[ ]   [ ]   [ ]                        [ ]      [ ]   [ ]

Bob Dylan - miamizsun - Sep 26, 2022 - 3:08pm
 
NASA & other news from space - R_P - Sep 26, 2022 - 3:07pm
 
Radio Paradise Comments - triskele - Sep 26, 2022 - 2:45pm
 
What's the first concert you ever went to? - ScottFromWyoming - Sep 26, 2022 - 2:41pm
 
Blondie in Detroit - ScottFromWyoming - Sep 26, 2022 - 2:30pm
 
• • • BRING OUT YOUR DEAD • • •  - oldviolin - Sep 26, 2022 - 1:46pm
 
HALF A WORLD - oldviolin - Sep 26, 2022 - 1:39pm
 
Florida Hurricane preparedness - Red_Dragon - Sep 26, 2022 - 1:37pm
 
Russia - Red_Dragon - Sep 26, 2022 - 1:09pm
 
Derplahoma! - Red_Dragon - Sep 26, 2022 - 12:29pm
 
New RP Website! (2022) - ScottFromWyoming - Sep 26, 2022 - 12:11pm
 
Britain - R_P - Sep 26, 2022 - 11:57am
 
Radio Paradise NFL Pick'em Group - GeneP59 - Sep 26, 2022 - 11:31am
 
What the world needs now is .... - Red_Dragon - Sep 26, 2022 - 11:24am
 
Bug Reports & Feature Requests - RPnate1 - Sep 26, 2022 - 10:48am
 
Things You Thought Today - Antigone - Sep 26, 2022 - 8:12am
 
Wordle - daily game - rgio - Sep 26, 2022 - 7:37am
 
China - miamizsun - Sep 26, 2022 - 7:28am
 
What the hell OV? - miamizsun - Sep 26, 2022 - 7:12am
 
Really missing ABBA (not) - ColdMiser - Sep 26, 2022 - 6:59am
 
Lowest rated song you gave a 10 - KurtfromLaQuinta - Sep 26, 2022 - 6:16am
 
Mixtape Culture Club - miamizsun - Sep 26, 2022 - 6:14am
 
Joe Biden - VV - Sep 26, 2022 - 6:05am
 
Today in History - Red_Dragon - Sep 26, 2022 - 5:11am
 
The Abortion Wars - Red_Dragon - Sep 25, 2022 - 4:42pm
 
Annoying stuff. not things that piss you off, just annoyi... - Red_Dragon - Sep 25, 2022 - 4:35pm
 
New App Changes. Can't Scroll Back On Comment Section of - Laptopdog - Sep 25, 2022 - 4:04pm
 
Art Show - Manbird - Sep 25, 2022 - 2:08pm
 
Italy - Red_Dragon - Sep 25, 2022 - 1:45pm
 
What are you listening to now? - eyke - Sep 25, 2022 - 12:45pm
 
Questions. - haresfur - Sep 25, 2022 - 12:24pm
 
Ambient Music - haresfur - Sep 25, 2022 - 12:16pm
 
Trump - westslope - Sep 25, 2022 - 11:30am
 
First Porcupine Tree Concert in Toronto - westslope - Sep 25, 2022 - 11:09am
 
Judy Chops - gazweid - Sep 25, 2022 - 9:42am
 
Positive Thoughts and Prayer Requests - Red_Dragon - Sep 25, 2022 - 8:13am
 
Quick! I need a chicken... - haresfur - Sep 24, 2022 - 4:36pm
 
hey Siri, play radio paradise in the living room? - KurtfromLaQuinta - Sep 24, 2022 - 4:04pm
 
The Obituary Page - eyke - Sep 24, 2022 - 7:08am
 
COVID-19 - nottheusualkind - Sep 23, 2022 - 9:38pm
 
Ukraine - Red_Dragon - Sep 23, 2022 - 9:16pm
 
Photography Forum - Your Own Photos - KurtfromLaQuinta - Sep 23, 2022 - 9:04pm
 
Guns - westslope - Sep 23, 2022 - 8:05pm
 
RIP Barbara Billingsley - fateme.mollaei - Sep 23, 2022 - 6:40pm
 
Display Album Art/Hide Slideshow - dischuckin - Sep 23, 2022 - 11:45am
 
YouTube: Music-Videos - thisbody - Sep 23, 2022 - 11:43am
 
Getting ads on Sonos Radio Paradise Plugin - scrubbrush - Sep 23, 2022 - 10:46am
 
Republican Party - Red_Dragon - Sep 23, 2022 - 10:41am
 
260,000 Posts in one thread? - oldviolin - Sep 23, 2022 - 7:10am
 
Automotive Lust - KurtfromLaQuinta - Sep 23, 2022 - 6:14am
 
USA! USA! USA! - westslope - Sep 22, 2022 - 7:07pm
 
They're made out of meat. - Manbird - Sep 22, 2022 - 3:47pm
 
Pernicious Pious Proclivities Particularized Prodigiously - Red_Dragon - Sep 22, 2022 - 3:20pm
 
