"hermon" poems
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained “the power of words”—denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables—
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit “dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,”—
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has “the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures,”)
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee,
I cannot write—I cannot speak or think—
Alas, I cannot feel; for ’tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates—thee only!
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**
Your two ******* are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle,
that feed among the lilies.
Until the day breathes
and the shadows flee,
I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh.
and the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful my love,
there is no flaw in you
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride;
Come with me from Lebanon,
Depart from the peak of Amana.
from the peak of Senir and Hermon
from the dens of lions,
from the mountains of leopards.
**
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
I know it isn't ordinary
Aware it's not necessary
Not a typical routine
And something you may have never seen.
But today is my birthday
Something I do dare to share
Because I remember it well
I am not sure where I was born
Was it in Texas ? Was it Vermont?
Was I raised in Brooklyn County? Or maybe another country
But for sure I remember it well
The street where I lived was amused
Or was it the street of Hermon?
*** I am a little confused
Where I lived after I was born
But I remember it well.
I exchanged messages with *** the newsy,
Amalia and Dalia, Gallia and Talia
And Peter and Teddy, and Geter and Freddy
I met friends all over.
A poet, a lawyer, nice pictures, and posters
Young friends, sweet babies and also proud mothers
I remember it well
So Happy Birthday to me,
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
(Extrait)
Aigles qui passez sur nos têtes,
Allez dire aux vents déchaînés
Que nous défions leurs tempêtes
Avec nos mâts enracinés.
Qu'ils montent, ces tyrans de l'onde,
Que leur aile s'ameute et gronde
Pour assaillir nos bras nerveux !
Allons ! leurs plus fougueux vertiges
Ne feront que bercer nos tiges
Et que siffler dans nos cheveux !
Fils du rocher, nés de nous-même,
Sa main divine nous planta ;
Nous sommes le vert diadème
Qu'aux sommets d'Éden il jeta.
Quand ondoiera l'eau du déluge,
Nos flancs creux seront le refuge
De la race entière d'Adam,
Et les enfants du patriarche
Dans nos bois tailleront l'arche
Du Dieu nomade d'Abraham !
C'est nous quand les tribus captives
Auront vu les hauteurs d'Hermon,
Qui couvrirons de nos solives
L'arche immense de Salomon ;
Si, plus **** un Verbe fait homme
D'un nom plus saint adore et nomme
Son père du haut d'une croix,
Autels de ce grand sacrifice,
De l'instrument de son supplice
Nos rameaux fourniront le bois.
En mémoire de ces prodiges,
Des hommes inclinant leurs fronts
Viendront adorer nos vestiges,
Coller leurs lèvres à nos troncs.
Les saints, les poètes, les sages
Ecouteront dans nos feuillages
Des bruits pareils aux grandes eaux,
Et sous nos ombres prophétiques
Formeront leurs plus beaux cantiques
Des murmures de nos rameaux.
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He is King,
of The ******* of the World,
Hermon
His palace
sits nobly on Klatt Road,
a trailer
He is a husband of one,
a father of two,
and a lover of three
One is a Tabby, fierce
Two is a bottle, undeniable
Three is a snort, a quick fix
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC