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Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: Previous  1, 2, 3, 4 ... 203, 204, 205  Next
Post to this Topic
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Nov 7, 2020 - 7:23am

 miamizsun wrote:

The Peace of Wild Things from Katy Wang on Vimeo.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

 
Berry is one of the best! And this is one of his best.
Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Location: Valhǫll
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 6, 2020 - 10:14am


miamizsun

miamizsun Avatar

Location: (3261.3 Miles SE of RP)
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 6, 2020 - 9:28am

The Peace of Wild Things from Katy Wang on Vimeo.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Lazy8

Lazy8 Avatar

Location: The Gallatin Valley of Montana
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 4, 2020 - 5:44pm

Everything is going to be all right

by Derek Mahon

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 2, 2020 - 9:45am


whatshisname

whatshisname Avatar

Location: West OZ
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 2, 2020 - 4:28am

BALLARD OF THE TOTEMS

by   OODGEROO NOONUCCAL


My father was Noonuccal man and kept old tribal way,
His totem was the Carpet Snake, whom none must ever slay;
But mother was of Peewee clan, and loudly she expressed
The daring view that carpet snakes were nothing but a pest.

Now one lived inside with us in full immunity,
For no one dared to interfere with father’s stern decree:
A mighty fellow ten feet long, and as we lay in bed
We kids could watch him round a beam not far above our head.

Only the dog was scared of him, we’d hear its whines and growls,
But mother fiercely hated him because he took her fowls.
You should have heard her diatribes that flowed in angry torrents,
With words you’d never see in print, except in D.H. Lawrence.

“I kill that robber,” she would scream, fierce as a spotted cat;
“You see that bulge inside of him? My speckly hen make that!”
But father’s loud and strict command made even mother quake;
I think he’d sooner kill a man than kill a carpet snake.

That reptile was a greedy guts, and as each bulge digested
He’d come down on the hunt at night, as appetite suggested.
We heard his stealthy slithering sound across the earthen floor,
While the dog gave a startled yelp and bolted out the door.

Then over in the chicken-yard hysterical fowls gave tongue,
Loud frantic squawks accompanied by the barking of the mung,
Until at last the racket passed, and then to solve the riddle,
Next morning he was back up there with a new bulge in his middle.

When father died we wailed and cried, our grief was deep and sore,
And strange to say from that sad day the snake was seen no more.
The wise old men explained to us: “It was his tribal brother,
And that is why it done a guy” – but some looked hard at mother.

She seemed to have a secret smile, her eyes were smug and wary,
She looked about as innocent as the cat that ate the pet canary.
We never knew, but anyhow (to end this tragic rhyme)
I think we all had snake for tea one day about that time.
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Nov 1, 2020 - 8:24am



 ScottN wrote:
The Other Poet
by Ellie Schoenfeld

The poet explains exactly
what her poems are doing on a variety of levels.
I am jealously impressed.
My poems go places
but send no postcards––I have no idea
what they are doing. They do
whatever they want to.
I give them curfews
but they wake me in the middle
of the night, they interrupt meetings
and other situations where I have no time
for them. They hang on me
when I am on the phone.
They do not keep my secrets
and sometimes they lie.
They can be sullen and withdrawn
or explosively obscene.
I think my poems have problems with authority,
conduct disorders, attention deficit.
The other poet is like the parent
with the bumper sticker about their honor student
while I am speeding along
to get to the correctional facility
before visiting hours are over.
I try to give my poems direction.
They tell me they have cleaned their rooms
but we both know it's not true.
After all these years of therapy
we still don't understand each other.
I write a poem and think
"What the hell is that?!"

  



ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 1, 2020 - 7:35am

The Other Poet
by Ellie Schoenfeld

The poet explains exactly
what her poems are doing on a variety of levels.
I am jealously impressed.
My poems go places
but send no postcards––I have no idea
what they are doing. They do
whatever they want to.
I give them curfews
but they wake me in the middle
of the night, they interrupt meetings
and other situations where I have no time
for them. They hang on me
when I am on the phone.
They do not keep my secrets
and sometimes they lie.
They can be sullen and withdrawn
or explosively obscene.
I think my poems have problems with authority,
conduct disorders, attention deficit.
The other poet is like the parent
with the bumper sticker about their honor student
while I am speeding along
to get to the correctional facility
before visiting hours are over.
I try to give my poems direction.
They tell me they have cleaned their rooms
but we both know it's not true.
After all these years of therapy
we still don't understand each other.
I write a poem and think
"What the hell is that?!"
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 14, 2020 - 9:53am

 Antigone wrote:
Messenger
 
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

~ Mary Oliver

 
*bump*
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 11, 2020 - 5:47pm

Family
by Grace Paley

My father was brilliant     embarrassed     funny     handsome
my mother was plain     serious     principled     kind
my grandmother was intelligent     lonesome for her
                                 other life     her dead children     silent
my aunt was beautiful     bitter     angry     loving

I fell among these adjectives in earliest childhood
and was nearly buried with opportunity
some of them stuck to me     others
finding me American and smooth slipped away
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 8, 2020 - 9:37pm

I believe this needs a bump—from a couple years ago.

