually distraction does cloud.

~

A year or so later, I do fall for a friend.
In love, push away the ones I need.
I'm no good, forget me I plead!
Do I tell or is the truth harder, so we I try to end.
(Stubborn, she return)

Then, one any-day, dare-someone see me.
But I feel, you look right through.
You wake me, were you, are you?
—Storm of hope from almost none, gave by she!

Exist even beyond my wildest dreams,
Stricken with hope, I can't ever be, not me again.
I do-now smile, life as I know it,
Quickly unraveled at the seams.

I'm sorry I can't play my role any more.
I brought out deep fears in the one I still love.
My soul mate, I, she does now hate.
I love, I need, I miss you, and loose you like all from before.

Trust in others, I do now confide.
Fast hard growth now comes,
The pivotal fear still remains.
Is this my turning point, do I decide?

~

Soul and shell, will we meet,
May any of me reach the surface.

The same body, curse now gift,
Now blur the lie, between two truths.
Help cut a path into tomorrow,
For the once dammed.

Spices, herbs seed the end,
Of the physical male left around me.
Grow of small girl around for all to see.

Forever to sleep, some sense of feeling,
Finish me—for what you are stealing!

Pretty is me, and I am of flower.
So harsh the pain of growth,
Such the reward.

But, after twenty-eight years,
Dreams, moments, sorrow and tears.

Dare! Want!, Need!
Seven-thousand, six-hundred days,
My flower outside, has died.

Loss, I grieve so deep!
Days to follow now seem,
Like mountains so steep.

Carry so tightly, fragments of my dreams.
I hide here, lie before me to mend,
What hasn't fell through my fingers.

The pieces get small,
More needs to bond,
Longer, warmth needs to wait,
On every fall.

Will enough still be here to take shape,
To casts a shadow,
Will it hold time,
Or will life slip through,
To lose forever, me.

But, I am on the inside,
And stronger, my hold on the outside.
If I feel safe enough,
I might become in you,
And you may also see,
What is truly...me.

~

Why did I bring you here?
And show you my meandering path.
No matter how bad life seems,
Never let go of your dreams.

Don't leave everyone and take yourself.
Life can be filled with beauty, you never thought,
And maybe someday include, the very things you sought.

Icy mountains of today,
May hide warm valleys of tomorrow.
Keep alive your hopes,
Don't let them be melted with your sorrow.

Take someone's heart and mind by the hand,
Be yourself don't matter what.
Your special, love will find you, don't you fear.
Your more than twisted ladder-writing,
And the path that led you here.

This day's blue may fade to orange on the horizon,
Gray clouds with silver edges may remain so still.
Light rays resting on the mountains,
May even slowly lose their will.

Though, tomorrow's winter mountains,
Can have a lush, dewy-green valley below.
Breaking right through the hardest of stone,
Even during blinding pain,
A living thing can somehow manage to grow...

By Brenda Ellen

**********************************************************

A strangely familiar full moon


Wait. That silvery circle hanging over the trees
Is exactly as it was many decades ago.
Slow the headlong search for change
Learn the rhythms of the Earth, of its sisterly Moon.
Home upon a planet that looks out across skies
Dotted with suns and stars all once known.
There is comfort in seeing the full Moon exactly
Where it has always been far off to the South.

Pointing in a westerly direction is the new Moon crescent
The old ways are ever retrod, landing places beckon
Where you once stepped under the canopy of heaven.
It is all strangely familiar, as though you have come home.

**********************************************************

The calling of the birds


The constellation Cassiopeia seems strangely familiar.
Indian drum beats pounding out life fervently
Drift across the still water of the lake at night.
There is mostly silence bar the geese quietly chattering.
After the turbulence of your days, the struggles,
The heartaches, comes peace, perfect peace, all is blessed.
The steeple of the ancient church , with 1500 years
Of history gathered here, points splendidly to the heavens.
On the old ridgeway, the track from Kingston
Has led here down the long years, past
My school you sent me to after coaching,
Past the house of the poet Robert Graves,
Past the pubs we entered at the dawn of adulthood
And where you too came to sup one Christmas
Cheering the passing of another of your long years
Ready to go on and anticipate fresh spring growth.

A voice ringing across the centuries of worship
Recites the rosary and implores Our Lady
To pray for us at the hour of our death.
People file past the coffin touching the plain wood
In respect for one who has departed from their midst
After some 70 years among these hallowed walls.
The organ swells with pride as the final hymn reverberates
Ave Maria. Ave, Ave, Ave Maria. It is simply time to go.

The pause of night allows no rest or peace.
An ancient house at the edge of the known world
Hangs over us all reminding of former times and glories
When in the first flush of summer the ripe bud
Of a girl entrances and delights at the entrance to life.
Laid bare and open on the earth among the bracken
A fly buzzes around her liquid sap and startles
With knowledge of her smouldering animal attraction.

Just now the lake is frozen, the Earth white with snow
Only the distant yellow sun rising over the bare trees
Announces how life will one day return to this place
At the edge of the known world. The distant
Calling of the birds calls me back to the lake
Where in youth it shimmered with the scent of life.
Each talking bird carries its message from other worlds
A robin in the garden trills its notes of joy and peace.
And you are gone.

**********************************************************

Leaving for a far shore


The light far out to sea has gone
After some long time shining bright
A boat set out for some distant shore
Whose destination we can only guess this night.
The souls aboard this barque setting out
To rendezvous with the weighting of fate
Can rest assured the time of their going
Has long been known to the rulers designate.

The lights on board tantalise like stars
Shining brightly across the dark mysterious sea
Caught in the darkness, majestically marking the progress
Of the royal ship heading south towards infinity.

**********************************************************


It's your life

You are not in control of your life, follow.
In a land where the blue white moon shines
Fast and reckless go till your belly wallows.
Plunge into the state where in ancient times
Mountains stood as today, night makes haloes
Round the almost full moon - remember your lines.
You re-entering her land of silent hopes
Through vast lofty tunnels let the mind race.
Ice hangs from the hungry roof like ropes,
Stones jut and jar, that coldness you taste.
The light is orange eerie, your eyes lope
Towards the end of this entrance, your breath abates.

You are ascending among mountains of nodding roads.
Yes, this is the way. See the snow splattered stones
The cold dark valleys, dimly green blue, no reds
To lighten this crystal land, the earth shines with its bones
Those great soaring structures, occasionally water's shed
From above to below, seized by cold it groans.

You may see in the frozen water of the falls
The stunning grip her land has. Beauty revealed
To be the sternest judge, when she calls
Tear through the tunnels and valleys of water congealed
To the only warmth on the earth, your heart appals
If you cannot now receive the love she's sealed.

