"xxviii" poems
XXVIII. TO ATHENA (18 lines)
(ll. 1-16) I begin to sing of Pallas Athene, the glorious
goddess, bright-eyed, inventive, unbending of heart, pure ******
saviour of cities, courageous, Tritogeneia. From his awful head
wise Zeus himself bare her arrayed in warlike arms of flashing
gold, and awe seized all the gods as they gazed. But Athena
sprang quickly from the immortal head and stood before Zeus who
holds the aegis, shaking a sharp spear: great Olympus began to
reel horribly at the might of the bright-eyed goddess, and earth
round about cried fearfully, and the sea was moved and tossed
with dark waves, while foam burst forth suddenly: the bright Son
of Hyperion stopped his swift-footed horses a long while, until
the maiden Pallas Athene had stripped the heavenly armour from
her immortal shoulders. And wise Zeus was glad.
(ll. 17-18) And so hail to you, daughter of Zeus who holds the
aegis! Now I will remember you and another song as well.
7.6k
like how the Sun hides from the Moon
so that he doesn’t burn her radiance
always leaving too soon --
the ever-tantalizing romance
like how the Sky kisses the Sea
only through heavy rain
separated by Time, never free
forever driving them insane
like how Life and Death
chase each other for eternities
away you take my breath
despite incompatible personalities
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
XXVIII
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,—he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it!—this, . . . the paper’s light . . .
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God’s future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine—and so its ink has paled
With Iying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!
1.9k
How will you watch the love of your life love someone else?
Don't.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
Nudo cabeza de turco
que envuelve el alma
y estos pies de tierra.
Atándome como si fuera
cuerdas de guitarra
y tu el mástil y cuerpo
que resuena
como pan de cada dia.
El calor que busco
en la regadera
las mijas de galletas
en la alacena,
Me hacen sentir
que no estoy solo
que aun vives conmigo.
El maniquí que ocupa tu silla,
la puerta abierta
por si algún día regresas
mi oído atento
a cualquier voz que suena.
Delirio entre sueños
nudos en cada parte
de mi cuerpo
que asfixian mi alma
y enredan mi amor.
Buscar solución
y sumergir mi cabeza
en agua fria
para despertarme
y darme cuenta
que cuando no estas
surgen mis más
terribles pesadillas.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 3:44 PM UTC
I still see us together
That one awful night
Was the beginning of the end
The beginning of suffering
The beginning of the pain you inflicted
Can I look you in the eye
And still say I love you?
Could I be strong enough
To be able to face the pain?
I cannot sayI do not know
All I wonder was about our love
Was it worth the screaming?
The tears?
And the hurt?
If I had to
I would say "I love you"
But I cannot
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
Empathy: watching
someone draining their venom
without sampling it.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
dear atlas,
tw// language
just.
*******
call.
her.
JUST.
*******
CALL.
HER.
justfuckingcallher.
you want to talk to her.
so,
just ******* CALL HER.
i love you, but you need to stop being a *******
love you. *******
-atlas
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC
IN GOD I TRUST ,
NOT BECAUSE I MUST,
BECAUSE I TRUST.
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 6:33 AM UTC
I'm not addicted,
liquor's just the fittest liquid
to sift through the litany
of **** my mind whips
into existence.
Aids in grippin
the intricate specifics
among twisted images
that slip from
simply cryptic to mystic.
It's not *********
just simple statistics,
the rhyming gets better
when drinkings prolific.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
Amor, de grano a grano, de planeta a planeta,
la red del viento con sus países sombríos,
la guerra con sus zapatos de sangre,
o bien el día y la noche de la espiga.
Por donde fuimos, islas o puentes o banderas,
violines del fugaz otoño acribillado,
repitió la alegría los labios de la copa,
el dolor nos detuvo con su lección de llanto.
En todas las repúblicas desarrollaba el viento
su pabellón impune, su glacial cabellera
y luego regresaba la flor a sus trabajos.
Pero en nosotros nunca se calcinó el otoño.
Y en nuestra patria inmóvil germinaba y crecía
el amor con los derechos del rocío.
