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#Post#: 98081--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: Itopian Date: May 24, 2022, 5:33 pm
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Written a while back, in the wake of what should have been the
last of these, before the next, before the next, before the
next...
Priorities
She said, I know you're busy, daddy
but I need your help
because my friends are dying
and we are all afraid
every day.
We wanted to be learning
multiplication and fractions
and silent e and ght
and we are learning
how to hide and be silent
and what things on the teacher's desk
will fit in our hands
so we can hit the shooter
and make the shooting stop
just long enough
for the other class
to get away alive
and I need to know
what you did
when you were in school
to keep from screaming each night
when you close your eyes
and you can't make yourself
be silent in your dreams
and the shooter finds you.
He blinked, and looked
through teary eyes
at his only love
and said, It's okay
I know you're scared
and I know it's a terrible time
and I want you to know,
as he clutched his precious
darling
love
to his chest,
that I will never let anything
anything
happen to separate us.
I'm so glad, she whispered,
and she leaned her head on his shoulder
and his head snapped back
his eyes red, his lips a thin line of rage,
and he said,
I wasn't talking to you.
#Post#: 98184--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: May 25, 2022, 10:05 am
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HTML https://twitter.com/janaprikryl/status/1529259243605565442
#Post#: 99185--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: May 31, 2022, 6:46 am
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Deconstruction, by Mary Ruefle
I think the sirens in The Odyssey sang The Odyssey,
for there is nothing more seductive, more terrible,
than the story of our own life, the one we do not
want to hear and will do anything to listen to.
#Post#: 106035--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: June 28, 2022, 8:50 pm
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On September 14th, Dante’s Death Day by Pierre Joris
gone 700 years today
leaving us here, in the
middle kingdom
Purgatory
which was Paradise once
but which we soiled
and are about to
turn into hell, or
at least an Inferno
for homo sap sap, the
disappearing species
— if it comes to that —
there’s life
left, there will be
life left
and right
it will move
on, even without us
it will rejoice in us
gone — I can hear the
birds celebrating
the trees too
the air cooling
the sea cooling
it will be the real paradise
the one sans-sapiens,
that arrogant inter-
ference!
#Post#: 106519--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: June 30, 2022, 4:43 pm
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excerpt from September 1st, 1939 by W. H. Auden
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
#Post#: 107268--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: July 5, 2022, 9:49 pm
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Collective Nouns for Humans in the Wild, by Kathy Fish
A group of mothers is a tapestry. A group of toddlers, a
jubilation (see also: a bewailing) A group of librarians is an
enlightenment. A group of visual artists is a bioluminescence. A
group of short story writers is a Flannery. A group of musicians
is - a band.
A resplendence of poets.
A beacon of scientists.
A raft of social workers.
A group of first responders is a valiance. A group of peaceful
protestors is a dream. A group of special education teachers is
a transcendance. A group of neonatal nurses is a divinity. A
group of hospice workers, a grace.
A group of humans in the wild, gathered and feeling good,
previously an exhilaration, now: a target.
A target of concert-goers.
A target of movie-goers.
A target of dancers.
A group of schoolchildren is a target.
#Post#: 109474--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: July 15, 2022, 8:41 am
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A Song at the End of the World, by Czeslaw Milosz
On the day the world ends
A bee circles the clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea.
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.
On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.
And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits the rose,
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.
Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
There will be no other end of the world.
There will be no other end of the world.
Warsaw, 1944
#Post#: 110907--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: July 20, 2022, 1:43 pm
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Not a poem, but still good.
"So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your
heart.
Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their
view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life,
perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to
make your life long and its purpose in the service of your
people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over
the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when
meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely
place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you
arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of
living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies
only in yourself. Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the
wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When it
comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are
filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes
they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives
over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home."
-- Tecumseh
#Post#: 114213--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: animaniactoo Date: July 31, 2022, 6:14 pm
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Give me away
“When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give to them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live in your eyes
And not on your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands
By letting
Bodies touch bodies
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away”
― Merrit Malloy
#Post#: 116836--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: Thetis099 Date: August 11, 2022, 9:19 am
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Love
By May Sarton
Fragile as a spider's web
Hanging in space
Between tall grasses,
It is torn again and again.
A passing dog
Or simply the wind can do it.
Several times a day
I gather myself together
And spin it again.
Spiders are patient weavers.
They never give up.
And who knows
What keeps them at it?
Hunger, no doubt,
And hope.
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