First Poem For You
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
to me, taking you until we’re spent and quiet
on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until
you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; trying...
10-03-2013, 01:02 PM #321
10-03-2013, 01:13 PM #322'Consciousness is not simply a sensory-perceptual affair, a matter of mental imagery, as the contents of our mind would have us believe. It is deeply enmeshed with the brain mechanisms that automatically promote action readiness' - Jaak Panksepp
10-03-2013, 02:43 PM #323
Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light like the careful undressing of love.
It will blind you with tears like a lover.
It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful as we are,
for as long as we are.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.
Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife.
10-03-2013, 02:52 PM #324
Rain by Don Patterson
I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;
one long thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame
to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,
and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,
so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,
I think to when we opened cold
on a rain-dark gutter, running gold
with the neon of a drugstore sign,
and I’d read into its blazing line:
forget the ink, the milk, the blood—
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain’s own sons and daughters
and none of this, none of this matters.
10-06-2013, 12:21 PM #325
Ok, this is a quote not a poem, but I can't find the quote thread for the life of me.
"Now, nothing should be able to harm a man except himself. Nothing should be able to rob a man at all. What a man really has, is what is in him. What is outside of him should be a matter of no importance."You hem me in -- behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
10-12-2013, 10:15 AM #326
- Join Date
- Oct 2013
- 4w5 sp
- INFj Ne
someone else may have posted it and it's not a poem, but still:
"I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane."
10-24-2013, 05:36 PM #327
Psychoneurotics Manifesto 1972 brochure
Be greeted, psychoneuroics!
For you see sensitivity in the insensitivity of the world, uncertainty among the world’s certainties.
For you often feel others as you feel yourselves.
For you feel the anxiety of the world and its bottomless narrowness and self-assurance.
For your phobia of washing yours hands from the dirt of the world, for your fear of being locked in the world’s limiations, for your fear of the absurdity of existence.
For your subtlety in the not telling others what you see in them.
For your awkardness in dealing with practical things, and for your practicalness in dealing with unknown things, for your transcendental realism and lack of everyday realism, for your exclusieness and fear of losing close friends, for your creativity and ecstasy, for your maladjustments to “that which is” and adjustments to “that which ought to be” for your great but unutilized abilities.
For the belated appreciation of the real value of your greatness which never allows the appreciation of the greatness of those who will come after you.
For your being treated instead of treating others, for your heavenly power being forever pushed down by brutal force, for that which is prescient, unsaid, infinite in you.
For the lonliness and strangeness of your ways.
Be greeted."The unconscious mind should be called the super-conconsious mind."
11-06-2013, 03:03 PM #328
So can we post our own poems? Or is there another poem thread? (Or perhaps I should start one!)
Funny your assumptions
Silly what you conclude
I am not a box
In your compartmentalized world
Funny you would give advice
For something not in your skill
Funny you would assume
I would swallow your pill (hah right)
Assuming my friendship
Can be conveniently "shelved"
Is setting yourself up
For dissapointment and hell
For my choice is long made
When you made the choice
To continue to hurt me
When I asked you to hear my voice
When I asked you to stop
And you didn't stop
That's when our friendship ended
When you showed your true colors
That you were never a friend.
You're not my friend.It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. ~e.e. cummings
7w6, 4w5, 9w8
11-20-2013, 09:08 AM #329
Last night you kissed me
Hugged me tightly
A bond everlasting
Comforting and right
You've loved me
Through it all
Put my heart
On a pedestal
Caring for it
Tenderly and carefully
I will hold your hand
I won't let go
I will make up for any
I will energize your soul
Until you burst
You are deserving
And so much more
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. ~e.e. cummings
7w6, 4w5, 9w8
11-21-2013, 11:15 AM #330
To A Violet on All Saint's Day
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Belated wanderer of the ways of spring,
Lost in the chill of grim November rain,
Would I could read the message that you bring
And find in it the antidote for pain.
Does some sad spirit out beyond the day,
Far looking to the hours forever dead,
Send you a tender offering to lay
Upon the grave of us, the living dead?
Or does some brighter spirit, unforlorn,
Send you, my little sister of the wood,
To say to some one on a cloudful morn,
“Life lives through death, my brother, all is good?”
With meditative hearts the others go
The memory of their dead to dress anew.
But, sister mine, bide here that I may know,
Life grows, through death, as beautiful as you.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!
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