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"tremulous" poems
*i always imagine you so very graceful through the masochists ordeal a god form of supplication seeing your face in love fascinated by shimmering kisses that hurt, yet please wet lips and sharp teeth   glamors that excite cold blade licks dragged across tender bellies naval buttocks and flexed toes stinging then radiating outwards wounds become lilies mouth ******* tremulous weeping kisses ecstatic cruelties blood glitter sacrifice your supplication love pangs i'm shaking apart over you your countenance a cascading dream moved to tears of adoration your  limitless yielding like surrenders caress an infinite communion with fragile limbs silky wrapped spools innerness of desire veiled in a shroud a faltering star that glistens crimson nymph of purgation ash volcanic cells en-flamed with tongues that bite subsumed in scented vapors a confection of **** and *** waves embrace ineffable shores passed the discontinuity of life   I have the most immense feeling of love for you am i not the saint death   quietly following you through life's labyrinth innocuous   waiting humbly in the wings i am all ache for you a vice of kisses a brief encounter that eats your sight and senses ushering you to immortal freedom a swooning garland of fire that enlivens the body electric a mist of molecules your tears intoxicate i am new life with in you budding embryo that consumes its mother for nourishment and saturates like dew drops   as it echoes through oblivion*
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
zebrablack
Echoes of Oblivion
*i always imagine you so very graceful through the masochists ordeal a god form of supplication seeing your face in love fascinated by shimmering kisses that hurt, yet please wet lips and sharp teeth   glamors that excite cold blade licks dragged across tender bellies naval buttocks and flexed toes stinging then radiating outwards wounds become lilies mouth ******* tremulous weeping kisses ecstatic cruelties blood glitter sacrifice your supplication love pangs i'm shaking apart over you your countenance a cascading dream moved to tears of adoration your  limitless yielding like surrenders caress an infinite communion with fragile limbs silky wrapped spools innerness of desire veiled in a shroud a faltering star that glistens crimson nymph of purgation ash volcanic cells en-flamed with tongues that bite subsumed in scented vapors a confection of **** and *** waves embrace ineffable shores passed the discontinuity of life   I have the most immense feeling of love for you am i not the saint death   quietly following you through life's labyrinth innocuous   waiting humbly in the wings i am all ache for you a vice of kisses a brief encounter that eats your sight and senses ushering you to immortal freedom a swooning garland of fire that enlivens the body electric a mist of molecules your tears intoxicate i am new life with in you budding embryo that consumes its mother for nourishment and saturates like dew drops   as it echoes through oblivion*
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63
it was a dark dance of an immovable body as she was taken by the throat, death, causing stupendous distortions and entrancements of lunar landscapes she reeled pirouettes between smothering and seeing through a miraculous inner eye deepening her sense of nothingness as if pickled in a jar,  suspended in formaldehyde held buoyant where there is no reason for anything moveless in a veiled corridor inhabiting innerness, a raven fog her ******* wet with the scent of fear and *** she fell through the earth into the infernal arms of Hades his tremulous kisses a thousand glittering eyes she could see through
0
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
zebrablack
Persephone
it was a dark dance of an immovable body as she was taken by the throat, death, causing stupendous distortions and entrancements of lunar landscapes she reeled pirouettes between smothering and seeing through a miraculous inner eye deepening her sense of nothingness as if pickled in a jar,  suspended in formaldehyde held buoyant where there is no reason for anything moveless in a veiled corridor inhabiting innerness, a raven fog her ******* wet with the scent of fear and *** she fell through the earth into the infernal arms of Hades his tremulous kisses a thousand glittering eyes she could see through
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21
Some day, if you are lucky, you’ll return from a thunderous journey trailing snake scales, wing fragments and the musk of Earth and moon. Eyes will examine you for signs of damage, or change and you, too, will wonder if your skin shows traces of fur, or leaves, if thrushes have built a nest of your hair, if Andromeda burns from your eyes. Do not be surprised by prickly questions from those who barely inhabit their own fleeting lives, who barely taste their own possibility, who barely dream. If your hands are empty, treasureless, if your toes have not grown claws, if your obedient voice has not become a wild cry, a howl, you will reassure them. We warned you, they might declare, there is nothing else, no point, no meaning, no mystery at all, just this frantic waiting to die. And yet, they tremble, mute, afraid you’ve returned without sweet elixir for unspeakable thirst, without a fluent dance or holy language to teach them, without a compass bearing to a forgotten border where no one crosses without weeping for the terrible beauty of galaxies and granite and bone. They tremble, hoping your lips hold a secret, that the song your body now sings will redeem them, yet they fear your secret is dangerous, shattering, and once it flies from your astonished mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate before unfolding tremulous wings.
