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Share a Favorite Poem

Started by Ephemera, October 20, 2011, 05:39:51 PM

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TheLegionary

Thank you for explaining! In my mother language, it is always masculine, but it seems to vary a lot from language to language.

Saerrael

I'm not sure what your native tongue is, sorry. Mine is Dutch and I wouldn't have a clue if 'love' is male or female in my native language *grins*
Anyway. Poems are different often and language can be used quite more creative than in regular writing.

TheLegionary

My mother language is Portuguese and the word for LOVE is AMOR. As it starts with an A, it is impossible to qualify it as feminine - it would not sound good even in a poem.

Phil66666

Billy built a guillotine,
Tried it out on sister Jean.
Said mother as she got the mop,
These messy games have got to stop.

SinfulAngel

THE TiGER

By William Blake

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry

Updated Unicorn 1/24/17
      Active stories ~ 5  Post time frame 1-5 days

Grainne

I Would Steal Horses--Sherman Alexie
For Kari

for you, if there were any left,
give a dozen of the best
to your father, the auto mechanic
in the small town where you were born

and where he will die sometime by dark.
I am afraid of his hands, which have
rebuilt more of the small parts
of this world than I ever will.

I would sign treaties for you, take
every promise as the last lie, the last
point after which we both refuse the exact.

I would wrap us both in old blankets
hold every disease tight against our skin.

I loooooove most anything Sherman Alexie writes.

Be the change you wish to see.
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Shadowfox113

Charles Bukowski

Blue Bird

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
"Believe in yourself, and you will survive. Live out the life you design!" FF

On and Offs

Ephemera

Overflowing heavens of squandered stars
flame brilliantly above your troubles.  Instead
of into your pillows, weep up toward them.
There, at the already weeping, at the ending visage,
slowly thinning out, ravishing
worldspace begins . . . Breathe.
Breathe the darkness of the earth and again
look up!  Again.  Lightly and facelessly
depths lean toward you from above.  The serene
countenance dissolved in night makes room for yours.


- Rainer Maria Rilke, April, 1913, Paris
“I bleed myself to be your drink:  Is not the blood of poets—ink?”   ―William Soutar
My Ink Blood Spilled | Who I Am | Where I Am (A/A) | Intro | Avi Source
My Poly/Kink/Random Blogs | My Drawer | My Concupiscence (O/O)
I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.” ~Nin  Working on: Ink Blood Spilled

Grainne

Alright, I've seen Gibran and Rilke and love them both. So, to add to the mystics I have to add one of my favorites.

Love Dogs
Rumi

One night a man was crying Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with praising,
until a cynic said, “So!
I’ve heard you calling our, but have you ever
gotten any response?”

The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.
He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.

“Why did you stop praising?” “Because
I’ve never heard anything back.”

“This longing you express
is the return message.”

The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
to be one of them.

Be the change you wish to see.
------------------------------------------------