So I'll make this short and just share some poems I like:
The Darker Sooner
Then came the darker sooner,
came the later lower.
We were no longer a sweeter-here
happily-ever-after. We were after ever.
We were farther and further.
More was the word we used for harder.
Lost was our standard-bearer.
Our gods were fallen faster,
and fallen larger.
The day was duller, duller
was disaster. Our charge was error.
Instead of leader we had louder,
instead of lover, never. And over this river
broke the winter’s black weather.
Leisure, Hannah, Does Not Agree with You - by Hannah Gamble
—After Catullus
My house disgusted me, so I slept in a tent.
My tent disgusted me, so I slept in the grass. The grass disgusted me,
so I slept in my body, which I strung like a hammock from two ropes.
My body disgusted me, so I carved myself out of it.
My use of knives disgusted me because it was an act of violence.
My weakness disgusted me because “Hannah” means “hammer.”
The meaning of my name disgusted me because I’d rather be known
as beautiful. My vanity disgusted me because I am a scholar.
My scholarship disgusted me because knowledge is empty.
My emptiness disgusted me because I wanted to be whole.
My wholeness would have disgusted me because to be whole
is to be smug. Still, I tried to understand wholeness
as the inclusiveness of all activities: I walked out into the yard,
trying to vomit and drink milk simultaneously. I tried to sleep
while smoking a cigar. I have enough regrets to crack all the plumbing.
I’m whole only in that I’ve built my person from every thought I’ve ever loved.
Days
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
Yeah...people are seriously uncomfortable with that for some reason. Whatever, they can suck it. This is about you, not them.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading me. I'm reading your blog and it's excellent.
DeleteThank you for sharing no matter.
ReplyDeleteThank you for being so honest.
Yet giving us music for our minds.
The poetry is beautiful
'as
you
are
always.
How else to be?
DeleteHey! It's YOUR TURN! YOU can choose! You own your MOOD!
ReplyDeleteauntie m
Tell my compadres
DeleteYou are entitled to be and behave as you wish.
ReplyDeleteYou are the only one that knows what you are going through.
Time is a good medicine and think about that one day this will be over.
Besides I saw you modelling with different hats and scarves and you miss some styles from Italy!
I have to provide immediately but I need your address ( can you send it to me via Facebook?)
Ciao Amy, sei bella dentro e fuori ( you are beautiful inside and outside)
Here's another. I wish I could remember it.
ReplyDeleteTHE GUEST HOUSE
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
-- Jelaluddin Rumi
Oh yes. I love this one! Do you mind if I put it on my blog? Thank you - you know me
DeleteRumi belongs to all of us.
DeleteThinking of you, often. Your post from yesterday (Sunday) makes me think of Emily Dickinson. The dread. New meaning to the word "dreadful" Dread is dreadful.
Here is a poem by Dickinson:
I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I’m accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—
I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—
I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when ’twas time to see—
He’d be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they’d stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They’re here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums—
It's great that you have the energy to blog all your happenings. I hate this crap for you. Wish I could wave a magic wand, and poof you'd be all better. I think of you every day and know I'd be much worse in handling this. It sucks and I feel the suck for you.
ReplyDeleteOh you'd rise to the occasion, you'd be ok. Don't worry too much - I am ok and you will be too. Come by.
Delete