"xxii" poems
XXII. TO POSEIDON (7 lines)
(ll. 1-5) I begin to sing about Poseidon, the great god, mover of
the earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of
Helicon and wide Aegae. A two-fold office the gods allotted you,
O Shaker of the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and a saviour of
ships!
(ll. 6-7) Hail, Poseidon, Holder of the Earth, dark-haired lord!
O blessed one, be kindly in heart and help those who voyage in
ships!
13.8k
XXII
When our two souls stand up ***** and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either curved point,—what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher,
The angels would press on us and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay
Rather on earth, Beloved,—where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.
3.2k
SO much depends upon a red wheel barrow
So MUCH depends upon a red wheelbarrow
So much DEPENDS upon a red wheelbarrow
So much depends UPON a red wheelbarrow
So much depends upon A red wheelbarrow
So much depends upon a RED wheel barrow
So much depends upon a red WHEEL barrow
So much depends upon a red wheel BARROW
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
I learned that we rush to grow up
since the day we turn fifteen
that our childhood dream
of being invisible
has turned into a terrible nightmare
that we hope to read our future
in the smoke of cigarrettes
and that we look for answers
at the bottom of the bottles
that flying means more than
throwing yourself from the roof
and floating beyond the sky
that if we stop sleeping
we would mix reality
and dreams
and sometimes that's all we need
That maybe the cure of cancer lives
inside the mind of a child
who can't afford education
that no one would behave as society demands
if we had nothing to lose
that hearts only break once for real
and that liars were once
the purest
that cold and heartless people
don't really exist
that we all have scars
maybe not in our wrists
but in our hearts and souls
or in the little universes that we create
and crumbled down
that we all had an imaginary friend
to keep us from being alone
when mom and dad used to fight
that the best poetry cones from chaos and pain
and that we use art to release our anger
because it's just art
and it doesn't worry anyone
that if each of us were a little bit kinder
less people would wish to disappear
and the world would be a better place
I understood that the books are a lot like mirrors
that we only see in them
what we already carry inside of us
that if we would send less texts
we'd know when a friend feels lonely
that we rather take pictures of the moment
than livig it with the person sitting next to us
That there are no potions to forget the pain
nor chocolates that makes us feel better
that we are all a little crazy
and we are okay with that
that happiness depends on us
and how bad we look for it
but this is just what I learned
and I don't know...
what did you ?
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Cuántas veces, amor, te amé sin verte y tal vez sin recuerdo,
sin reconocer tu mirada, sin mirarte, centaura,
en regiones contrarias, en un mediodía quemante:
eras sólo el aroma de los cereales que amo.
Tal vez te vi, te supuse al pasar levantando una copa
en Angol, a la luz de la luna de Junio,
o eras tú la cintura de aquella guitarra
que toqué en las tinieblas y sonó como el mar desmedido.
Te amé sin que yo lo supiera, y busqué tu memoria.
En las casas vacías entré con linterna a robar tu retrato.
Pero yo ya sabía cómo era. De pronto
mientras ibas conmigo te toqué y se detuvo mi vida:
frente a mis ojos estabas, reinándome, y reinas.
Como hoguera en los bosques el fuego es tu reino.
1.4k
Was it
The floating black clouds?
Or the passing fresh breeze?
Maybe was it the roaring wind
Along with
The flaming old-gold color sun?
Yet it sure was the splattering cold rain,
I often caught in his glance
That could describe him and his pain.
His hair was careless
His behavior reckless
But his eyes hopeless
And his kiss tasteless.
The world’s illusions
Submerged people into confusion,
Deluding him who often had hope
To cope
With love and living.
But as all the things breathing
It too dies with the moments
Leaving people in all kinds of disappointments.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
I
Again the larkspur,
Heavenly blue in my garden.
They, at least, unchanged.
II
How have I hurt you?
You look at me with pale eyes,
But these are my tears.
III
Morning and evening--
Yet for us once long ago
Was no division.
