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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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