**********************************************************


Posted on: October 22, 2006, 09:00:27 PM

---

Gerard,  merci beaucoup pour t'appel et je suis très désolée pour entendre parler de ton divorce.  C'est toujours dur quand nous perdons les gens que nous aimons, mais parfois nous avons besoin de faire que nous devons faire pour être heureux.  Je suis toujours ici n'importe quand t'as besoin de moi.
Tu es un ami très spécial et je suis contente que tu penses pareil de moi.

Tout ce que je dois dire de Catalina est cela:

"It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for her sin:
She sucked a secret, and she wore a mask.
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had".


Je toi verrai demain au travail! :)

R.





Posted on: October 22, 2006, 09:52:35 PM

---

El Desdichado

je suis le ténébreux - le veuf, - l'inconsolé,
Le prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie;
Ma seule étoile est morte, - et mon luth constellé
Porte le soleil noir de la Mélancolie.

Dans la nuit du tombeau, toi qui m'as consolé,
Rends-moi le Pausilippe et la mer d'Italie,
La fleur qui plaisait tant à mon coeur désolé,
Et la treille où le pampre à la rose s'allie.

Suis-je Amour ou Phébus?... Lusignan ou Biron?
Mon front est rouge encor du baiser de la reine;
J'ai rêvé dans la grotte où nage la sirène...

Et j'ai deux fois vainqueur traversé l'Achéron:
Modulant tour à tour sur la lyre d'Orphée
Les soupirs de la sainte et les cris de la fée.

Gérard de Nerval


**********************************************************


La Mort des amants

Nous aurons des lits pleins d'odeurs légères,
Des divans profonds comme des tombeaux,
Et d'étranges fleurs sur des étagères,
Écloses pour nous sous des cieux plus beaux.


Usant à l'envi leurs chaleurs dernières,
Nos deux coeurs seront deux vastes flambeaux,
Qui réfléchiront leurs doubles lumières
Dans nos deux esprits, ces miroirs jumeaux.


Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique,
Nous échangerons un éclair unique,
Comme un long sanglot, tout chargé d'adieux;


Et plus tard un ange, entr'ouvrant les portes,
Viendra ranimer, fidèle et joyeux,
Les miroirs ternis et les flammes mortes.

Charles Baudelaire

**********************************************************

Ghost House

 
I Dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me--
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had. 

Robert Frost
**********************************************************


In a Disused Graveyard

 
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
"The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay."
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.

Robert Frost

**********************************************************

My November Guest
 
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

  Robert Frost

**********************************************************

A Late Walk

 
When I got up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth,
By pickign the faded blue
Of the las remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

Robert Frost

Posted on: October 23, 2006, 06:23:23 PM

---

EL INFIERNO

El bien irreparable que me hizo tu belleza
y la felicidad que se llevó tu piel
son como dos avispas que tengo en la cabeza
poniendo azufre donde conservaba tu miel.

¡Cambió tanto la cena! Botijas de tristeza
en vez de vasos de alba tiene hoy este mantel
y aquel fervor, espero esta noche a que cueza
para servirme un plato de lo que queda: yel.

Rara la mesa está: La miro con asombro,
como y bebo extrañeza y horror y absurdo y pena.
Se acabó todo aquel milagro alimenticio

tras un postre espantoso me levanto y te nombro
que es el último trago de dolor de esta cena,
y voy solo a la cama como quien va al suplicio


Felix Grande


Geeezzz....talk about being tired of his wife, huh?  *giggles* ;D :D


**********************************************************



Thinking

Thinking. Can't stop thinking.
Think of you. This. That. That weekend. That day.
That dream was mine.
A utopian dream.

Your energy; struck me like lightning to a tree.
Pointy, like a star, you shone.
So bright, yet not shining as a star would,
But as apparent as white chalk on a blackboard.
You would not show off like a star.
Yet you did burn so hot, so fiercely, so explosively -
you were a star in my eyes.

But like all stars, you are dying.
That energy is disappearing
No pull between us.
The atmosphere is drying
and I'm beginning to choke.
I have been taken from my star - like a child being taken from its poor,
drunken mother - I do not know what is happening.
Dazed. Confused. Without true reality, I there sit.
Wondering.

The end of my world has only just begun, with yours beginning. 

by Sarah Healy

**********************************************************

I know


I know you like me.
So, tell me.

I know you want me.
So, say it.

I know you care for me.
So, tell it.

I know you love me.
So, show it.

I know you want to.
So, ask me.

I know you can
So... why don't you? ;)


by Sharan  Polk

Tinkerbell, you must read a LOT of poetry chica!

Cindi

Yes, I love poetry and have tons of books :).  Cindi, you may have heard of Pablo Neruda; one of the most famous Spanish poets; he was from Chile. ;) ;) ;)



Bird
   

  It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

Pablo Neruda

**********************************************************




tinkerbell :icon_chick:




Posted on: October 23, 2006, 11:39:23 PM

---

With You
   

  My body was aching and screaming for real feelings,
As I wanted to feel the exploding sensation of being in love again,
As if my dying body was getting a faint grasp on being alive,
And had just recalled how great it felt to be living.

And I suddenly remembered how beautiful things looked,
When the feeling of being in love was present.

I was craving to submerge myself in those waves again,
When life seemed to be either one thing or another,
Dead or very much alive.
The feeling of exasperation for having each minute of it,
As if life was just hanging by a thin thread.

I wanted to feel that immense pressure of joy,
Emanating from the inside, making my heart beat so fast,
As if it could explode any moment.
I wanted to drown in emotions and suffocate from the exhilaration,
Loving, loving, and being loved, instead.

I needed to feel connected all anew,
I needed to feel one with that other again,
I needed to breathe the air through his lungs,
And feel the feelings through his heart.

I longed to melt into his chest,
And be integrated into his bosom,
Become one, as a whole and complete.
Wanting to feel that fever again,
And believe that I would die by it...

Banig Croix




Posted on: October 24, 2006, 12:34:45 AM

---

**********************************************************


City That Does Not Sleep   


In the sky there is nobody asleep.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
            street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
            stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream.  Careful!  Careful!  Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
            dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists.  Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
            eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful!  Be careful!  Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
            of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
            are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.  No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
            night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.



by Federico García Lorca
Translated by Robert Bly

**********************************************************



Posted on: October 24, 2006, 06:37:13 PM

---

*********************************************************

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.


Mary Oliver

**********************************************************
The poem talks about a different kind of transition, but the feelings are exactly the same as those of ours, isn't that right, Kitties?


Transition
   

  Too long and quickly have I lived to vow
The woe that stretches me shall never wane,
Too often seen the end of endless pain
To swear that peace no more shall cool my brow.
I know, I know- again the shriveled bough
Will burgeon sweetly in the gentle rain,
And these hard lands be quivering with grain-
I tell you only: it is Winter now.

What if I know, before the Summer goes
Where dwelt this bitter frenzy shall be rest?
What is it now, that June shall surely bring
New promise, with the swallow and the rose?
My heart is water, that I first must breast
The terrible, slow loveliness of Spring.

Dorothy Parker


**********************************************************

What it is to be Me



It was the essence of me

The blooming flower of summer night

Locked in a cage of dreamless sleep

A smile that could light a starless night

I sat in the dark, lit as a starry sky

The world seemed to sleep beneath my feet



Silence shook me awake

I ran, consumed by demons

My wounded heart pulsed emptiness and loneliness

I quieted my screaming nerves

The monster pounded on my door

Trembling in the shadow of fear and remorse,

I laid down for the demon



I slipped away towards the underworld of dementia

I felt like a meteorite tumbling through space,

Tugged by gravity towards certain doom

It felt like prison, without the comfort of bars

Shake me from the devil's deep slumber embrace

Free me from dreams of yesterday

There, in the darkness, I found myself

It was an ever-present shade, dimming my sparkle



I touched down into the darkness, disturbed the silenced moment

Then fantasy dissolved and slammed me back down to earth

Mesmerized by the come and go,

The sad drift and flow

Of lives in painful transition,

I sat,

Waiting for an ending



The monster will forever speak to me





By Alexa Keller

Quote from: PoemThe monster will forever speak to me

He does talk to me everyday, but over the years I have found out that he is not a monster as I once thought; he is in fact a very nice entity, and his name is "Burum Burum"... :)

*********************************************************

Tears Out of Tears


That one tear

Dripping out of my eye

Running down my face

That single tear

Coming out of unbearable pain

Representing indescribable torture

That first tear

And all those tears that follow

Showing off the tear in my stability

And the tear in my life

Displaying the tear in my heart

And the tears in my soul.

unknown author












Posted on: October 25, 2006, 03:06:30 AM

---

.....Oh yeah...they always come back.  Like the song says "siempre vuelven al lugar donde los amaron, siempre vuelven al lugar por tu querer"....*giggles*

Encore....tu es returne!!!!! bienvenue!

Pour toi:


A Man Who Disappeared and Came Back Again
   

  It was a man who disappeared and came back again;
somewhere in a dream, blinded by obscurity.
A man who walked in, sat down, throwing his white coat
to the ground as the elves shook below the seat cushions.
A man who was too busy to share more of his time with me;
This man, I knew, but did not know
And so I came to be: alone, walking, and looking for other eyes.
Not thinking much, doing crazy stuff,
traveling where I shouldn't have,
seeing the wrong eyes, kissing the wrong lips,
loving the wrong man,

And now you are back?, calling in the night!
with tears in your eyes,
crying that she is gone,
and that you need to talk?

Am I supposed to wipe your tears?
tell you that she will come back?
or is it
something else you expect?

Tell me because
I do not know anymore,
and of course
we will talk.. :)

author unknown


J'espère que je n'ai pas été trop impoli avec mon poème. J'aime te parler. Merci! je l'apprécie!  beaucoup de baisers :D ;D ;) ;) R.




Posted on: October 25, 2006, 03:38:42 AM

---

POETRY


And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.


Pablo Neruda

**********************************************************

CLENCHED SOUL


We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

Pablo Neruda

**********************************************************

SADDEST POEM


I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too.

On nights like this,  he held me in his arms.
I kissed him so many times under the infinite sky.

He loved me, sometimes I loved him.
How could I not have loved his large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have him. To feel that I've lost him.

To hear the immense night, more immense without him.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep him.
The night is full of stars and he is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without him.

As if to bring him near, my eyes search for him.
My heart searches for him and he is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love him, true, but how much I loved him.
My voice searched the wind to touch his ear.

Someone else's. He will be someone else's. As he once
belonged to my kisses.
His voice, his body. His infinite eyes.

I no longer love him, true, but perhaps I love him.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this he held me in his arms,
my soul is lost without him.

Although this may be the last pain he causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for him.


Pablo Neruda

It takes love lost to create a true poet.

Cindi

Quote from: Cindianna_Jones on October 25, 2006, 07:20:36 PM
It takes love lost to create a true poet.

Cindi

Yes it does.  Tonight I've become a true poet,  my angel in disguise.   Love ya!

tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 25, 2006, 07:23:37 PM

---

Waiting 

Afield at dusk

What things for dream there are when specter-like,
Moving amond tall haycocks lightly piled,
I enter alone upon the stubbled filed,
From which the laborers' voices late have died,
And in the antiphony of afterglow
And rising full moon, sit me down
Upon the full moon's side of the first haycock
And lose myself amid so many alike.

I dream upon the opposing lights of the hour,
Preventing shadow until the moon prevail;
I dream upon the nighthawks peopling heaven,
Or plunging headlong with fierce twang afar;
And on the bat's mute antics, who would seem
Dimly to have made out my secret place,
Only to lose it when he pirouettes,
On the last swallow's sweep; and on the rasp
In the abyss of odor and rustle at my back,
That, silenced by my advent, finds once more,
After an interval, his instrument,
And tries once--twice--and thrice if I be there;
And on the worn book of old-golden song
I brought not here to read, it seems, but hold
And freshen in this air of withering sweetness;
But on the memor of one absent, most,
For whom these lines when they shall greet her eye.

Robert Frost

**********************************************************
The Negro Mother 

Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face -- dark as the night -- 
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave -- 
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me -- 
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast -- the Negro mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow -- 
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life -- 
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs -- 
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.


Langston Hughes

**********************************************************

On the Beach at Night 

1
ON the beach, at night,
Stands a child, with her father,
Watching the east, the autumn sky.
 
Up through the darkness,
While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,
Lower, sullen and fast, athwart and down the sky,
Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,
Ascends, large and calm, the lord-star Jupiter;
And nigh at hand, only a very little above,
Swim the delicate brothers, the Pleiades.
 
2
From the beach, the child, holding the hand of her father,
Those burial-clouds that lower, victorious, soon to devour all,
Watching, silently weeps.
 
Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,
With these kisses let me remove your tears;
The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,
They shall not long possess the sky—shall devour the stars only in apparition:
Jupiter shall emerge—be patient—watch again another night—the Pleiades
    shall
   emerge,
They are immortal—all those stars, both silvery and golden, shall shine out again,
The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again—they endure;
The vast immortal suns, and the long-enduring pensive moons, shall again shine.
 
3
Then, dearest child, mournest thou only for Jupiter?
Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?
 
Something there is,
(With my lips soothing thee, adding, I whisper,
I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)
Something there is more immortal even than the stars,
(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)
Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter,
Longer than sun, or any revolving satellite,
Or the radiant brothers, the Pleiades.

Walt Whitman

**********************************************************

a pretty a day 

a pretty a day
(and every fades)
is here and away
(but born are maids
to flower an hour
in all,all)

o yes to flower
until so blithe
a doer a wooer
some limber and lithe
some very fine mower
a tall;tall

some jerry so very
(and nellie and fan)
some handsomest harry
(and sally and nan
they tremble and cower
so pale:pale)

for betty was born
to never say nay
but lucy could learn
and lily could pray
and fewer were shyer
than doll.  doll


e.e. cummings

**********************************************************

There is another sky 

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


Emily Dickinson


Oh...she is sooooo right....after the big storm, the sun rises again...and of course...there is always another sky  :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P




Posted on: October 25, 2006, 09:22:57 PM

---

Dolphin's Cry

If I were a dolphin and you were the sea
How would I get to be with you?
Trapped in this land alone and tired
Can't get out from the horrid treachery
Swimming along night and day
Waiting for the time to pass me by
Somebody save me and let me go
Somebody please don't let me die.

author unknown


Hmmmmm...interesting poem...well it is obvious that the dolphin is kind of limited, being in land and tired, and totally disappointed, but the ocean is vast, the ocean is powerful, the ocean has enough water to sink the entire planet.....and...well .....you get the picture, don't you???... ::) ::) :P
Posted on: October 26, 2006, 02:46:35 AM

---

Always for the first time

Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window
A wholly imaginary house
It is there that from one second to the next
In the inviolate darkness
I anticipate once more the fascinating rift occuring
The one and only rift
In the facade and in my heart
The closer I come to you
In reality
The more the key sings at the door of the unknown room
Where you appear alone before me
At first you coalesce entierly with the brightness
The elusive angle of a curtain
It's a field of jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of Grasse
With the diagonal slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised
In a frenzy all the flowers swarm back in
It is you at grips with that too long hour never dim enough until sleep
You as though you could be
The same except that I shall perhaps never meet you
You pretend not to know I am watching you
Marvelously I am no longer sure you know
You idleness brings tears to my eyes
A swarm of interpretations surrounds each of your gestures
It's a honeydew hunt
There are rocking chairs on a deck there are branches that may well scratch you in the forest
There are in a shop window in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette
Two lovely crossed legs caught in long stockings
Flaring out in the center of a great white clover
There is a silken ladder rolled out over the ivy
There is
By my leaning over the precipice
Of your presence and your absense in hopeless fusion
My finding the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time


Andre Breton


**********************************************************


When You Are Old


When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And his his face amid a crowd of stars.

W. B. Yeats

**********************************************************



The Eclipse

I stood out in the open cold
To see the essence of the eclipse
Which was its perfect darkness.

I stood in the cold on the porch
And could not think of anything so perfect
As mans hope of light in the face of darkness.


Richard Eberhart

**********************************************************

The Heaven of Animals

Here they are. The soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood.
If they have lived on plains
It is grass rolling
Under their feet forever.

Having no souls, they have come,
Anyway, beyond their knowing.
Their instincts wholly bloom
And they rise.
The soft eyes open.

To match them, the landscape flowers,
Outdoing, desperately
Outdoing what is required:
Thr richest wood,
The deepest field.

For some of these,
It could not be the place
It is, without blood.
These hunt, as they have done
But with claws and teeth grown perfect,

More deadly than they can believe.
They stalk more silently,
And crouch on the limbs of trees,
And their descent
Upon the bright backs of their prey

May take years
In a sovereign floating of joy.
And those that are hunted
Know this as their life,
Their reward: to walk

Under such trees in full knowledge
Of what is in glory above them,
And to feel no fear,
But acceptance, compliance.
Fulfilling themselves without pain

At the cycles center,
They tremble, they walk
Under the tree,
They fall, they are torm,
They rise, they walk again.


James Dickey

**********************************************************


Funeral Blues


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


W. H. Auden

**********************************************************


Keeping Things Whole

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.


Mark Strand

**********************************************************

Time does not bring relief

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.


Edna St Vincent Millay












Posted on: October 26, 2006, 05:51:05 PM

---

The Rainbow Bridge 

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always food and water and warm spring weather. The old and frail animals are young again. Those who are maimed are made whole again. They play all day with each other.

There is only one thing missing. They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth. So, each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up! The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring! And this one suddenly runs from the group!

You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed again and again and again, and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting pet.

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never to be separated.

Author Unknown

**********************************************************


AN ANGEL CALLING CARD 


A feather fell out of the sky
and landed at my feet;
I wasn't sure what it was for
but thought it kind of neat.

I paid no mind and thought no more
Of what just happened here;
I continued on my merry way
my conscience and mind clear.

That day I learned of puppy mills
which breed sickness, death and fear;
How awful are the conditions
that these dogs must live each year.

And only are the lucky ones
that aren't sick or killed;
That will be spared a life of hell
and escape the puppy mill.

It was only then I realized
That the feather was my calling;
It wasn't luck or happenstance
that caused it to be falling.

God had specially summoned me
to help his voiceless ones;
He gave me strength and fed my hope
Now I do what must be done.

I help save lives, find them homes
and keep them safe and free;
Not just once and not just twice
but everyday you see.

I fight the cause in dire hopes
that puppy mills will cease;
But never again and until that day
will rescue angels live in peace.

I now know what an angel is
and how they came to be;
They are those that rescue puppies
from a life of hell and misery.

Every rescue angel
earns its wings by doing right;
In fighting for the puppies
And enduring for their plight.

Only God makes angels
and he does it every day;
He gently calls each one aside
in his special way.

He may send a feather down
and hope they realize;
And if they do they will become
an Angel in God's eyes.

Next time you see a feather,
think long and deep and hard,
It just may be God sending you
An angel calling card


Maria Lelinho

**********************************************************

A DOG'S PRAYER 


Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest--and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

Beth Norman Harris

**********************************************************

I Am Not There

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

Author Unknown

**********************************************************



Only A Dog 

"He left no relatives," they said,
"He didn't have a friend
Who knew about his sorry plight --
Was with him at the end!" . . .
And so they raked the stove fires out,
And closed the old shack door,
For grouchy, crusty old Tom Dare
Would open it no more.

Then each went to his own home-fires,
Forgot the lonely shack,
And not a soul was near to see
An old form stumble back
And crouch, sad-eyed, beside the door,
His bony length stretched flat --
He waited for his master's voice,
His friendly little pat.