IV
I hear many words.
Set an hour when I may come
Or remain silent.
V
In the ghostly dawn
I write new words for your ears--
Even now you sleep.
VI
This then is morning.
Have you no comfort for me
Cold-colored flowers?
VII
My eyes are weary
Following you everywhere.
Short, oh short, the days!
VIII
When the flower falls
The leaf is no more cherished.
Every day I fear.
IX
Even when you smile
Sorrow is behind your eyes.
Pity me, therefore.
X
Laugh--it is nothing.
To others you may seem gay,
I watch with grieved eyes.
XI
Take it, this white rose.
Stems of roses do not bleed;
Your fingers are safe.
XII
As a river-wind
Hurling clouds at a bright moon,
So am I to you.
XIII
Watching the iris,
The faint and fragile petals--
How am I worthy?
XIV
Down a red river
I drift in a broken skiff.
Are you then so brave?
XV
Night lies beside me
Chaste and cold as a sharp sword.
It and I alone.
XVI
Last night it rained.
Now, in the desolate dawn,
Crying of blue jays.
XVII
Foolish so to grieve,
Autumn has its colored leaves--
But before they turn?
XVIII
Afterwards I think:
Poppies bloom when it thunders.
Is this not enough?
XIX
Love is a game--yes?
I think it is a drowning:
Black willows and stars.
**
When the aster fades
The creeper flaunts in crimson.
Always another!
XXI
Turning from the page,
Blind with a night of labor,
I hear morning crows.
XXII
A cloud of lilies,
Or else you walk before me.
Who could see clearly?
XXIII
Sweet smell of wet flowers
Over an evening garden.
Your portrait, perhaps?
XXIV
Staying in my room,
I thought of the new Spring leaves.
That day was happy.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
The back bending makes way for the animal medicine. A changeling on the run— playing with the fanciful menagerie on a houseboat. Mixing lamp oil with years—materials set on fire. No thing is no longer the game so begins a shock of names. The polished look of the dancer inspired—sure as the peacock she checked out, "What's up, Showing Off? You look like the tribal leader."
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 10:28 AM UTC
Shared; sparks another...
Light play in the trusted clouds shadowed the ocean view.
Did you see all as well?
The counseling courtship...
Full appreciation.
Motivational and soothing dynamic.
How hard to help ourselves?
The s'mores are done...
Bite in. Adore the marvel.
Burnt consistency...
Nothing at all predetermined.
Run wild.
Frolic.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
¿Cómo vive esa rosa que has prendido
junto a tu corazón?
Nunca hasta ahora contemplé en el mundo
junto al volcán la flor.
990
XXII
Cyriac, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, t’ have lost them overplied
In liberty’s defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
929
Yours,
I know where you live (how many times have I walked in the door, as if I lived there myself? Opened the cupboard, filled a glass with water, asked about your roommate’s days? Kicked my shoes off nonchalantly, checked my email on your computer, spread out on your bed and read a novel while you played video games? Sat on your couch to watch television with the rest of your house, my legs draped over yours? Slept in your bed, pressed up against your body? Was woken up to satisfy a primal urge, knowing what you like? Kept the volume of my moans down, not out of embarrassment, your roommates have heard me so many times it hardly matters, but out of respect for the early hour? Made myself some toast, drank some juice from your fridge, left you sweetly sleeping to catch the bus?).
I know where you work (and when, when there is no point for me to look for you, glimpse you in your uniform, a quick kiss before class, join you on your break while you eat turkey and cranberry sauce).
I somehow find myself in these places. I look up from being lost in thought, and panic as I realize that I could run into you at any moment. Seeing you hurts me so I rush away from these danger zones - but always glancing back.
Why do I torture myself so, with the hurt comes from seeing you, thinking of you? Because one day, I know I will see you without distress. One day I may smile in recollection at the love we once had. I am tortured every day with the sight of you by the hope that finally, this day is the last you will cause me pain.