Manbird wrote:

August is Warm

This remarkable peach toast morning
Has so clearly gifted me
A bloom of rising spirit
In the slow adobe air
I touch stones and weave
Small grasses with my hands
I am light and brown and alive
This season
Healing season
Standing and turning to the Sun
To all my good good Fathers
Who wear my twisted scars
as the whip snake warms
On broken stones
On torn red rocks

I bake my bread
I burn my oil
I bend to the burning soil

My feet are dry and thin
And anxious to run
Sweeping
Into the dream of the swollen blue evening
Leaping
Into the hulking blue yeast
Of this soft and violet night
I have some turquoise and amber
Where the sweet and sour pull of flesh
Releases my talk song whisper
Releases my cactus flower scent
When the tumbling clay roof of the church
Gives up its heat
Like the smoke from the farmer's
Dark brown prayers
Then I will sleep and dream
Of the sad stray dog
We call Abandonado
Tomorrow we must visit the priest
He has injured himself
Again

 

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Oct 6, 2020 - 11:38am

 ScottN wrote:

Before Dark
by Wendell Berry

From the porch at dusk I watched
a kingfisher wild in flight
he could only have made for joy.

He came down the river, splashing
against the water's dimming face
like a skipped rock, passing

on down out of sight. And still
I could hear the splashes
farther and farther away

as it grew darker. He came back
the same way, dusky as his shadow,
sudden beyond the willows.

The splashes went on out of hearing.
It was dark then. Somewhere
the night had accommodated him

—at the place he was headed for
or where, led by his delight,
he came.
 
Lovely. Berry is (one of) the best.
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 6, 2020 - 11:33am

Before Dark
by Wendell Berry

From the porch at dusk I watched
a kingfisher wild in flight
he could only have made for joy.

He came down the river, splashing
against the water's dimming face
like a skipped rock, passing

on down out of sight. And still
I could hear the splashes
farther and farther away

as it grew darker. He came back
the same way, dusky as his shadow,
sudden beyond the willows.

The splashes went on out of hearing.
It was dark then. Somewhere
the night had accommodated him

—at the place he was headed for
or where, led by his delight,
he came.
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Oct 2, 2020 - 2:42pm

How to be alone

Pádraig Ó Tuama

 

It all begins with knowing

nothing lasts forever.

So you might as well start packing now.

But, in the meantime,

practice being alive.

 

There will be a party

where you’ll feel like

nobody’s paying you attention.

And there will be a party

where attention’s all you’ll get.

What you need to do

is know how to talk to

yourself

between these parties.

 

And,

again,

there will be a day,

— a decade —

where you won’t

fit in with your body

even though you’re in

the only body you’re in.

 

You need to control

your habit of forgetting

to breathe.

 

Remember when you were younger

and you practiced kissing on your arm?

You were on to something then.

Sometimes harm knows its own healing

comfort its own intelligence.

Kindness too.

It needs no reason.

 

There is a you

telling you a story of you.

Listen to her.

 

Where do you feel

anxiety in your body?

The chest? The fist? The dream before waking?

The head that feels like it’s at the top of the swing

or the clutch of gut like falling

& falling & falling and falling

It knows something: you’re dying.

Try to stay alive.

 

For now, touch yourself.

I’m serious.

 

Touch your

self.

Take your hand

and place your hand

some place

upon your body.

And listen

to the community of madness

that

you are.

 

You are

such an

interesting conversation.

 

You belong

here.

 

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 31, 2020 - 8:28am

Parlor
by Rita Dove

We passed through
on the way to anywhere else.
No one lived there
but silence, a pale china gleam,

and the tired eyes of saints
aglow on velvet.
Mom says things are made
to be used. But Grandma insisted
peace was in what wasn't there,
strength in what was unsaid.

It would be nice to have a room
you couldn't enter, except in your mind.
I like to sit on my bed
plugged into my transistor radio,
"Moon River" pouring through my head.

How do you use life?
How do you feel it? Mom says

things harden with age; she says
Grandma is happier now. After the funeral,
I slipped off while they stood around
remembering-away from all
the talking and eating and weeping

to sneak a peek. She wasn't there.
Then I understood why
she had kept them just so:

so quiet and distant,
the things that she loved.

Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Location: Valhǫll
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 13, 2020 - 8:59am



 oldviolin wrote:


 ScottN wrote:

Wrong forum?  I kinda like that stanza.
{#Cowboy}
 
I like it all. It's like validation...

 

The whole poem feels kinda like it's addressing me personally.  


Yet it's soothing as per it's well-wishing. ~ Thx!
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 13, 2020 - 8:58am

 oldviolin wrote:


 ScottN wrote:

Wrong forum?  I kinda like that stanza. {#Cowboy}
 
I like it all. It's like validation...

 
Or it could be you lose your job at Happy Nails
because you can't stop smudging the stars
on those ten teeny American flags.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 13, 2020 - 8:55am



 ScottN wrote:

Wrong forum?  I kinda like that stanza.
{#Cowboy}
 
I like it all. It's like validation...

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 13, 2020 - 8:50am

 oldviolin wrote:


 ScottN wrote:
French Chocolates
by Ellen Bass

If you have your health, you have everything
is something that's said to cheer you up
when you come home early and find your lover
arched over a stranger in a scarlet thong.

Or it could be you lose your job at Happy Nails
because you can't stop smudging the stars
on those ten teeny American flags.

I don't begrudge you your extravagant vitality.
May it blossom like a cherry tree. May the petals
of your cardiovascular excellence
and the accordion polka of your lungs
sweeten the mornings of your loneliness.


But for the ill, for you with nerves that fire
like a rusted-out burner on an old barbecue,
with bones brittle as spun sugar,
with a migraine hammering like a blacksmith

in the flaming forge of your skull,
may you be spared from friends who say,
God doesn't give you more than you can handle
and ask what gifts being sick has brought you.

May they just keep their mouths shut
and give you French chocolates and daffodils
and maybe a small, original Matisse,
say, Open Window, Collioure, so you can look out
at the boats floating on the dappled pink water.
 

Sheesh...
 
Wrong forum?  I kinda like that stanza. {#Cowboy}
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Aug 9, 2020 - 6:24am

Fog like cotton wool
Muffles sound. We walk through the
Quiet neighborhoods.
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