Days had been lean for Old Tom Dare,
Not food enough for two --
But Old Tom whispered to his dog,
"I'll share along with you,
Since Jennie went away from us
There's been no one to care --
No one but you to give a thought
For lonely old Tom Dare."

And so the two of them had shared,
If it be feast, or fast,
That morning Rover had a bone --
It was their very last,
And there was nothing left for Tom --
It didn't matter so,
Because he lay upon his bed,
And knew that he must Go.

The careless villagers passed by,
As they were pleasure-bound,
But none of them took time to see
The faithful, hungry hound.
Too tired and true to leave his post,
He stayed there to the End . . .
And folks had said of Old Tom Dare,
"He didn't have a friend!"

The days have passed, but no one stops
Of all that come and go,
Old Rover lies beside the door,
Half-hidden in the snow . . .
I know that Old Tom had a friend,
A loyal friend, because
Today I found Old Rover dead,
The bone between his paws.

author unknown

How sad! :'( :'(.....for us, it has never been the same since Gigi left us either, Antonio and I will remember her with love every day of our lives, and I am sure that she will be waiting for us at the rainbow bridge when we depart...

**********************************************************




















Posted on: October 27, 2006, 01:03:47 AM

---

The Dream Of Lost Love

The dream begins as you open the door,
the wonderful feeling too strong to ignore.
Do you remember? Are you feeling it too?
Are you also wondering what to do?

Not knowing what to say,
please speak first, I pray.
Remembering all the words and lies,
remembering the hurt that never dies.

The words that I dare not utter are flooding me,
the real you is the you that I never did see.
You did lead me on,
do you know that?
You did fool me with your candor
do you remember?

Nothing you said was ever true,
you still don't realize you made me so blue.
How hurtful it is to finally see,
that even now you don't understand me.

author aunknown

**********************************************************

Entrapment

Hopelessly bound
unfettered
by the chains of love's grip
- greatest gift,
fate's cruelest curse.

Wherefore do I weep
at knowing the joy,
the warmth,
at feeling the peace,
the fire.

Wherefore do I weep
unable to complete ,
to be,
unknown the kiss,
the flames.

Wherefore do I weep
at loving not living
seeing not touching
breathing not sharing
holding not loving?

All,
because I, The Fool,
am no more? 

unknown author

**********************************************************

                                               ONE MEMORY

       Everyone has them. Which is the best? Which is the worst? Which one will stay with
       you until the end of time? Will it be the waves crashing on the rocks at the sea? Will
        it be how good the warm sun feels on your face as the winter begins to fade to spring?
        Will it be that Christmas Eve, when you could not sleep, knowing of the joy that will be
         under the tree? Or may it be the first time you really knew you were in love? What is love?

         It could be a bad thing. It might be your worst thing. Some never find it. Ever. It is the
         one thing on this earth that everyone searches for, but very few really find. So what is love?

          A bad memory is when your mother begins to die, right in front of you. There is nothing you
           can do. Your life is now forever changed. That, will play over and over again in your mind.
          You are four years old, you wake to your mothers screams, in the garage you see your father
           slamming her head into the concreate wall. She yells "call the police"! You are too small to
           reach the phone on the wall. Your fifteen. You are the only one that remembers her birthday.
           You spend all the money you have saved on a gift, because you love her, and want to please
           her. She gets mad, and throws it at you. You are devestated. You will not forget this.
           But you will always  love her, for she is your mother. She loves me, but will never understand me.
            Never. Not until the day she died. She was bitter, without the love a man. He cheated. He drank.
                                      But he loved me as I am.

            Mermories are forever. Some we keep hidden, some we share. Some we forget, but they
             are always there, waiting for you to come back. They will find you, some of them.
                                               The good, and the bad. :-\

                                                         Marco

Keep up with the poems Tinkerbell.  I love poetry.  I am struggling right now and need uplifting things.

Sarah L.

Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
   

  Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.

Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.

I come to speak for your dead mouths.

Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.

And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.

And give me silence, give me water, hope.

Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.

Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.

Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.

Speak through my speech, and through my blood.

Pablo Neruda




Posted on: October 27, 2006, 06:44:38 PM

---

Painful memories

Wounds of the words you said
Scraped against my soul,
Only one broken heart,
Left withered within,

A kiss of death,
Hanging from my cheek,
Regretted memories,
Locked for my soul to keep,

Black rose petals,
Scattered on my floor,
I met the loneliness of my grave once again,
When you came to my heart and opened its door.

author unknown

**********************************************************


Posted on: October 27, 2006, 08:47:54 PM

---

My memories


Memories, Memories clouding my head,
I don't want to remember
But, don't want to forget.
What you've done,
What you've said,
Will it matter in the end?

I need something to get me through the day,
Something to keep me till tomorrow,
Something to stop my head,
Something to soothe this sorrow.

Wipe away your tears,
Act like it's okay
But, somehow, you won't forget,
All of my pain you've caused
All of this depression I have felt.

Look at me with
your convincing eyes,
Touch me with your fingers,
So cold,
Kiss me half way
around the cheek
And lie to make me...
Believe you. :'(

author unknown

Posted on: October 27, 2006, 09:05:08 PM

---

I wasn't mistaken after all

Each aching word or news you say
hurts my heart even more
I've recently known
how untrue you were
in all the things you used to say
You still make fun of what I feel, don't you?
you think that you're stabbing me just one inch
a little deeper; but I still feel the same
I don't need to be reminded
of what will happen then or
when I hang around you
I would rather confide
and be honest and true.
Even writing this poem is hard for me
so please don't say it, for I know...
you will always belong to another...

unknown author


Posted on: October 27, 2006, 09:30:37 PM

---

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life, that in me has rest,
As I, undying Life, have power in Thee!.

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thy infinity,
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality.

With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and moon were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou -Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

Thou art NOT real!

Emily Bronte

**************************************************************

**************************************************************


Your Eyes

I see your eyes as I try to hide
No where to go but to look into your eyes
I might have feelings for you
Should I look at your eyes
Tell me what to do
Do you want me to like you
If you don't like me
I won't look into your eyes
Because my heart will sink in your eyes.

by R


**************************************************************

Lies


Lies hurt more
than the truth
why do I live
in self pity
and expect disappointment
more then optimism
or does enjoyment
lead me to new
worlds which I can not
live on
the air is getting
thin and I want to
stay for some time
too bad I can not
live in my dreams
for then utopia would be
reached wouldn't it?