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
hrtsonfyr
The return by Geneen Marie Haugen
Some day, if you are lucky, you’ll return from a thunderous journey trailing snake scales, wing fragments and the musk of Earth and moon. Eyes will examine you for signs of damage, or change and you, too, will wonder if your skin shows traces of fur, or leaves, if thrushes have built a nest of your hair, if Andromeda burns from your eyes. Do not be surprised by prickly questions from those who barely inhabit their own fleeting lives, who barely taste their own possibility, who barely dream. If your hands are empty, treasureless, if your toes have not grown claws, if your obedient voice has not become a wild cry, a howl, you will reassure them. We warned you, they might declare, there is nothing else, no point, no meaning, no mystery at all, just this frantic waiting to die. And yet, they tremble, mute, afraid you’ve returned without sweet elixir for unspeakable thirst, without a fluent dance or holy language to teach them, without a compass bearing to a forgotten border where no one crosses without weeping for the terrible beauty of galaxies and granite and bone. They tremble, hoping your lips hold a secret, that the song your body now sings will redeem them, yet they fear your secret is dangerous, shattering, and once it flies from your astonished mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate before unfolding tremulous wings.
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40
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.
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19.4k
Sylvia Plath
Medusa
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.
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43
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers    I was small then    She had a parakeet that landed on my head    and a bathtub too    with water so deep!    and legs and claws!    **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs! She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks    where bugs hung-out in the haze    of teenage August    I played in the tall weeds    with a shoeless Italian boy    who ate tomatoes like apples    and cucumbers right off the vine!    He was ***** free and foreign!    We played— reckless, abandoned    behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn       and through the endless fields    I didn’t know....    His name was Tony    I ate pizza with him—the first time At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight    but I could watch night flowers    bloom on wallpaper    She came in to say good night    slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open    and I peeped her *******    like Tony’s cucumbers!    I had never seen my mother’s wonders.... Night spread its wings from the old fan—    a bird of tireless exhaustion    whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage    tireless exhaustion    tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock    stretched out on the whine    of the overland trucks    Route Five through the night of an open window In the grape arbor below— tremulous incessant    crickets    crickets    crickets tremulous incessant—insides of a child    a summer child    not yet ready for the fall of answers Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen    I followed her everywhere I could    I was small then--        do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit I followed Maureen through my dreams    of being sixteen    and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”    while she tied her sneakers    against the mattress by my head I followed Maureen (in my mind)    tanned and bandanned    to work in the fields of shade tobacco    with all those Puerto Rican boys!    She knew where she was going! I was small then ...do anything for a stick of  gum “Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”    ...through the goldenrod of roadside    through the smell of oil that damped the dust     I followed Maureen’s white shorts    and chestnut hair...to the corner store I followed the way the boys smiled    the way the screen door slammed    on her bright behind    the way her lips taunted and took    the coke-bottle’s green I followed Maureen I swear, I tried for hours to get that right! Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever” Maureen ties her sneakers in my face Flaunts her years above my head She has that look— “We kids don’t know nothin” (Little turds” that we be) …followin’ Maureen through the goldenrod of roadside tic-tockin’, beboppin’ “Fever— in the morning Fever all through the night….”
