A poem for those who learn to hear the whisper
*Photograph - Three candles
Speak you too,
speak as the last,
say out your say.Speak-
But don’t split off No from Yes.
Give your say this meaning too:
Give it the shadow.Give it shadow enough,
Give it as much
As you know is spread round you from
Midnight to midday and midnight.Look around:
See how things all come alive-
By death! Alive!
Speaks true who speaks shadow.But now the place shrinks, where you stand:
Where now, shadow-stripped, where?
Climb. Grope upwards.
Thinner you grow, less knowable, finer!
Finer: a thread
The star wants to descend on:
So as to swim down below, down here
Where it sees itself shimmer: in the swell
Of wandering words.
Paul Celan
Philosophy, poetry, pondering of the soul: Silhouettes
We drink the air
And breathe the night,
The moment, the flash, the scene, the light, the shine,
The blurred fade…
Where did it go?
Who am I in this strange place,
And what of we?
It was so fragile, that last conclusive moment,
But now…
It’s gone and lost
In the abyss of memories, trials,…
Haiku #7
It is quite unfair.
You’ll see me in your nightmares
while you’re my best dream
h
Lost Generation.
I’m a part of Lost Generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy”
So in thirty years I’ll tell my children
They are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priority straight because
Work
Is more important than
Family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stay together
But this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
Thirty years from now I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope
And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.
Lost Generation by Jonathan Reed
Source: did-you-kno
Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
‘Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.
Shel Silverstein
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’
‘It is bitter — bitter,’ he answered,
‘But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.
Stephen Crane, The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes…
George Gordon Byron
wind says
.
it’s all coming together
to create a great falling apart
this house of cards
and the wind whispering its intention
.
it tells me
say goodbye to the life you imagine
and embrace the life that is
before it’s too late
.
and that does not mean
that there are no dreams to come
but they arrive in their own time
and not manufactured by you
.
will you be patient, o’ stubborn one
allow your heart to break a little
to ache a little
silently, still, allow the wind to blow
.
Trapped in Daydreams
Rip your skin off, run away
Drop every debt and every dead relationship
Take a one-way flight
to an island full of fruit and foliage,
A place surrounded by shimmering blue water—
Water so beautiful you forget you can’t drink it—
Wade out until that water hits your mouth,
Lie on your back and float
as far as the ocean will carry you…
Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks.
Samuel Johnson, The Idler; Poems
Haiku #10
Is hell still below ?
It feels like it’s inside me.
Consuming my soul.
Knights of Arcadia: Inside my head...
Inside my head, between my ears,
There lives a man along in years.
He spits out his anger and nasty for free.
He’s musty and rusty, a flippant old me.
Inside my head, within my brain,
There lives a girl so young and vain.
She’ll cry ‘til you give her whatever she wants.
She’s sneaky and snarky,…
Superb poem By Brooks Benjamin follow the link for the wonderful whole.
She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.
Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It.
The shadows of twilight grow,
And the tiger’s ancient fierceness
In my veins begins to flow.
William Wetmore Story
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“Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.” - Josephine Hart.