Stanley Naber

**************************************************************


Posted on: October 28, 2006, 12:07:41 AM

---

I know you want me

Oh yes I do know you want me
I have always known
since the first day we met
you have fantasized about me
you have always wanted me

I know you want to know
what I am like
what I taste like
what I sound like
what I feel like

I so know you want me
you want to see me moan
looking deep into your blue eyes
between your arms
and under your body

You will never forget me
for I am the girl you
wanted to have
since the first day
of your existence

I am your past,
your present.
and your future...
We have been 
there before
and I have also
made you happy

You know I am here
when you desire me
when you dream of me
when you want me
when you want to touch me

I will be your
nightmare,
your
dream,
your experience,
your affair,
perhaps not physically
but mentally
you will always want me
and desire to be on me.

Graciela Moulinet

                                      MIND OVER MATTER


                                   Is it possible? Is it True? So they say

                               Can one really have what they want just any old day?

                                What does it take? Power from within? Perhaps

                                      I can look at you and pull you in

                                       Will you stay? Or will you go?

                                   It will depnd on how strong the hold is

                               Thunder rolls and lightening crashes, in that flash

                                                   I am there
         
                                 Marco

TAKE A LOOK


LOOK INTO MY SOUL
TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE
A WOMAN SMOOTHLY LEANING
ON THE SHOULDERS OF THIN AIR
FACING THE ISLE THAT LEADS TO AN IMAGINARY "YOU"
FOR YOU REALLY DON'T EXIST, NOT THE YOU, I THOUGHT, YOU WERE
RUNNING TAKES ME NOWHERE
WHILE LOVE CUTS SHORT ALL DISTANCES
AND PUTS ME INSIDE WHAT IS TO BE
OUR OWN LAND OF DREAMS.

THE SILENT EXPRESSION OF EMOTIONS
TAKES ME DOWN THE LAKE OF STARS
WHERE THE BELIEF OF BEAUTY ARISES
WHENEVER I THINK OF YOU
                 
THE GREAT MOUNTAIN OF GLORY
KNEELS BEFORE YOU
WHILE THE SILVER SIGHT
OF YOUR CROCODILE TEARS
HOLD ALL THE ANSWERS
TO WHAT LOVE REALLY MEANS TO YOU

THE DIFFERENCE OF OUR HEARTS
GESTURE THE HORIZON OF WHAT WE KNOW
AS THE DEEP OCEAN WITHIN A SOUL
AND THE GREAT POWER
OF LONGING LOVING STARS
IN A SHORT DAYTIME OF OUR LONG LIVING LIVES.

UNKNOWN AUTHOR
         


Posted on: October 28, 2006, 06:44:27 PM

---

Life's Two-faced


From the canyons of the city,
To the mountains of your mind,
Your soul lies dreaming,
Innocently sublime.

With a ripping and a tearing
And a teeth shrieking whine,
You're born into reality,
A nightmare divine.

Society's little demons scream
"He's mine, all mine!"
But you smile and walk away
Cause it's just another line
Whispered down dusty trails
In the corridor's of time.

unknown author

**********************************************************

Two-faced time

The infinite of space and time
How much of it is mine?
Can i say love lasts forever
When all the flames come from Haven

As one's love can be
Just like the leaves of a tree
They will fall
And next time fewer will grow

When the sky will break
The earth will shake
All Stars will die
And the waters will cry.

Everything is nothing
Can't we something
As life is sad
So we are dead.

What is written for us
To suffer until we turn to dust
That can not be
For what is this beauty around me.

When was the last time you watched the sky
When did you last say 'Don't cry...'.
Life is not a stereotype
If only you would raise your sword and fight.

If not now then never
Hope is lost forever
Only the brave can forgive
In this world of make-believe.

Everything is lost in time
One day the sun will forget to shine...

author unknown


**********************************************************
Hypocrite in Battle


Hypocrite in battle,
Do your thoughts match your heart?
To think you say you love her..*sighs*
You crave it more than any.
You're a champion in the field.
I see your eyes light up when you see me
You'd kill to have it your way.
The games you play with head and heart
do not match the person I see.


Hypocrite, you stand above them all.
Why cant you see you are better?
To think you say you are in love
You envy it more than you show.

Why not do what you say?
Act what you feel?
Laugh, cry, sing, scream, love
Show me something real.
Show them something real.

unknown author

Posted on: October 28, 2006, 08:13:20 PM

---

I know you from before

I know you think I don't know
who you are or why you're here
I think you are wrong
I know you
I know that smile
that is sometimes real and sometimes fake
I know those eyes
so blue as the sky
they were not always that color though
when you and I met then
I know you

I know you think I don't know
who you are and why you're here
but you are wrong
I know who you are
I know that yesterday was more real than today
I know that after the sun comes the rain

I know you also know me
and now you know I know
who you are and why you're here
I know you are only here
because of me.


unknown author

   
Posted on: October 28, 2006, 08:25:44 PM

---

Man in the Poem 1



The man in the poem practices his art

Balancing on the edge of hell.

He muses with a bottle of flaming angels

Who rouse and persuade him to plant

His words in the soil of eternity.



His imagination is a balloon

That carries him over the jagged mountains

Of love, hate, and piety.

His heart is a mother carrying an infant

And a prayer.

His mind is a father sobered by the wisdom

Of a child's despair.



His voice plays the air.

He makes me wish I

Were in the poem with him.

He makes me love, fear,

Loathe, and want him.



He paints mountains, parts tears,

Sketches stars.  He burns and freezes,

Trembles and stands stone still

On the rim of torment.



The man in the poem is chained

But freer than the idea of freedom.



I have seen him walking

With a letter in his hand.

I wrote that letter to the man in the poem.

If he answers, I will know

I have touched a god.


Unknown author


**************************************************************

A woman's beauty


It's not something you can see
You just have to feel it
And that's how it's suppose to be

If a woman has a beauty
But doesn't have a sweet heart
No matter how hard you try to see
It will be like looking through the dark

Nothing else will matter
As long as it comes from inside
What's the point of a beauty
If it only comes from outside

Have you seen a sweet woman
Who thinks with her mind
One word out of her mouth
She'll pour tears out of your eyes

Even if she doesn't have the best look
Her good manner drives you insane
She'll make you forget everything
Once you get to know her well


unknown author

**************************************************************



Love
   

  What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound,
to separate,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.

What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.

And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
nothing,
beneath your double breast scarcely
raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?