0
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
elizabeth-balise
I Follow Maureen
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers    I was small then    She had a parakeet that landed on my head    and a bathtub too    with water so deep!    and legs and claws!    **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs! She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks    where bugs hung-out in the haze    of teenage August    I played in the tall weeds    with a shoeless Italian boy    who ate tomatoes like apples    and cucumbers right off the vine!    He was ***** free and foreign!    We played— reckless, abandoned    behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn       and through the endless fields    I didn’t know....    His name was Tony    I ate pizza with him—the first time At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight    but I could watch night flowers    bloom on wallpaper    She came in to say good night    slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open    and I peeped her *******    like Tony’s cucumbers!    I had never seen my mother’s wonders.... Night spread its wings from the old fan—    a bird of tireless exhaustion    whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage    tireless exhaustion    tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock    stretched out on the whine    of the overland trucks    Route Five through the night of an open window In the grape arbor below— tremulous incessant    crickets    crickets    crickets tremulous incessant—insides of a child    a summer child    not yet ready for the fall of answers Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen    I followed her everywhere I could    I was small then--        do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit I followed Maureen through my dreams    of being sixteen    and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”    while she tied her sneakers    against the mattress by my head I followed Maureen (in my mind)    tanned and bandanned    to work in the fields of shade tobacco    with all those Puerto Rican boys!    She knew where she was going! I was small then ...do anything for a stick of  gum “Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”    ...through the goldenrod of roadside    through the smell of oil that damped the dust     I followed Maureen’s white shorts    and chestnut hair...to the corner store I followed the way the boys smiled    the way the screen door slammed    on her bright behind    the way her lips taunted and took    the coke-bottle’s green I followed Maureen I swear, I tried for hours to get that right! Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever” Maureen ties her sneakers in my face Flaunts her years above my head She has that look— “We kids don’t know nothin” (Little turds” that we be) …followin’ Maureen through the goldenrod of roadside tic-tockin’, beboppin’ “Fever— in the morning Fever all through the night….”
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82
436 The Wind—tapped like a tired Man— And like a Host—”Come in” I boldly answered—entered then My Residence within A Rapid—footless Guest— To offer whom a Chair Were as impossible as hand A Sofa to the Air— No Bone had He to bind Him— His Speech was like the Push Of numerous Humming Birds at once From a superior Bush— His Countenance—a Billow— His Fingers, as He passed Let go a music—as of tunes Blown tremulous in Glass— He visited—still flitting— Then like a timid Man Again, He tapped—’twas flurriedly— And I became alone—
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17k
Emily Dickinson
The Wind—tapped like a tired Man
436 The Wind—tapped like a tired Man— And like a Host—”Come in” I boldly answered—entered then My Residence within A Rapid—footless Guest— To offer whom a Chair Were as impossible as hand A Sofa to the Air— No Bone had He to bind Him— His Speech was like the Push Of numerous Humming Birds at once From a superior Bush— His Countenance—a Billow— His Fingers, as He passed Let go a music—as of tunes Blown tremulous in Glass— He visited—still flitting— Then like a timid Man Again, He tapped—’twas flurriedly— And I became alone—
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21
there is a moon sole in the blue night amorous of waters tremulous, blinded with silence the undulous heaven yearns where in tense starlessness anoint with ardor the yellow lover stands in the dumb dark svelte and urgent (again love i slowly gather of thy languorous mouth the thrilling flower)
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15.2k
E. E. Cummings
There Is A
there is a moon sole in the blue night amorous of waters tremulous, blinded with silence the undulous heaven yearns where in tense starlessness anoint with ardor the yellow lover stands in the dumb dark svelte and urgent (again love i slowly gather of thy languorous mouth the thrilling flower)
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21
I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the secret night, And feel my arms about you when The day comes fluttering back again. I think, no matter where you be, You'll hold me in your memory And keep my image, there without me, By telling later loves about me.
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14k
Dorothy Parker
But Not Forgotten
I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the secret night, And feel my arms about you when The day comes fluttering back again. I think, no matter where you be, You'll hold me in your memory And keep my image, there without me, By telling later loves about me.