501
XXVIII
New York was far too bittersweet
For my taste-
I spit it out, gave it back.
You lied, my friend- my poor and
Huddled mass isn’t good enough
For your golden streets.
I got off the rescue ship thinkin’
That survivin’ must mean I’m gonna
Be somebody, that maybe because a lifeboat
Walled me in, held my hand through disaster-
I had some meaning. Some reason
To walk on tall into your open,
American arms.
But I checked the list of the dead
Today. I read name and name and name
And
There is no way there were two
Margaret Clarence Smitholds
On that there ocean voyage.
What’s so dead about me?
I checked today and I walk and I talk
Far better than a plastic doll
And there’s no livin’ part of me I left on
That boat
‘cept maybe my heart
Because lord, there ain’t no
Dead in my skin
But I’m **** close to not bein able
To feel
anything
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 8:42 AM UTC
XXVIII.
because your wrist is cramped up and everything's so temporary but you just want permanent change you want change so bad
XXIX.
because you want to ruin yourself but how can you do that and also help everyone else
***
because it's always so tempting to say you can stop caring and it's always so tempting to say you can take care of them while ruining yourself
XXXI.
because you really don't know how anyone gets better or if they do
XXXII.
because you know to be okay you'll have to be there for yourself, too and nothing has ever seemed so impossible as this
XXXIII.
because really you know they'll be okay without you because you're not entirely necessary
XXXIV.
because you don't want to be necessary not really because you don't trust yourself but also you do because then you'd have a reason to stay but you really don't know if you want that either
XXXV.
because you can see the future coming but you can't see yourself and you've always struggled with faith
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
Cuando entre la sombra oscura,
perdida una voz murmura
turbando su triste calma,
si en el fondo de mi alma
la oigo dulce resonar,
dime: ¿es que el viento en sus giros
se queja, o que tus suspiros
me hablan de amor al pasar?
Cuando el sol en mi ventana
rojo brilla a la mañana,
y mi amor tu sombra evoca,
si en mi boca de otra boca
sentir creo la impresión,
dime: ¿es que ciego deliro,
o que un beso en un suspiro
me envía tu corazón?
Y en el luminoso día
y en la alta noche sombría,
si en todo cuanto rodea
al alma que te desea,
te creo sentir y ver,
dime: ¿es que toco y respiro
soñando, o que en un suspiro
me das tu aliento a beber?
414
Todo hombre tiene dos
batallas que pelear:
en sueños lucha con Dios;
y despierto, con el mar.
397
Pitiful! Just pitiful! When one has to go to work in order to get adequate sleep!
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
Don't comprehend connotation of song?
Please sing to me never...
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
How can I then return in happy plight?
I can’t sleep
when I do
my subconscious torments me so
or worse
it plays cruel tricks on me
by dreaming of a kinder world
one with
you
in it
I want to sink into a slumber
because I want the night to end
But I want to stay awake
because I don’t want tomorrow to come
I can’t do this again
I just want the noises in my head to stop
but the silence is violent
I look at my reflection
and all I see is
you
The sun
and
the moon
once at opposition
shake hands to torture me
and I remain a knave to them both
I wander around the other side in my nightmares
and follow the echoes of your voice
crippled by the memory of your touch
I would toil the galaxy to find you
but the earth pulls me down
back to this bed that feels like a prison
So I lay here
stabbing swords into the night
cowering from the morning
The sun
draws my sorrows longer
The moon
makes grief’s strength stronger
I can’t live without
you
- XXVIII
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
i wanted to paint
you a galaxy,
but all i could
put out was
a mere speck
of paint.
(mer)
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend XXVIII "
Trying to love the reflection riddles
Abound purely from the brain perceiving
As best it can particles pieces lumps
Aggregate nodules worded in the
Beginning of humanity grass leaves
Pond finger on up to various worlds
Entire infinitely manifesting
Wave after wave form sentient beings
Conscious i ego ***** movers shakers
Of god stuff psychic unity of kind
Compassion hate greed mind river just us
Together birth flow death to the sea
Never away from except the incomplete
Image reflected we're trying to love
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC