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#Post#: 120374--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: August 23, 2022, 1:42 pm
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I need to get a copy of Leaves of Grass. Can't believe I've
never read it.
To a Stranger, by Walt Whitman.
Passing stranger! you do not know how
longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to
me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy
with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid,
affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or
a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body
has become not yours only nor left my
body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face,
flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard,
breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you
again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
#Post#: 123374--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: September 5, 2022, 5:31 am
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Some keep the Sabbath going to Church, by Emily Dickinson
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church -
I keep it, staying at Home -
With a Bobolink for a Chorister -
And an Orchard, for a Dome -
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice -
I, just wear my Wings -
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton - sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman -
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last -
I'm going all along.
#Post#: 133797--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: October 14, 2022, 8:30 am
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For everyone who tried on the slipper before Cinderella by
Ariana Brown
(after Anis Mojgani and Audre Lorde)
For those making tea in the soft light of Saturday morning
in the peaceful kitchen
in the cool house
For those with shrunken hearts still trying to love
For those with large hearts trying to forget
For those with terrors they cannot name
upset stomachs and too tight pants
For those who get cut off in traffic
For those who spend all day making an elaborate meal
that turns out mediocre
For those who could not leave
even when they knew they had to
For those who never win the lottery
or become famous
For those getting groceries on Friday nights
There is something you know
about living
that you guard with your life
your one fragile, wonderful life
wonder, as in, awe,
as in, I had no idea I would be here now.
For those who make plans and those who don’t
For those driving across the country to a highway that knows
them
For the routes we take in the dark, trusting
For the roads for the woods for the dead humming in prayer
For an old record and a strong sun
For teeth bared to the wind
a pulse in the chest
a body making love to itself
There is every reason to hate it here
There is a list of things making it bearable:
your friend’s shoulder Texas barbecue a new book
a loud song a strong song a highway that knows you
sweet tea an orange cat a helping hand
an unforgettable dinner
a laugh that escapes you and deflates you
like a pink balloon left soft with room
for goodness to take hold
For those who have looked in the mirror and begged
For those with weak knees and an attitude
For those called “sensitive” or “too much”
For those not called enough
For the times you needed and went without
For the photo of you as a child
quietly icing cupcakes your hair a crackling thunderstorm
Love is coming.
It’s on its way.
Look—
#Post#: 134021--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: Paloma Date: October 14, 2022, 10:33 pm
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HTML https://podvine.com/podcast/poemaday/ariana-brown-for-everyone-who-tried-on-the-slipper-before-cinderella
The poet reading her work and talking about the inspiration for
it.
#Post#: 139675--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: November 3, 2022, 4:59 pm
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November, by Alex Dimitrov
No later than now could we find an ending
for what would have been rivers.
And how someone forgot to wish us well,
and how surely we went on even if they had.
What do you remember of the future?
Reading the news has not prepared me for myself
though I must look busy. Chasing a lover,
some friends, my entire family
and somehow I've ended up here.
Perhaps how the planets must feel
as they look at each other,
far enough to tell any secret,
as we're close enough
to say nothing about ourselves
to continue to live. And why?
Is the first snow just snow.
It feels like more. It leaves an impression.
I leave the bed without you,
I've chosen to leave more than that, too.
Enough of despair!
This is the red sweater I wear to the party,
vying for attention. Hailing a cab home
where it's never once taken me.
I was made here but it could have been anywhere.
That's the thing--the details--
the details promising meaning don't hold.
They've seldom been whole.
A beautiful couple still captivates me.
Long dinners extend life.
It's often the truth
that we have to be people, what else.
And I'm saving something
for next time I see you
so please do remind me,
I do want to tell you.
It was always November there.
#Post#: 139743--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: VanillaBean Date: November 3, 2022, 10:31 pm
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From Northern Elegies, By Anna Akhmatova, Leningrad, 1944
I, like a river,
Have been turned aside by this harsh age.
I am a substitute. My life has flowed
Into another channel
And I do not recognize my shores.
O, how many fine sights I have missed,
How many curtains have risen without me
And fallen too. How many of my friends
I have not met even once in my life,
How many city skylines
Could have drawn tears from my eyes,
I who know only the one city
And by touch, in my sleep, I could find it…
And how many poems I have not written,
Whose secret chorus swirls around my head
And possibly one day
Will stifle me…
I know the beginnings and the ends of things,
And life after the end, and something
It isn’t necessary to remember now.
And another woman has usurped
The place that ought to have been mine,
And bears my rightful name,
Leaving me a nickname, with which I’ve done,
I like to think, all that was possible.
But I, alas, won’t lie in my own grave.
But sometimes a madcap air in spring,
Or a combination of words in a chance book,
Or somebody’s smile, suddenly
Draws me into that non-existent life.
In such a year would such have taken place,
Something else in another: traveling, seeing,
Thinking, remembering, entering a new love
Like entering a mirror, with a dull sense
Of treason, and a wrinkle that only yesterday
Was absent…
But if, from that life, I could step aside,
And see my life such as it is, today,
Then at last I’d know what envy means…
#Post#: 142323--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: November 13, 2022, 8:01 pm
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Untitled, by Xin Qiji
In youth I knew nothing of the taste of sorrow
I liked to climb high towers,
I liked to climb high towers
To conjure up a bit of sorrow to make new verse.
Now I know only too well the taste of sorrow.
I begin to speak but pause,
I begin to speak but pause
And say instead, "My, what a cool and lovely autumn."
#Post#: 154515--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: January 6, 2023, 10:21 am
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off the shore of oneself as in... by Renia White
sometimes you can’t stay on your own mainland.
some story of exile, unique each time: a home
you feel apart from rather than of
the re-negotiation among space and rulership.
an aimless god, his insistence on
a fantasy of order
the number you call to confirm the time, that tells
you
where to go by putting you there—horizon beyond
the heart you know best—so it hurts, so you learn.
the aimless god in you, his lucite throne,
the space you’ve made, what you could
imagine from whence you came
#Post#: 173501--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: March 22, 2023, 6:28 am
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LOVE AFTER LOVE
by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
#Post#: 178848--------------------------------------------------
Re: Poems
By: LesserGoddess Date: April 11, 2023, 9:15 pm
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dont know the title of this. by Siegfried Sassoon
Though you have left me, I’m not yet alone:
For what you were befriends the firelit room;
And what you said remains & is my own
To make a living gladness of my gloom
The firelight leaps & shows your empty chair
And all our harmonies of speech are stilled:
But you are with me in the voiceless air
My hands are empty, but my heart is filled.
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