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14
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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14.2k
Pablo Neruda
A Song Of Despair
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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58
*"Claim me," she whispers in a plea "claim my soul as I wilt" Crimson lips parted, head thrown back in ecstatic ache jugular bared she needs to feel that sharp -edged love, skin and barriers broken as she melts into the underworld of a new grace a magenta cry into the inky sky sacred silence penetrated as only gasps are heard milky ******* decorated with red liquid ribbon, his nourishment, her demise ******* pierced with beads of her sunset life flow as he ***** and bites... and howling into heaven's delicious gate, she writhes Her soul dissolving into his night and as his spirit absorbs her vermilion soul their power rises, black as coal ……………. your lips stick black   sanguine smile tremulous murmurs oh happy blood blossom of deaths surrender sacrificial lamb cats sparrow entranced thighs on fire sobbing from a thousand needled kisses ******* tearing blood each wound a weeping mouth licking milky white alter of cold stone saturated alizarin rust legs wide feet and ******* trussed in chains and drenched rags for cruelties arrow o crimson queen, pomegranate half eaten mouth smudge black agape snake tongue dancing through cherry lips twisted darkened eyes of fire and blood a wash in devils incense beloved veiled in evils cradle bind not the demons kiss then face down my love upon the crypt of mist black heavens gate pupa vampires bate a blood moon shaking a scourge you are now goddess of pleasures wretched in the Tuileries of the abyss consort your every piercing fang duck tail **** a boiling cauldron desire spills out dark cupid witch legs tied to throat devil ***** twitch ******* in a mote ive got the itch feet scorched in rope hot ******* ***** hells dark pope vampiress ***** dark girl feeding the sun is no more loves the bleeding*
0
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
zebrablack
VAMPIRIC LOVE
*"Claim me," she whispers in a plea "claim my soul as I wilt" Crimson lips parted, head thrown back in ecstatic ache jugular bared she needs to feel that sharp -edged love, skin and barriers broken as she melts into the underworld of a new grace a magenta cry into the inky sky sacred silence penetrated as only gasps are heard milky ******* decorated with red liquid ribbon, his nourishment, her demise ******* pierced with beads of her sunset life flow as he ***** and bites... and howling into heaven's delicious gate, she writhes Her soul dissolving into his night and as his spirit absorbs her vermilion soul their power rises, black as coal ……………. your lips stick black   sanguine smile tremulous murmurs oh happy blood blossom of deaths surrender sacrificial lamb cats sparrow entranced thighs on fire sobbing from a thousand needled kisses ******* tearing blood each wound a weeping mouth licking milky white alter of cold stone saturated alizarin rust legs wide feet and ******* trussed in chains and drenched rags for cruelties arrow o crimson queen, pomegranate half eaten mouth smudge black agape snake tongue dancing through cherry lips twisted darkened eyes of fire and blood a wash in devils incense beloved veiled in evils cradle bind not the demons kiss then face down my love upon the crypt of mist black heavens gate pupa vampires bate a blood moon shaking a scourge you are now goddess of pleasures wretched in the Tuileries of the abyss consort your every piercing fang duck tail **** a boiling cauldron desire spills out dark cupid witch legs tied to throat devil ***** twitch ******* in a mote ive got the itch feet scorched in rope hot ******* ***** hells dark pope vampiress ***** dark girl feeding the sun is no more loves the bleeding*
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88
i come to you half mad with desire like slithers tongue i wish to have painfully stitched to your silky **** an act of desires supplication my *** turned to poison deprivations effulgent obsidian flower salivating your every smile fleshy bells ringing warping tintinnabulations i am a starved incubus drooling at your knees behind me a frothy junket of misdeeds for loves sake your feet the scent of lavender and salt their shape evoking numberless poems and begging adorations your belly a tender cauldron undulating tummy ***** dancer sacred ********** temple of worship the site of your rounded bottom naked red mouth calling my sacred liturgy your ***** velvet tulips for a tremulous kiss I seed you a thousand times a raging bludgeon storming wounded gates Palisades drenched and florid fruit and milk **** until jaws lock and spire drops turning me to midnight cadaver ***** black hollows a dark eyelid, blink-less dead **** face down a slumped snake then soft dew and cool ales clear thickened muds saturation lighten heat and peel the warm palate with agile caress tender haunches wide and spiced milk and butter thighs her hair in mine rushing river life again i animate an embryo id dressed in fire all vices and virtues blood and sky
0
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
zebrablack
*** DEATH AND RESURRECTION
i come to you half mad with desire like slithers tongue i wish to have painfully stitched to your silky **** an act of desires supplication my *** turned to poison deprivations effulgent obsidian flower salivating your every smile fleshy bells ringing warping tintinnabulations i am a starved incubus drooling at your knees behind me a frothy junket of misdeeds for loves sake your feet the scent of lavender and salt their shape evoking numberless poems and begging adorations your belly a tender cauldron undulating tummy ***** dancer sacred ********** temple of worship the site of your rounded bottom naked red mouth calling my sacred liturgy your ***** velvet tulips for a tremulous kiss I seed you a thousand times a raging bludgeon storming wounded gates Palisades drenched and florid fruit and milk **** until jaws lock and spire drops turning me to midnight cadaver ***** black hollows a dark eyelid, blink-less dead **** face down a slumped snake then soft dew and cool ales clear thickened muds saturation lighten heat and peel the warm palate with agile caress tender haunches wide and spiced milk and butter thighs her hair in mine rushing river life again i animate an embryo id dressed in fire all vices and virtues blood and sky
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59
Her scarf a la Bardot, In suede flats for the walk, She came with me one evening For air and friendly talk. We crossed the quiet river, Took the embankment walk. Traffic holding its breath, Sky a tense diaphragm: Dusk hung like a backcloth That shook where a swan swam, Tremulous as a hawk Hanging deadly, calm. A vacuum of need Collapsed each hunting heart But tremulously we held As hawk and prey apart, Preserved classic decorum, Deployed our talk with art. Our Juvenilia Had taught us both to wait, Not to publish feeling And regret it all too late - Mushroom loves already Had puffed and burst in hate. So, chary and excited, As a thrush linked on a hawk, We thrilled to the March twilight With nervous childish talk: Still waters running deep Along the embankment walk.