Pablo Neruda

**************************************************************



In My Sky At Twilight
   

  In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

Pablo Neruda


**************************************************************

Fabula de la Sirena y los borrachos


Todos estos señores estaban dentro
cuando ella entró completamente desnuda
ellos habían bebido y comenzaron a escupirla
ella no entendía nada recién salía del rio
era una sirena que se había extraviado
los insultos corrían sobre su carne lisa
la inmundicia cubrió sus pechos de oro
ella no sabía llorar por eso no lloraba
no sabía vestirse por eso no se vestía
la tatuaron con cigarrillos y con corchos quemados
y reían hasta caer al suelo de la taberna
ella no hablaba porque no sabía hablar
sus ojos eran color de amor distante
sus brazos construídos de topacios gemelos
sus labios se cortaron en la luz del coral
y de pronto salió por esa puerta
apenas entro al rio quedó limpia
relució como una piedra blanca en la lluvia
y sin mirar atrás nadó de nuevo
nadó hacia nunca más hacia morir.

Pablo Neruda

My God, how sad! :'( :'( :'(, I have read this fable a zillion times, and everytime I read it (in Spanish), my soul weeps......how very sad! :( :'(


English Translation

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
   

  All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Pablo Neruda



It doesn't have the same feeling when it is told in English.  Bummer! I wish everyone could "feel" what this fable is able to transmit ..


















Posted on: October 29, 2006, 10:56:10 AM

---

'T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died


'T was just this time last year I died.
I know I heard the corn,
When I was carried by the farms,
It had the tassels on.

I thought how yellow it would look
When Richard went to mill;
And then I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how red apples wedged
The stubble's joints between;
And carts went stooping round the fields
To take the pumpkins in.

I wondered which would miss me least,
And when Thanksgiving came,
If father'd multiply the plates
To make an even sum.

And if my stocking hung too high,
Would it blur the Christmas glee,
That not a Santa Claus could reach
The altitude of me?

But this sort grieved myself, and so
I thought how it would be
When just this time, some perfect year,
Themselves should come to me.

Emily Dickinson

**********************************************************

WE DIED FOR LOVE


Gently ~ hand of God doth rule the waves
tumbling waves respond rolling to and fro.
But you and I will walk on sand no more,
we are going where other lovers go.

Gently ~ hand of God doth rule the land
mighty mountain and the vale below
you and I will travel on the shore
safe and sound, where other lovers go.

The mystic breath of God controls the night
moonshine and the starlight's golden glow
but you and I are deep in love no more
we die ~ as Shakespeare's lovers died
long ago.

The whispering voice of God says  "Follow Me"
to a place above where the lilac grows
then you and I fall in love once more
sailing to a heaven where loving kindness flows.

Joyce Hemsley

**********************************************************

somewhere i have never travelled

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


**********************************************************

Time and Again


TIme and again, however well we know the landscape of love,
and the little church-yard with lamenting names,
and the frightfully silent ravine wherein all the others
end: time and again we go out two together,
under the old trees, lie down again and again
between the flowers, face to face with the sky.


Rainer Maria Rilke

**********************************************************


Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?


Robert Frost




Posted on: October 30, 2006, 12:35:26 AM

---

Oh yes, I was forgetting to thank all of you who find my poems interesting, also a big thanks to all the ones who lurk in here to enjoy the magic of poetry or is it something else that brings you here  ???? ....I always know when you are here, for I am always watching you!!!!
:icon_evil_laugh:  :icon_evil_laugh:

tinkerbell :icon_chick:
Posted on: October 30, 2006, 01:19:07 AM

---

Has My Heart Gone To Sleep?
   

  Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
stopped working, the waterwheel
of the mind run dry,
scoops turning empty,
only shadow inside?

No, my heart is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
Not asleep, not dreaming—
its eyes are opened wide
watching distant signals, listening
on the rim of vast silence.

Antonio Machado


**********************************************************

The Wind, One Brilliant Day
   

  The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.

"In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses."

"I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead."

"Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."

the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?"


Antonio Machado


**********************************************************

The Art of Poetry
   

  To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.

To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness--such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.

Sometimes at evening there's a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.

They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.

Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.

Jorge Luis Borges


**********************************************************

To a Cat
   

  Mirrors are not more silent
nor the creeping dawn more secretive;
in the moonlight, you are that panther
we catch sight of from afar.
By the inexplicable workings of a divine law,
we look for you in vain;
More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun,
yours is the solitude, yours the secret.
Your haunch allows the lingering
caress of my hand. You have accepted,
since that long forgotten past,
the love of the distrustful hand.
You belong to another time. You are lord
of a place bounded like a dream.

Jorge Luis Borges







Posted on: October 30, 2006, 06:37:31 PM

---

Only Words

Let me take you on a journey
from the hopes of a nation
to the spirit of one family.

From Washington addressing the troops at Valley Forge
to my great-grandfather preaching from a North Carolina pulpit:
It's only words.

From Jefferson drafting the Declaration of Independence
to my grandmother writing a poem straight from the heart:
It's only words.

From Kennedy's appeal to a generation of youth ("Ask not")
to an e-mailed message of love that arrives from my mother
at just the right moment:
It's only words.

Ephemeral as the paper on which they're written
(or only passing digital dreams)
words remembered, words forgotten
are drawn from the well of creativity
to inspire unity of purpose —
for a family...or for a nation,
gaining strength by bringing us together,
and becoming, finally, much more than
Only words.


Karen Thompson


Posted on: October 30, 2006, 06:51:54 PM

---

Hypocrisy
 



          A rocky desert stretches far

            To distant mountains, brown and bare.

            A waif, abandoned in the dust,

            Wipes flies out of her matted hair.

            Her threadbare misery we see,

            A poignant vignette on TV,

            So aged beyond her seven years!

            The interviewer swallows tears.



            In her short life she's known no life

But death and war.  Now all alone,

            This dolly never clutched a doll,

            She's never had a loving home.

            A war-embittered TV host

            Asks this poor wretch what she wants most,

            And strains to hear what she has said.

            One plaintive word she whispers: "Bread."



            From half a world away we watch,

            Warm, fat voyeurs in safe, clean homes.

            Our indignation is a sham,

            Decrying pain that's not our own.

            Though we condemn with righteous rage

            Injustice in the modern age,

            Words without deeds shall always be

            Contemptible hypocrisy.



            God damn our nations! damn our flags!

            And damn religion, every creed!

            In pained disgust God turns His back

            On men inured to this child's need.

Whatever pious words we say,

            Our empty words won't wipe away

            The tears of children, forced to dwell

            In our world's bitter, man-made hell.       

Neil Harding McAlister

**********************************************************


Hypocrisy

Body in space, thought in time,
this nagging thought of death in mind,
Open to the world, these eyes yet sleeping,
Hoping for Truth, the heart though weeping.

Lost in the chimera of the Self,
Impounded by time, thinking of the timeless,
Living in death, thinking of Love,
Entrapped in illusions, looking for the Real!

