     
margaret ann
ageless/not enough/here
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 enough
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2006-03-16 09:02:51
ENOUGH
Enough. These few words are enough.
If not these words, this breath.
If not this breath, this sitting here.
This opening to the life
we have refused
again and again
until now.
Until now.
~ David Whyte
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words
Mood: Sad
Posted on 2006-01-11 16:41:43
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
-PabloNeruda
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walking
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2005-12-24 08:51:10
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
~~ by Mary Oliver
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love
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2005-12-14 12:42:51
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
-PabloNeruda
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from a friend
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2005-12-03 22:49:51
I Am Here
Trust me
I am here.
For you
I am here.
Always
I am here.
You reach out
and I am here
Catch my hand
and I am here
Break away
I am here
You return
I am here
Fingers fold
and I am here
2 hands hold
I'm still here
4 feet forward
I am here
4 feet further
I'm still here
For forever
still I’m here
In the morning
I am here
Night and day
I am here
sleepy dreaming
I am here
In depression
I am here
Grief or anguish
I am here
Howls of sadness
I’m still here
You breath in
and I am There
‘breathing in
the same air
We exhale
I am there
moving forward
I am there
And in happiness
I’m there
Because you are
I am there
In the end
where are we
2 hands held
2 hands free
fit to win
from the start
So for you
I am here.
Always
I am here.
Trust me
I am here
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coffee reading-
Mood: Sigh...
Posted on 2005-11-26 10:59:46
Sonnet XXVIII
From Fatal Interview:
When we are old and these rejoicing veins
Are frosty channels to a muted stream,
And out of all our burning their remains
No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream,
This be our solace: that it was not said
When we were young and warm and in our prime,
Upon our couch we lay as lie the dead,
Sleeping away the unreturning time.
O sweet, O heavy-lidded, O my love,
When morning strikes her spear upon the land,
And we must rise and arm us and reprove
The insolent daylight with a steady hand,
Be not discountenanced if the knowing know
We rose from rapture but an hour ago.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
thanks Marco ;-)
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Africa
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2005-11-22 08:35:04
Marco's poem a 'thousand to a grave' got me thinking, and then I came across this poem...
If you want to know me
This is what I am
empty sockets despairing of possessing of life
a mouth torn open in an anguished wound...
a body tattooed with wounds seen and unseen
from the harsh whipstrokes of slavery
tortured and magnificent
proud and mysterious
Africa from head to foot
This is what I am
© Noémia de Sousa
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Cris
Mood: Confused
Posted on 2005-11-18 23:45:54
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love
The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face, your face
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Untitled Entry
Mood: Lonely
Posted on 2005-11-18 23:34:24
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear my crown of s**t
On my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
~Nine Inch Nails
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Geese
Mood: Thinking...
Posted on 2005-11-14 09:49:52
Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
the Canadian Geese are everywhere now, escaping to warmer lands - I see and hear them every time I step out side, and think of this poem, one of my favourites.
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