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8k
Seamus Heaney
Twice Shy
Her scarf a la Bardot, In suede flats for the walk, She came with me one evening For air and friendly talk. We crossed the quiet river, Took the embankment walk. Traffic holding its breath, Sky a tense diaphragm: Dusk hung like a backcloth That shook where a swan swam, Tremulous as a hawk Hanging deadly, calm. A vacuum of need Collapsed each hunting heart But tremulously we held As hawk and prey apart, Preserved classic decorum, Deployed our talk with art. Our Juvenilia Had taught us both to wait, Not to publish feeling And regret it all too late - Mushroom loves already Had puffed and burst in hate. So, chary and excited, As a thrush linked on a hawk, We thrilled to the March twilight With nervous childish talk: Still waters running deep Along the embankment walk.
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30
in a taut black dress you brush by me   you are dark summer fruit simmering hot a sopping estuary   i gather you into me   you cascade like an undulating cat giggles like trembling gelatin cherry kiss lips   agile muscle shifting   pleating like soft furs against my thunderous chest your tremulous tongue rupturing like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven   i inhale your lavender breath   your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping i eat your soul and paradise ******** licking honey rainbows filling my mouth a thousand times   and a thousand more its never enough when some one has your heart suffocate me in your drooling mouth your body is my aviary and hot house of man eating plants i run to your teeth beautiful cleavers gleaming shivering with excitement   from your dragging bites my blood languishing at your feet have no regard for me eat my love   i live to be swallowed by you   i hold you through the night all dire raptures dark in mystic paradise   tangled in your hair may mourning never find us torrid scorched from flames infernal black candles uncrossing pasts devils **** your adoring toy   kisses never ceasing hot weather nostrils steaming your flexed body writhes a royal contortion   your heart cleaving so that i may like a sun   consume your darkest edges bitter chocolate so sweet   to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy my heart aches like a siren of echoes   calling to you   shaking your gates down   you are a titanic gravity   and i'm forever tumbling   like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night it is a steep decent into heavens arms as i crumble all smashing diamonds and hissing flames into open wounds weeping glitter your chin jutting throat stretched while pulling the roots of your hair exposing arteries pulsing stuffing myself on your marrow you plume like a volcanic moon showering me with spooling stars and butter **** kisses ill turn you into my glistening little ***** all swollen tears for more   rituals of adoration kisses like monsoon rains i look up at your supple form your haunches my temple   worshiping you smothered in heavens jaws you cascading pantie-less   in a taut black dress
0
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
zebrablack
IN A TAUT BLACK DRESS
in a taut black dress you brush by me   you are dark summer fruit simmering hot a sopping estuary   i gather you into me   you cascade like an undulating cat giggles like trembling gelatin cherry kiss lips   agile muscle shifting   pleating like soft furs against my thunderous chest your tremulous tongue rupturing like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven   i inhale your lavender breath   your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping i eat your soul and paradise ******** licking honey rainbows filling my mouth a thousand times   and a thousand more its never enough when some one has your heart suffocate me in your drooling mouth your body is my aviary and hot house of man eating plants i run to your teeth beautiful cleavers gleaming shivering with excitement   from your dragging bites my blood languishing at your feet have no regard for me eat my love   i live to be swallowed by you   i hold you through the night all dire raptures dark in mystic paradise   tangled in your hair may mourning never find us torrid scorched from flames infernal black candles uncrossing pasts devils **** your adoring toy   kisses never ceasing hot weather nostrils steaming your flexed body writhes a royal contortion   your heart cleaving so that i may like a sun   consume your darkest edges bitter chocolate so sweet   to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy my heart aches like a siren of echoes   calling to you   shaking your gates down   you are a titanic gravity   and i'm forever tumbling   like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night it is a steep decent into heavens arms as i crumble all smashing diamonds and hissing flames into open wounds weeping glitter your chin jutting throat stretched while pulling the roots of your hair exposing arteries pulsing stuffing myself on your marrow you plume like a volcanic moon showering me with spooling stars and butter **** kisses ill turn you into my glistening little ***** all swollen tears for more   rituals of adoration kisses like monsoon rains i look up at your supple form your haunches my temple   worshiping you smothered in heavens jaws you cascading pantie-less   in a taut black dress
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79
just when the dust settles round my lust and the thud of despair hits bottom just as I flail and swim in this blood-caked,          soulless earth soup of the lost abyss of unbirth   you plunge my wilderness charred with remains from hellfire and we breathe                  halos   our bones lighted sticks, colors rising in angel arcs Your rib cage is open for my tremulous offering as my lips imprint a crimson O upon the earthquake of your chest I am still down with the                            earthworms wrist **** sopped                     by soil arteries, bashed split to the root by verbal hurts in a sliding psyche of oil yet here you are suturing wounds with whiplash kisses saltlick moans in my throat You wrap me in gauze through the imprint of your eyes turn my cuts into fresh brook gaze upon my deepest darkness like goddess worship shrine my **** is a funnel for your whipped light sacrifice ****** prayer skinned to the core all layers exposed your lips slick with the drip of my bliss, deep juice of freshly-caught jungle hum all is bared we stop at nothing paint our tongues with tears adorn the face of death with ripe guava and, as you scream my name into a blown glass whisper my soft fruit falls into the heat of           your palm somewhere in distance a         moon explodes
0
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 11:42 AM UTC
lora-lee
offering
just when the dust settles round my lust and the thud of despair hits bottom just as I flail and swim in this blood-caked,          soulless earth soup of the lost abyss of unbirth   you plunge my wilderness charred with remains from hellfire and we breathe                  halos   our bones lighted sticks, colors rising in angel arcs Your rib cage is open for my tremulous offering as my lips imprint a crimson O upon the earthquake of your chest I am still down with the                            earthworms wrist **** sopped                     by soil arteries, bashed split to the root by verbal hurts in a sliding psyche of oil yet here you are suturing wounds with whiplash kisses saltlick moans in my throat You wrap me in gauze through the imprint of your eyes turn my cuts into fresh brook gaze upon my deepest darkness like goddess worship shrine my **** is a funnel for your whipped light sacrifice ****** prayer skinned to the core all layers exposed your lips slick with the drip of my bliss, deep juice of freshly-caught jungle hum all is bared we stop at nothing paint our tongues with tears adorn the face of death with ripe guava and, as you scream my name into a blown glass whisper my soft fruit falls into the heat of           your palm somewhere in distance a         moon explodes
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73
O Thou to whom the musical white spring offers her lily inextinguishable, taught by thy tremulous grace bravely to fling Implacable death’s mysteriously sable rob from her redolent shoulders, Thou from whose feet reincarnate song suddenly leaping flameflung,mounts,inimitably to lose herself where the wet stars softly are keeping their exquisite dreams—O Love! upon thy dim shrine of intangible commemoration, (from whose faint close as some grave languorous hymn pledge to illimitable dissipation unhurried clouds of incense fleetly roll) i spill my bright incalculable soul.