What makes you smile? - miamizsun - Sep 22, 2022 - 1:38pm
 
Climate Change - R_P - Sep 22, 2022 - 12:18pm
 
Sonos - scrubbrush - Sep 22, 2022 - 11:33am
 
Earthquake - Steely_D - Sep 22, 2022 - 9:40am
 
Name My Band - GeneP59 - Sep 22, 2022 - 7:10am
 
The Dragons' Roost - GeneP59 - Sep 22, 2022 - 6:55am
 
Anti-War - R_P - Sep 21, 2022 - 7:41pm
 
What is the meaning of this? - oldviolin - Sep 21, 2022 - 2:46pm
 
• • • The Once-a-Day • • •  - oldviolin - Sep 21, 2022 - 12:09pm
 
Grammar Police Rap Sheet - kbs - Sep 21, 2022 - 10:35am
 
Animal Resistance - Red_Dragon - Sep 21, 2022 - 8:21am
 
Artificial Intelligence - miamizsun - Sep 21, 2022 - 5:30am
 
Economix - miamizsun - Sep 21, 2022 - 5:02am
 
Talk Behind Their Backs Forum - VV - Sep 20, 2022 - 3:26pm
 
Radio Paradise for Android Automotive - mpatnode - Sep 20, 2022 - 2:05pm
 
The Wall - R_P - Sep 20, 2022 - 1:50pm
 
::Animal Kingdom:: - Red_Dragon - Sep 20, 2022 - 1:29pm
 
Sweet horrible irony. - Red_Dragon - Sep 20, 2022 - 11:47am
 
North Korea - miamizsun - Sep 20, 2022 - 4:08am
 
Is there a new App. for mobile devices? - Laptopdog - Sep 19, 2022 - 11:43pm
 
Father John Misty has never been played on RP? - phineas - Sep 19, 2022 - 1:42pm
 
Sweden | Sverige - NoEnzLefttoSplit - Sep 19, 2022 - 12:03pm
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 207, 208, 209  Next
Post to this Topic
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Sep 12, 2022 - 3:16pm

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow:
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

EAP

Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 19, 2022 - 5:07pm

 ScottN wrote:
 
h/t Manbird
 
 
Sylvia Plath
 
 
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky ——
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly call out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness ——
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness — blackness and silence

love love love this



ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Aug 19, 2022 - 2:08pm

 
h/t Manbird
 
 
Sylvia Plath
 
 
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky ——
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly call out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness ——
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness — blackness and silence
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 19, 2022 - 12:16pm

Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality.

James Joyce

 

I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.

Steven Wright

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Aug 18, 2022 - 9:28am

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Jul 4, 2022 - 7:38am

 Lazy8 wrote:
Written a year ago and read at my mother-in-law's memorial service by the author. My Grandmother's Garden by M. Bessac I am bunches of wildflowers with their roots ripped up
I am the weeds your mother cannot get rid of
And the stained red poppies, held in place with a cup
I am the big willow tree, who watched you learn to love
I am the California sweet peas, so stubborn as to only grow in the summer
The orange tinted daffodils your father bought ...so long ago
The mistletoe your little sister always takes down for Mummer
I am the thorn-prone ivy that only grows in the snow
I am everywhere, it is time you know
For when it is my time to go
I will be anywhere, everywhere in that lush green paseo

 
{#Good-vibes}
Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 3, 2022 - 8:14pm

 Lazy8 wrote:

Written a year ago and read at my mother-in-law's memorial service by the author.

My Grandmother's Garden by M. Bessac

I am bunches of wildflowers with their roots ripped up
I am the weeds your mother cannot get rid of
And the stained red poppies, held in place with a cup
I am the big willow tree, who watched you learn to love
I am the California sweet peas, so stubborn as to only grow in the summer
The orange tinted daffodils your father bought ...so long ago
The mistletoe your little sister always takes down for Mummer
I am the thorn-prone ivy that only grows in the snow
I am everywhere, it is time you know
For when it is my time to go
I will be anywhere, everywhere in that lush green paseo





Lazy8

Lazy8 Avatar

Location: The Gallatin Valley of Montana
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 3, 2022 - 8:02pm

Written a year ago and read at my mother-in-law's memorial service by the author.

