where we played
Cow patties baked
in the dog day heat
while we picked
what our Mama
had promised she'd turn
come supper time.
thorny hells, we risked an arm.
Then a leg. Half a torso
we stood stubborn as martyrs
we pulled our mortal flesh free,
not to spill what
By then it was noon
and so hot we lost faith
and walked home,
displaying our blackberries
domed in the pot
the way church deacons hoisted
while we sang "Gloria Patri."
The gnats smelled us coming
and haloed our heads
when we reached the backyard
where splayed in the cool dirt
they'd dug under lantana bushes
our daddy's hounds
snored like the back pews each Sunday
11-25-2012, 09:57 PM #291A window to the soulGuest
11-25-2012, 10:03 PM #292
@SilkRoad will not be at all surprised to see me post this here. Yes, I am still obsessed with it.
By Agha Shahid Ali
Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar—Laurence Hope
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight?
Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?
Those “Fabrics of Cashmere—” “to make Me beautiful—”
“Trinket”—to gem—“Me to adorn—How tell”—tonight?
I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates—
A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.
God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar—
All the archangels—their wings frozen—fell tonight.
Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken;
Only we can convert the infidel tonight.
Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities
multiply me at once under your spell tonight.
He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He’s left open—for God—the doors of Hell tonight.
In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed.
No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight.
God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day—
I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.
Executioners near the woman at the window.
Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.
The hunt is over, and I hear the Call to Prayer
fade into that of the wounded gazelle tonight.
My rivals for your love—you’ve invited them all?
This is mere insult, this is no farewell tonight.
And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee—
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.Originally Posted by Nørrsken impersonating EJCC
1w2/7w6/3w4 so/sx (enneagram)
lawful good (D&D) / ravenclaw + wampus (HP) / boros legion (M:TG)
conscientious > sensitive > serious (oldham)
want to ask me something? go for it!
11-26-2012, 05:26 AM #293
Here's a poem I've been appreciating lately.
SHADOWS (D H Lawrence)
And if tonight my soul may find her peace
in sleep, and sink in good oblivion,
and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower
then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
And if, as weeks go round, in the dark of the moon
my spirit darkens and goes out, and soft strange gloom
pervades my movements and my thoughts and words
then I shall know that I am walking still
with God, we are close together now the moon’s in shadow.
And if, as autumn deepens and darkens
I feel the pain of falling leaves, and stems that break in storms
and trouble and dissolution and distress
and then the softness of deep shadows folding,
folding around my soul and spirit, around my lips
so sweet, like a swoon, or more like the drowse of a low, sad song
singing darker than the nightingale, on, on to the solstice
and the silence of short days, the silence of the year, the shadow,
then I shall know that my life is moving still
with the dark earth, and drenched
with the deep oblivion of earth’s lapse and renewal.
And if, in the changing phases of man’s life
I fall in sickness and in misery
my wrists seem broken and my heart seems dead
and strength is gone, and my life
is only the leavings of a life:
and still, among it all, snatches of lovely oblivion, and snatches of renewal
odd, wintry flowers upon the withered stem, yet new, strange flowers
such as my life has not brought forth before, new blossoms of me
then I must know that still
I am in the hands of the unknown God,
he is breaking me down to his own oblivion
to send me forth on a new morning, a new man.Female
Enneagram 6w5 sp/sx
01-12-2013, 03:44 PM #294
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.Take the weakest thing in you
And then beat the bastards with it
And always hold on when you get love
So you can let go when you give it
01-14-2013, 08:07 AM #295
Our virtues are all social; if,
Deprived of solitude, you chafe,
It's clear you're not the virtuous sort.
Viciously, then, I lock my door.
The gas-fire breathes. The wind outside
Ushers in evening rain. Once more
Supports me on its giant palm;
And like a sea-anemone
Or simple snail, there cautiously
Unfolds, emerges, what I am.
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.