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7.1k
E. E. Cummings
O Thou To Whom The Musical White Spring
O Thou to whom the musical white spring offers her lily inextinguishable, taught by thy tremulous grace bravely to fling Implacable death’s mysteriously sable rob from her redolent shoulders, Thou from whose feet reincarnate song suddenly leaping flameflung,mounts,inimitably to lose herself where the wet stars softly are keeping their exquisite dreams—O Love! upon thy dim shrine of intangible commemoration, (from whose faint close as some grave languorous hymn pledge to illimitable dissipation unhurried clouds of incense fleetly roll) i spill my bright incalculable soul.
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15
they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi   burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover
0
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
zebrablack
*** Kitten and Little Dead Girl....Ero ****
they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi   burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover
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75
''Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare 'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.' As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark: But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.' 'I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the Panter were sharing a pie: The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Old had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet by [eating the owl.]
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5.1k
Lewis Carroll
The Voice of the Lobster
''Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare 'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.' As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark: But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.' 'I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the Panter were sharing a pie: The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Old had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet by [eating the owl.]
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16
twice by god's accidental interference, our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts, connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness and disturbing the supermarkets peace what better way to judge character than to examine a single persons shopping cart  contents? hers, all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay, grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic mine, Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard, very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light, and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff, pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later, to which, I respond, then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight? later that night, after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes, she props herself upon an elbow and in a tone sincere and caring, extracts from the poet promises of natural exclusivity from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure, from the soul soil of our shared habitat her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp, softly climbing on top of her, announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity; I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough, garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking, I noting nod, good naturedly that both the laugh and smack, as well, *sourced locally, sourced lovingly,* which then seeded this new only love jointly authored poem, planted in our mingling blossoming crashing bodies 5/29/17 i 12:43pm
0
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
onlylovepoetry
Everything, Sourced Locally
twice by god's accidental interference, our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts, connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness and disturbing the supermarkets peace what better way to judge character than to examine a single persons shopping cart  contents? hers, all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay, grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic mine, Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard, very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light, and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff, pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later, to which, I respond, then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight? later that night, after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes, she props herself upon an elbow and in a tone sincere and caring, extracts from the poet promises of natural exclusivity from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure, from the soul soil of our shared habitat her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp, softly climbing on top of her, announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity; I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough, garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking, I noting nod, good naturedly that both the laugh and smack, as well, *sourced locally, sourced lovingly,* which then seeded this new only love jointly authored poem, planted in our mingling blossoming crashing bodies 5/29/17 i 12:43pm
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43
The night has been commissioned to awaken in me the ubiquitous longing for your touch. The mindlessness consumes me when I wander from dream to dream, fantasizing the ever after that’ll mysteriously become present once you touch. The exuberant charm in every swipe of the breeze broadens a smile, reminding me of the endless passion for good humor and intense delight that you decree in large measures whilst I quail in love. It is diabolical, this game you play of keeping in shadows while I wither, in the unremitting glare of the sun that keeps me on the banks of the dark lake leaving me with only a few drops to wet my hand. I will implore to have an end to this ceaseless battle of restraint and abandon, But am only left with a tremulous belief, it is all not false what I see, in the glorious mist that night casts, I do not only sleep.
0
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
mina-rider
Phantom Lover
The night has been commissioned to awaken in me the ubiquitous longing for your touch. The mindlessness consumes me when I wander from dream to dream, fantasizing the ever after that’ll mysteriously become present once you touch. The exuberant charm in every swipe of the breeze broadens a smile, reminding me of the endless passion for good humor and intense delight that you decree in large measures whilst I quail in love. It is diabolical, this game you play of keeping in shadows while I wither, in the unremitting glare of the sun that keeps me on the banks of the dark lake leaving me with only a few drops to wet my hand. I will implore to have an end to this ceaseless battle of restraint and abandon, But am only left with a tremulous belief, it is all not false what I see, in the glorious mist that night casts, I do not only sleep.
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27
Sunsets. Growing up I never liked the nights, As a child it signified the end of play with the rule that you had to be indoors at dawn. I remember the evil ticking sound of the tremulous hands of time as we were separated from our friends, with the sun wrapping up in the fragrant petals of the freezing cold nights. A spirit locked inside a world of silence and pure nothingness. The hot fire sparks assaulting my fragile skin of the hands over the fire at the compulsory fireplace,It's streaks of sorrow still trace their way into my soul. Until the day [God knows when] I saw the beauty of colors blending together, forming a magical hue through (You guessed it.) a cheap camera lens. Sunset is twice as beautiful through a camera lens. Now more than ever I go sit at my betch, snap the beautiful sunsets, and caption them with a nervous pulse knowing it’ll soon end. Only fair since nothing lasts forever. Darkness closes in, the fun begins. I reach for your hand. "Come with me into darkness."