Basking in pity, glorifying the dead,
Bound to the past, knowing will not last,
Why is it so hard, to let oneself flow,
Knowing there is so much, waiting to follow.


unknown author

**********************************************************

Hypocrisy

I wonder sometimes if leaving this place
would make things any better.
When things never seem to go right.
Tears swell in my eyes.
And as we fight things never seem to end.
There is always something new.
Things to talk about.
Gossip to spread.
Malice to share.
Lets check off the agenda of those
who have
no heart.
Of those who look around,
and just don't seem
to care.
We all like to place the blame
on someone other than
ourselves.
It's just so easy to do.
To say it's not me
it's you.
As you watch them
breaking down.
We all become that person sometimes.
The one on the receiving end.
And then we wonder
How could you?
Where is your heart?
Why me?
And we find ourselves
staring in the eyes of our hypocrisy.
While those eyes stare back.
Asking those same questions,
while we think
there's nothing wrong

unknown author


**********************************************************

Life's Qualities

The quality of life is in the mind,
Not in material things.
The world is filled with beauty,
when your heart is filled with love.
So live everyday of your life
as though it were your last.
Cherish yesterday, dream tomorrow,
Live today.

Jessica Kulzer

*******************************************************



       




Posted on: October 30, 2006, 08:13:30 PM

---

Fake people are everywhere; it just reminds me of the movie "the body snatchers"....scary movie, indeed!  "they" would become your parents, your children, your friends, your lover....... :icon_nervious:  so here is a poem.  Enjoy!

The Mask

I wear a thousand faces for everyone to see

there is no one besides myself who knows the real me.

A smile upon my face, never see me frown

Yet deep inside within, my worlds turned upside down.

If only I could show them, the me that's really me

The me that has the demon living secretly.

The face I put to the side, the face I"m so quick to hide.

The face that will show you pain, agony, hurt, and disgust.

The face that will tell you I really don't give a f!*k

The face that will lie to you in order to receive personal gain

The face that can show you what it is to really be in pain

The kind of pain that goes deep, deep within your soul

Never leaving only staying doing what it's told

The sad part is it's part of you a part you can't live without

It's become your saddened existence to always make you doubt.

Doubt yourself, your friends, your family, your coworkers, your feelings, your emotions, your dreams, your nightmares

It controls you now and consumes your inner being day after day after day after day

So you wear "THE MASK" and lie to yourself by saying," Everythings fine, Im ok, Im just a little sad today that's all.

You lying hypocrit you fool pretending to be what you're not only to please what others have built you to be

People can't handle it though...you know the truth? If they really knew what you thought inside that messed up twisted thing you call a mind they would have you committed.

Oh yeah...that's right,  THEY DID!!!!









unknown author
Posted on: October 30, 2006, 09:12:55 PM

---

Gerard, Merci pour ton appel. J'ai eu besoin d'entendre ta voix.   Tu étais toujours la droite et je suis désolée que je ne toi ai pas écouté avant.  Il est un hypocrit et un menteur et un peu fou; Son amie m'a écrit un unpolite email, pouves-tu croire ceci ? elle a posté même un message sous mes forums de poésie,  mais je l'ai effacé  >:D.   Je suis contente qu'il fait partie du passé maintenant. Je suis très désolée que je ne toi ai pas entendu avant, tu étais si la droite.  Merci pour est là-bas pour moi.  Je toi verrai demain ;)


Un poème pour toi avant que je me couche :)


La poésie et l'amour


Un instant peut être une eternité,
quand on est près de l'être aimée,
elle qui nous fait rêver,
et qui est tant aimée ...

Une histoire d'amour,
qui se vie tout les jours,
puisque l'amour est si beau,
et un doux cadeau...

Elle qui nous fait rêver,
chaque jour de notre vie tant aimée,
elle est celle qui a notre coeur,
et qui est un véritable bonheur ...

Une femme qui est amour,
un amour si beau pour toujours,
on aimerait tout offrir à cet amour,
elle est qui là chaque jour ...

Une beauté divine devant nous,
à en devenir tout fou,
elle qui est si belle et à notre coeur,
et qui n'est que du bonheur ...

Pour faire connaître

**********************************************************

I should have listened to you

I should have been careful to whom I chose as a friend,
because this person was a wolf in disguise
ready to pounce and cause harm.

I should have listened to what you told me
I should have listened to my own gut feeling,
but I was blind by the desire to be wanted, and yet
I'm blaming myself endlessly.

I should have known the person in front of me,
but I wanted to believe the good in him.
Maybe I was too naive, stupid to be exact
I've learned my lesson, I'll never forget
And yes, you were right, so right, indeed.

tinkerbell





Posted on: October 30, 2006, 09:52:09 PM

---

The Old Tramp


Believe me, fair lady, I've told you the truth,
    And my presence portends you no harm;
I am weary and sick and would ask but a crusts
    And the privilege to sleep in your barn.
 
I know that I belong to a class that's despised,
    And the shame and disgrace do I feel;
But lady, these hands are unsullied with crime,
    And I never have stooped to steal
 
I sometimes am favored with shelter and food
    For the charitable yet may be found;
But I am often refused, and sometimes abused,
    And 'compelled to sleep out on the ground.
 
Yes, I once had a home and friends that were dear,
    Was happy and proud of my name;
And though I've not borne it for many a year,
    It is one not unknown to fame.
 
There sometimes are reasons we cannot explain,
    There are tales that should never be told,
For sympathy ceases to charm away pain
    When the heart has grown withered and cold.
 
The clothes that I wear, though unseemly and old,
    Is the garb of the Prussian Uhlans,
And foremost and first in the ranks it was seen
    When we charged on the right at Le Mans.
 
I've espoused every cause that I deemed to be right,
    I have often sought death, but in vain;
And whilst others rejoiced that their lives had been
         spared,
    I envied the ones that were slain.
 
Though wretched and ragged, I!m destined to roam,
    My journey's ahead but a span,
For down from the past I have traversed the years
    That God has alloted to man.
 
Thanks, thanks for your bounty and generous words,
    Your kindness I shall not betray,
But offer a prayer for your welfare to-night,
    And when the day dawns steal away.


John Sinclair

**********************************************************

Answers

I keep my answers small and keep them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bulwark to my fear.

The huge abstractions I keep from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.

But the big answers clamoured to be moved
Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.

Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, I still hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow

And all the great conclusions coming near.
 

Elizabeth Jennings



**********************************************************

When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it -- lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew.
And those that were good shall be happy; they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair.
They shall find real saints to draw from -- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only The Master shall praise us, and only The Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!


Rudyard Kipling

:'( :'(
**********************************************************

Hiroshima Child

I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead

I'm only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I'm seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow

My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind

I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead

All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play


Nazim Hikmet


**********************************************************

True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.


Wislawa Szymborska