RollingStone• Show poetry

How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

          ~ Bob Dylan


You can't always get
What you want
But if you try sometimes
You just might find
You get what you need...
 
        ~ The Rolling Stones

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                    A woman drew her long black hair out tight
                                    And fiddled whisper music on those strings
                                    And bats with baby faces on the violet light
                                    Whistled, and beat their wings...

                                        from "The Waste Land"
                                                        by T.S. Eliot

Night Frogs

I wake and find myself in the woods, far from
          the castle.
The train hurtles through lonely Louisiana at night.
The sleep turns to the wall, delicate
aircraft dive toward earth.

A woman whispers to me, urges me to speak truths.
"I am afraid that you won't be honest with me."
Half or more of the moon rolls on a shadow.
Owls talk at night, loons wheel cries through
           lower waters.

Hoof marks turn up--something with hooves
           tramples
the grasses while the horses are asleep.
A shape flat and four feet long slips under the door
and lies exhausted on the floor in the morning.

When I look back, there is a blind spot in the car.
What is it in my father I keep not noticing?
I cannot remember years of my childhood.
Some parts of me I cannot find now.

I intended that; I threw some parts of me away
at ten; others at twenty; a lot at twenty-eight.
I wanted to thin myself out as a wire is thinned.
Is there enough left of me now to be honest?

The lizard moves stiffly over November roads.
How much I am drawn toward my parents!
           I walk back
and forth, looking toward the old landing.
Night frogs give out the croak of the planet turning.

~by Robert Bly

                                                   links to my favorite poets:
                                        t.s. eliot , pablo neruda , philip larkin ,
                                              william carlos williams ,
                                federico garcia lorca , charles bukowski ,
                                      anna akhmatova , and bob dylan .....






                   
                                                                         

          This is the dead land
          This is cactus land
          Here the stone images
          Are raised, here they receive
          The supplication of a dead man's hand
          Under the twinkle of a fading star.

          Is it like this
          In death's other kingdom
          Waking alone
          At the hour when we are
          Trembling with tenderness
          Lips that would kiss
          Form prayers to broken stone.

                          ~ T.S. Eliot                                  




                                                                                                                                   
                                                                            The End!