Mine.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
O' ray!
O' ray!
O' ray, O' sunshine
Bring back the hot days
where my skin shined
so bright.
It had the sun
green with envy
for that moment - all
was surreal.
Purple becomes green.
Gold to yellow, brown to rust.
Lets go and make our
next busk
tell me of a time, where
yesterday was always today
and tomorrow never came.
The sun in an ever looping instance of "rising" or
was it "falling"?
We'll never know and
who'd want to know?
Oblivious to oblivion
Living in disproportion,
Where yelling in ears becomes
whispering prayers and crazy muttering
become insightful guides.
A place where all I Am is
confused, and I'm the
Confusion. Now bring me to madness
and (I Know the conclusion)
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
what makes one fall in love?
is it the curves of her collarbones,
or the edges of her hips?
is it the way she throws her head back, laughing
or how she hides her face, crying?
is it her firm, undeniable confidence
or the way she cowers from her fears?
is it the way she whispers “i love you”
or the her never-ending arguments?
when are you going to admit to yourself
that it’s just the loneliness*
seeping into your unguarded heart
at three in the morning?
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
The Grand Mind produces Thoughts.
Thoughts are born within Millions of Minds.
It's upon You, which Thoughts You'll receive, create or adopt;
Whether you cling to positive or negative Thoughts ~ it's up to You!
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
☯
Slow dying flower,
will you sleep within eden,
or in god's belly?
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
A lua apresenta-se como dia
Para confundir a escuridão
À meia noite o sol resplandece
O olhar se volta para o alto
O corpo espreita o abismo
Esperança é desespero, e
Desespero é esperança
O calor está esfriando a alma
A água incendeia-se em chamas
E faz nevar
A luz que ilumina
Esconde em si a eterna noite
O abismo esconde o infinito
Ou a morte eterna...
O louco arrisca tudo
no destino incerto....
Já se esqueceu de seu corpo
Já se livrou da morte
chamando-a para si
Mas o verdadeiro louco...
Sequer sabe do abismo
Seus olhos são apenas estrelas
Seu alvo é apenas o céu
Não sabe que vai cair...
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
I SEE THIS ,
FOR THE TRUTH THIS IT IS,
THE IT THAT I WANTED FOR ALL,
THE IT I FIRST GLANCED AT,
THE IT I WILL HAVE FOR NOT JUST THIS LIFE,
THE IT I WILL HAVE FOR ALL LIVES,
THIS IT IS MY MAGS.
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 5:37 AM UTC
Now: yesterday's dread,
tomorrow's history; the
only time we live.
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 1:28 PM UTC
I once thought
We were eternal
But once again
I was wrong
Time flies
And a piece of life
Is rapidly dissolving
Where does life go?
Once it's gone
Does it stay
Or does it fade away?
The memories we once locked up
What becomes of it
Does it fade away
Or will it remain locked up?
Nothing but a mere secret
Never to be known
Even when we die
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
XXII.
because you spent years discovering different agonies and you've decided the worst is the constant the unchanging the one that has no end and no result because you can't escape
XXIII.
because deep down you know this is self care this sleeping this hiding this crying this writing because even if it hurts it's a change
XXIV.
because you thought you were invalid for even at your worst you couldn't help but think about getting better so maybe that wasn't the worst but you know now you always just thought of change be it good or bad
XXV.
because you really honestly truly and surely don't believe you can make the right decision about getting better or worse without help
XXVI.
because you haven't gotten better yet and that would be a change but you also haven't gotten to rock bottom yet and that would be a change
XXVI.
because you have to make a decision now
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
Life Liberty and the Pursuit
of never catching a breath,
leaving a house wreck
in the yard where
I thought there were flowers.
The garden where
my mother spent hours
growing vegetables
she'd always over cook.
Her sweet potatoes baked bitter
no butter made it better.
So I decided to grow on my own,
to grab a gasp of air that
will never let me choke.
Freedom
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:06 PM UTC