My Grandmother's Garden by M. Bessac

I am bunches of wildflowers with their roots ripped up
I am the weeds your mother cannot get rid of
And the stained red poppies, held in place with a cup
I am the big willow tree, who watched you learn to love
I am the California sweet peas, so stubborn as to only grow in the summer
The orange tinted daffodils your father bought ...so long ago
The mistletoe your little sister always takes down for Mummer
I am the thorn-prone ivy that only grows in the snow
I am everywhere, it is time you know
For when it is my time to go
I will be anywhere, everywhere in that lush green paseo

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 30, 2022 - 6:50am

On the 747

by Malena Morling

As soon as I sat down
the seven year old girl
offered me gum
and showed me a postcard
of the airplane we were in.
She was writing her mother
whom she had just left at the gate,
smearing her love
in blue magic marker.
Then she pulled out a drawing
she had made of the wind
and one of a cloud
and a man who had ladders
for legs and eight arms
extending eight hands.
After the heavy body of the plane
lifted off the ground,
she held my hand and talked
about her flute teacher's birds
and the eels she had bought
in a bait store and let loose
on the beach, each one
slithering into the dark
of the green waves,
returning to what she said
she could not imagine.

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 28, 2022 - 1:18pm

The best defense is offensive

The turkey vulture,
a shy bird ungainly on the ground
but massively graceful in flight,
responds to attack
uniquely.
Men have contempt for this scavenger
because he eats without killing.
When an enemy attacks,
the turkey vulture vomits:
the shock and disgust of the predator
are usually sufficient
to effect his escape.
He loses only his dinner,
easily replaces.
All day I have been thinking
how to adapt
this method of resistance.
Sometimes only the stark
will to disgust
prevents our being consumed:
there are clearly times
when we must make a stink
to survive.

~Marge Piercy
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 28, 2022 - 11:35am

 Antigone wrote:

Marge Piercy: Right To Life

A woman is not a basket you place
your buns in to keep them warm. Not a brood
hen you can slip duck eggs under.
Not the purse holding the coins of your
descendants till you spend them in wars.
Not a bank where your genes gather interest
and interesting mutations in the tainted
rain, any more than you are.

You plant corn and you harvest
it to eat or sell. You put the lamb
in the pasture to fatten and haul it in to
butcher for chops. You slice the mountain
in two for a road and gouge the high plains
for coal and the waters run muddy for
miles and years. Fish die but you do not
call them yours unless you wished to eat them.

Now you legislate mineral rights in a woman.
You lay claim to her pastures for grazing,
fields for growing babies like iceberg
lettuce. You value children so dearly
that none ever go hungry, none weep
with no one to tend them when mothers
work, none lack fresh fruit,
none chew lead or cough to death and your
orphanages are empty. Every noon the best
restaurants serve poor children steaks.
At this moment at nine o’clock a partera
is performing a table top abortion on an
unwed mother in Texas who can’t get
Medicaid any longer. In five days she will die
of tetanus and her little daughter will cry
and be taken away. Next door a husband
and wife are sticking pins in the son
they did not want. They will explain
for hours how wicked he is,
how he wants discipline.

We are all born of woman, in the rose
of the womb we suckled our mother’s blood
and every baby born has a right to love
like a seedling to sun. Every baby born
unloved, unwanted, is a bill that will come
due in twenty years with interest, an anger
that must find a target, a pain that will
beget pain. A decade downstream a child
screams, a woman falls, a synagogue is torched,
a firing squad is summoned, a button
is pushed and the world burns.

I will choose what enters me, what becomes
of my flesh. Without choice, no politics,
no ethics lives. I am not your cornfield,
not your uranium mine, not your calf
for fattening, not your cow for milking.
You may not use me as your factory.
Priests and legislators do not hold shares
in my womb or my mind.
This is my body. If I give it to you
I want it back. My life
is a non-negotiable demand.

 
{#Clap}
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 28, 2022 - 5:16am

Marge Piercy: Right To Life

A woman is not a basket you place
your buns in to keep them warm. Not a brood
hen you can slip duck eggs under.
Not the purse holding the coins of your
descendants till you spend them in wars.
Not a bank where your genes gather interest
and interesting mutations in the tainted
rain, any more than you are.

You plant corn and you harvest
it to eat or sell. You put the lamb
in the pasture to fatten and haul it in to
butcher for chops. You slice the mountain
in two for a road and gouge the high plains
for coal and the waters run muddy for
miles and years. Fish die but you do not
call them yours unless you wished to eat them.

Now you legislate mineral rights in a woman.
You lay claim to her pastures for grazing,
fields for growing babies like iceberg
lettuce. You value children so dearly
that none ever go hungry, none weep
with no one to tend them when mothers
work, none lack fresh fruit,
none chew lead or cough to death and your
orphanages are empty. Every noon the best
restaurants serve poor children steaks.
At this moment at nine o’clock a partera
is performing a table top abortion on an
unwed mother in Texas who can’t get
Medicaid any longer. In five days she will die
of tetanus and her little daughter will cry
and be taken away. Next door a husband
and wife are sticking pins in the son
they did not want. They will explain
for hours how wicked he is,
how he wants discipline.

