Graphic artist unknown
A gift I was given...
http://davidwhyte.bigmindcatalyst.com/cgi/bmc.pl
Poetry forms:
www.poetry-online.org/poetry-terms.htm
Read this poem, people...
~ Marc Creamore
www.flickr.com/photos/haleyhyatt/448650537/
art: "Solitude" by Frederick Lord Leighton
Me ~ May 1, 2008
Information on published books of poetry,
both my friends and my own
http://www.allpoetry.com/poem/2887080
I am a proud member of:
"If You Forget Me"
by Pablo Neruda
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine"
Magnetic North
Magnetic North
Ripples form on the lake
in my mind.
They emanate from a swan
that knows the way
to the really me.
Her pen caresses my soul
with the balm of buttered words
when my soul is
dry and
weary.
If words are wings
I fly to her, to swim in clearer
waters, beyond reach
of reproach or commerce.
I stalk her in the leaves
of libraries, vibrant in my need
to be shushed by lips
that whisper
so sweetly.
Breaking Loose From Birth Dates
by shewolfnative
What mystery dumped us
in midlife of our imagination
where we find ourselves
dizzy, spinning, sputtering
that we have so little time
to do so much
words half-strangling us,
need a place to be
like fat round words
trying to find a seat
on an already traveling bus
who shall we blame
when the last poem is not written
because we shorted ourselves
with world-worry
look, sister, the world is waiting
hands outstretched for us,
heads leaned in and listening
for ways to find smoother paths
have we offered that, yet
or have we stumbled, like tumbleweed
tricked into one fence after another
by willful fateful winds
that have blown tattered souls to us
and kept us from spinning wonderfully wild
what chance there is, for one more moving phrase,
we must grasp at and let it fly us
from this dowry of love that has had us
stumble in the first place
into words that bind us, hold us caught
in between that life and this life
where landscape runs red
with dry dear things that left welts
on this home we call our own
uproot yourself, dear heart,
soar wherever wild wings
and deep dear swing of fresh air takes you
what staleness this is that holds its breath
while we hang, half-strung between poems
and birthdates
by Christina Rossetti
"Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad."
If you'd like to donate points, I often feature unknown Poets...
Thank you in advance...
Ancient Chinese curse: "May you live an interesting life."
"Among the Haida Indians of the Pacific Northwest, the verb
for 'making poetry' is the same as the verb 'to breathe'."
~ Tom Robbins, from the book: "Another Roadside Attraction"
- Member since June 15, 2004.
- I'm a infinite ice-cream poet for 52088 comments.
- My mood is
Hope Brings Light to Darkness. - I am a 49 year old woman from Oklahoma (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm a (former) librarian/construction news reporter.
- Visit my homepage at www.myspace.com/105007070
- I support the site as a gold member