— Wendell Berry
01-16-2013, 04:31 PM #296
I may get two of these lines tattooed, leaning more with stanza 1
It tears me to pieces at times... My favourite poem of all time.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
- William Ernest Henley"I am making a friendship application and 'Do you think JUNO (film) is awesome?' is a compulsory question..."
~A Malazan Fallen~
7w6 4w5 9w8 - 749 Magical Thinker
01-19-2013, 01:27 AM #297
I recently remembered this poem/song by Teresita Fernández, from my childhood. She's a Cuban singer/songwriter. This moves me to tears.
"Lo feo" by Teresita Fernández
En una palangana vieja
sembré violetas para ti
y estando cerca del río
en un caracol vacío
cogí un lucero para ti.
En una botella rota
guardé un cocuyo para ti
y en una cerca sin brillo
se enredaba el coralillo
floreciendo para ti.
que nadie quiere mirar
pero si sale la luna
tus latas van a brillar.
Alita de cucaracha
llevada hasta el hormiguero
así quiero que en mi muerte
me lleven al cementerio.
A las cosas que son feas
ponles un poco de amor
y verás que la tristeza
va cambiando de color.
4w3 sx/so ·· ISFP (?) ·· rcu|E|n
gryffindor-ravenclaw ·· chaotic neutral
leo sun ·· scorpius moon ·· earth dragon
metsän ukko halliparta, metsän kultainen kuningas,
ava nyt aittasi avara, luinen lukko lonkahuta!
03-06-2013, 11:19 PM #298
Nostalgia Say Remember Me
At my high school reunion
Years from now
In the old gym
They'll ask, whatever happened to us anyway
I won't have an answer for them
It'll be a shoulder shrug
And a colon backslash face
They'll move on to my son
Or some distant memory which will undoubtedly begin with, "remember that time"
And most likely end with, "those were the days"
And while they move on with their conversations
I will still have a colon backslash face
And my mind will be in a completely different time machine than the prom queen and the class clown
By the end of it all
Have devoted what I can only imagine to be significantly more time than alotted
Thinking about what did ever happen to us anyway
And when I go home to what I anticipate being a beautiful, intellegent, loving wife, girlfriend, fiancee thing
For a moment
Or possibly two moments
Not measure up to you
And I hope she won't notice my colon backslash face
That she'll end up smiling until she falls asleep
The morning after my high school reunion
I will stand in front of my mirror
And for much longer than two moments
I will not measure up
To the man you could have made me
And I will notice
I will start by sucking in my gut
Running my hands through my hair to try and imagine myself with a different style
I will analyze my wardrobe
And half way through auditing my music collection I will fall to the floor
I will cry
And with you in the forefront of my mind
In true movie scene fashion
Whisper to no one
Whatever happened to us anyway
And worse than not having an answer at the reunion
I won't have an answer for myself
In an empty living room
Because I really don't know whatever happened to us anyway
One day we were
The next day we weren't
It was so adult
I was so civil
Even our break-up will be the best I ever had
The day before my high school reunion
I will cut my hair
Trim my arm pits
And clip my beard
I will iron a suit
Pick a good tie
And I imagine
In front of a mirrror
Be proud of the man I have become
In the years going forward
And leading up to that high school reunion
As a matter of life's course
Have no other occasion
To ask myself
Whatever happened to us anyways
But never the less
Years from now
Will leave me paralyzed
And even if
I am not alone
My pillow will remember
For one night
Or maybe even two nights
How to smell like you
And my arms
If only for a half a moment
Or possibly one whole moment
With no luck
Reach for you
-Michael DeVoe“The first progressive step by a mind overwhelmed by the strangeness of things is to realize that this feeling of strangeness is shared with all men and that human reality, in its entirety, suffers from the distance which separates it from the rest of the universe." -Albert Camus
03-07-2013, 10:18 AM #299
03-11-2013, 09:05 PM #300
- Join Date
- Mar 2013
- 4w5 sp/sx
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