0
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
ocean-carter
Sunsets (Reloaded)
Sunsets. Growing up I never liked the nights, As a child it signified the end of play with the rule that you had to be indoors at dawn. I remember the evil ticking sound of the tremulous hands of time as we were separated from our friends, with the sun wrapping up in the fragrant petals of the freezing cold nights. A spirit locked inside a world of silence and pure nothingness. The hot fire sparks assaulting my fragile skin of the hands over the fire at the compulsory fireplace,It's streaks of sorrow still trace their way into my soul. Until the day [God knows when] I saw the beauty of colors blending together, forming a magical hue through (You guessed it.) a cheap camera lens. Sunset is twice as beautiful through a camera lens. Now more than ever I go sit at my betch, snap the beautiful sunsets, and caption them with a nervous pulse knowing it’ll soon end. Only fair since nothing lasts forever. Darkness closes in, the fun begins. I reach for your hand. "Come with me into darkness."
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12
In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less— So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, And the tall pines that towered around. But when the Night had thrown her pall Upon the spot, as upon all, And the mystic wind went by Murmuring in melody— Then—ah, then, I would awake To the terror of the lone lake. Yet that terror was not fright, But a tremulous delight— A feeling not the jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define— Nor Love—although the Love were thine. Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining— Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake.
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4.3k
Edgar Allan Poe
The Lake
In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less— So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, And the tall pines that towered around. But when the Night had thrown her pall Upon the spot, as upon all, And the mystic wind went by Murmuring in melody— Then—ah, then, I would awake To the terror of the lone lake. Yet that terror was not fright, But a tremulous delight— A feeling not the jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define— Nor Love—although the Love were thine. Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining— Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake.
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23
I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the levelled scene. I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been,—alone, ‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart, ‘Whether they work together or apart.’ But as I said it, swift there passed me by On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, Seeking with memories grown dim over night Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight. And once I marked his flight go round and round, As where some flower lay withering on the ground. And then he flew as far as eye could see, And then on tremulous wing came back to me. I thought of questions that have no reply, And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; But he turned first, and led my eye to look At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. I left my place to know them by their name, Finding them butterfly-weed when I came. The mower in the dew had loved them thus, By leaving them to flourish, not for us, Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him, But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. The butterfly and I had lit upon, Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, That made me hear the wakening birds around, And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, And feel a spirit kindred to my own; So that henceforth I worked no more alone; But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. ‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart, ‘Whether they work together or apart.’
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4.2k
Robert Frost
The Tuft Of Flowers
I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the levelled scene. I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been,—alone, ‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart, ‘Whether they work together or apart.’ But as I said it, swift there passed me by On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, Seeking with memories grown dim over night Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight. And once I marked his flight go round and round, As where some flower lay withering on the ground. And then he flew as far as eye could see, And then on tremulous wing came back to me. I thought of questions that have no reply, And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; But he turned first, and led my eye to look At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. I left my place to know them by their name, Finding them butterfly-weed when I came. The mower in the dew had loved them thus, By leaving them to flourish, not for us, Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him, But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. The butterfly and I had lit upon, Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, That made me hear the wakening birds around, And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, And feel a spirit kindred to my own; So that henceforth I worked no more alone; But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. ‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart, ‘Whether they work together or apart.’
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42
(War Time) There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
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4.1k
Sara Teasdale
There Will Come Soft Rains
(War Time) There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
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13
My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best. My phantom-footed shape will go When nightfall grays Hither and thither along the ways I and another used to know In backward days. And there you’ll find me, if a jot You still should care For me, and for my curious air; If otherwise, then I shall not, For you, be there.
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4k
Thomas Hardy
My Spirit Will Not Haunt The Mound
My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best. My phantom-footed shape will go When nightfall grays Hither and thither along the ways I and another used to know In backward days. And there you’ll find me, if a jot You still should care For me, and for my curious air; If otherwise, then I shall not, For you, be there.
Continue reading...
15