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  1. #291
    A window to the soul


    Blackberry Road

    Piney woods
    where we played

    Cow patties baked
    in the dog day heat

    while we picked
    what our Mama
    had promised she'd turn

    into cobblers
    come supper time.

    Bravin those
    thorny hells, we risked an arm.
    Then a leg. Half a torso

    till trapped
    we stood stubborn as martyrs

    awhile before
    we pulled our mortal flesh free,
    praying hard

    not to spill what
    we'd gathered.

    By then it was noon
    and so hot we lost faith
    and walked home,

    scratching bug-bites
    and snag-wounds,

    displaying our blackberries
    domed in the pot
    the way church deacons hoisted

    collection plates
    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
    before Benediction.

  2. #292
    just a vessel EJCC's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2008
    173 so/sx


    @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.
    EJCC: "The Big Questions in my life right now: 1) What am I willing to live with? 2) What do I have to live with? 3) What can I change for the better?"
    Coriolis: "Is that the ESTJ Serenity Prayer?"

    ESTJ - LSE - ESTj (mbti/socionics)
    1w2/7w6/3w4 so/sx (enneagram)
    want to ask me something? go for it!

  3. #293
    Lay the coin on my tongue SilkRoad's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2009
    6w5 sp/sx



    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.
    Enneagram 6w5 sp/sx


  4. #294
    LL P. Stewie Beorn's Avatar
    Join Date
    Dec 2008


    "Pied Beauty"
    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

  5. #295
    meh Salomé's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    5w4 sx/sp


    Quote Originally Posted by Wind-Up Rex View Post
    Slums, years, have buried you. I would not dare
    Console you if I could. What can be said,
    Except that suffering is exact, but where
    Desire takes charge, readings will grow erratic?
    For you would hardly care
    That you were less deceived, out on that bed,
    Than he was, stumbling up the breathless stair
    To burst into fulfillment's desolate attic.

    -Philip Larkin
    Larkin, the introvert's poet

    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
    Uncontradicting solitude
    Supports me on its giant palm;
    And like a sea-anemone
    Or simple snail, there cautiously
    Unfolds, emerges, what I am.


    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
    Quote Originally Posted by Ivy View Post
    Gosh, the world looks so small from up here on my high horse of menstruation.

  6. #296
    Member DaniaWania's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2013
    749 sp/sx


    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~


    58% RightBrained
    7w6 4w5 9w8 - 749 Magical Thinker

  7. #297
    Kultainen Kuningas Devil Flamingo's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2010
    4w3 sx/so


    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.

    Basurero, basurero
    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!

  8. #298
    Member IllusoryReverie's Avatar
    Join Date
    Feb 2013
    4w5 sp/sx


    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
    Upward palms
    And a colon backslash face
    They'll move on to my son
    Or work
    Or school
    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
    I will
    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
    She will
    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
    I will
    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
    I will
    Be proud of the man I have become

    In the years going forward
    And leading up to that high school reunion
    I will
    As a matter of life's course
    Have no other occasion
    To ask myself
    Whatever happened to us anyways
    But never the less
    One night
    Years from now
    That question
    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

  9. #299
    No moss growing on me Giggly's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    2 sx/so


    All of the Rumi poems about love!

    They're so old and I love it. Here is a sample

  10. #300
    Join Date
    Mar 2013
    4w5 sp/sx


    Quote Originally Posted by wheelchairdoug View Post
    The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

    When despair grows in me
    and I wake in the middle of 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 for their light. For a time
    I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
    This is one of my favorite poems.

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