We are all born of woman, in the rose
of the womb we suckled our mother’s blood
and every baby born has a right to love
like a seedling to sun. Every baby born
unloved, unwanted, is a bill that will come
due in twenty years with interest, an anger
that must find a target, a pain that will
beget pain. A decade downstream a child
screams, a woman falls, a synagogue is torched,
a firing squad is summoned, a button
is pushed and the world burns.

I will choose what enters me, what becomes
of my flesh. Without choice, no politics,
no ethics lives. I am not your cornfield,
not your uranium mine, not your calf
for fattening, not your cow for milking.
You may not use me as your factory.
Priests and legislators do not hold shares
in my womb or my mind.
This is my body. If I give it to you
I want it back. My life
is a non-negotiable demand.

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 26, 2022 - 9:04am

For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid

There is a country to cross you will
find in the corner of your eye, in
the quick slip of your foot—air far
down, a snap that might have caught.
And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing
voice that finds its way by being
afraid. That country is there, for us,
carried as it is crossed. What you fear
will not go away: it will take you into
yourself and bless you and keep you.
That’s the world, and we all live there.

miamizsun

miamizsun Avatar

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


Posted: Jun 21, 2022 - 6:43pm






oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 21, 2022 - 5:23pm

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

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


Posted: May 7, 2022 - 7:11am

You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come, to take you back.
 
Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.
 
Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.
 
Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.
 
Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
 
Be excessively gentle with yourself.
 
John O'Donohue
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 16, 2022 - 5:26am

Elegy
Patrick Cabello Hansel
 
On your face, your beloved face,
your sweat skinned face, the remnant
grace of mother, father hidden there,
the wind of years, the triumphs
and the savagery, on your springtime
harvest nightfall sunlit face, let me
linger there. Let me touch it as
a baby, my fingers unfolded gently,
my voice harboring no words, let
me touch my face to your face,
Father, let us be here, face to face,
in this land we have sown and reaped,
in that time that has no wind, no
words to worry, let us touch,
Father, let us linger, let us be.
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 8, 2022 - 4:49am

Dark Charms
by Dorianne Laux
 
Eventually the future shows up everywhere:
those burly summers and unslept nights in deep
lines and dark splotches, thinning skin.
Here's the corner store grown to a condo,
the bike reduced to one spinning wheel,
the ghost of a dog that used to be, her trail
no longer trodden, just a dip in the weeds.
The clear water we drank as thirsty children
still runs through our veins. Stars we saw then
we still see now, only fewer, dimmer, less often.
The old tunes play and continue to move us
in spite of our learning, the wraith of romance,
lost innocence, literature, the death of the poets.
We continue to speak, if only in whispers,
to something inside us that longs to be named.
We name it the past and drag it behind us,
bag like a lung filled with shadow and song,
dreams of running, the keys to lost names.
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Mar 7, 2022 - 5:14am

NEXT YEAR
by Gary Johnson
 
When we win the lottery next year,
Let’s buy a flat in Paris, France,
And I will worship you, my dear,
In lovely rooms with flowering plants.
Me, a somewhat endearing old relic,
A jowly but still charming man,
And you my darling, rather angelic
Reclining prettily on a silk divan.
 
When I’m tired and don’t feel well,
Pack me off to a nice hotel
With Egyptian sheets and fresh-cut flowers
And room service is 24 hours.
When I die, which I will do,
Wear black for a month or two,
Then look around, find someone new.
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

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


Posted: Feb 25, 2022 - 4:37am

Everything but God
by Anne Pierson Wiese
 
In Europe you can see cathedrals
from far away. As you drive toward them
across the country they are visible—stony
and roosted on the land—even before the towns
that surround them. In New York you come
upon them with no warning, turn a corner
and there one is: on 5th Avenue St. Patrick's,
spiny and white as a shell in a gift shop; dark
St. Agnes lost near a canal and some housing
projects in Brooklyn; or St. John the Divine,
listed in every guidebook yet seeming always
like a momentary vision on Amsterdam
Avenue, with its ragged halo of trees, wide stone
steps ascending directly out of traffic.
 
Lately I have found myself unable
to pass by. The candles' anonymous
wishes waver and flame near the entrance, bright
numerous, transitory and eternal
as a migration: the birds that fly away
are never exactly the same as those that return.
The gray, flowering arches' ribs rise
until they fade, the bones so large and old
they belong to an undetected time
on earth. Here and there people's small backs
in prayer, the windowed saints' robes' orchid
glow, the shadows—ghosts of a long nocturnal
snow from a sky below when we did not yet
exist, with our questions tender as burns.
Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 207, 208, 209  Next