This is a thread for poems that speak to you. Post 'em up
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Dark August by Derek Walcott
So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August. My sister, the sun,
broods in her yellow room and won't come out.
Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume
like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,
she will not rise and turn off the rain.
She is in her room, fondling old things,
my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls
like a crash of plates from the sky,
she does not come out.
Don't you know I love you but am hopeless
at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly
to love the dark days, the steaming hills,
the air with gossiping mosquitoes,
and to sip the medicine of bitterness,
so that when you emerge, my sister,
parting the beads of the rain,
with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,
all will not be as it was, but it will be true
(you see they will not let me love
as I want), because, my sister, then
I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,
The black rain, the white hills, when once
I loved only my happiness and you.Last edited by Meliai; 08-21-2020, 03:59 PM. -
Its very rare that i find a poem that speaks to me. I have a hard time understanding peoples poetry. But this poem definitely speaks to me. Love it.
No Self is True Self
The man in whom Tao acts without impediment
Does not bother with his own interests
And does not despise others who do
He does not struggle to make money
And does not make a virtue of poverty.
He goes his way without relying on others
And does not pride himself on walking alone.
While he does not follow the crowd
He won't complain of those who do.
Rank and reward make no appeal to him;
Disgrace and shame do not deter him.
He is not always looking for right and wrong
Always deciding "yes" and "no."
The ancients said, therefore:
"The man of Tao remains unknown.
Perfect virtue produces nothing
No-Self Is True-Self
And the greatest man is nobody"
Chuang TzuComment
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My junior year HS teacher used to recite this when he saw one of us wasting time.
Just A Minute, Dr. Benjamin E. Mays
I have only just a minute,
Only sixty seconds in it.
Forced upon me, can’t refuse it.
Didn’t seek it, didn’t choose it.
But it’s up to me to use it.
I must suffer if I lose it.
Give account if I abuse it.
Just a tiny little minute,
but eternity is in it.
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Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
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THE ENCOUNTER
enchanted by this strange proximity
Longing, and mystery, and delight…
as if from the swaying blackness
of some slow-motion masquerade
onto the dim bridge you came.
And night flowed, and silent there floated
into its satin streams
that black mask’s wolf-like profile
and those tender lips of yours.
And under the chestnuts, along the canal
you passed, luring me askance.
What did my heart discern in you,
how did you move me so?
In your momentary tenderness,
or in the changing contour of your shoulders,
did I experience a dim sketch
of other — irrevocable — encounters?
Perhaps romantic pity
led you to understand
what had set trembling that arrow
now piercing through my verse?
I know nothing. Strangely
the verse vibrates, and in it, an arrow…
Perhaps you, still nameless, were
the genuine, the awaited one?
But sorrow not yet quite cried out
perturbed our starry hour.
Into the night returned the double fissure
of your eyes, eyes not yet illumed.
For long? For ever? Far off
I wander, and strain to hear
the movement of the stars above our encounter
and what if you are to be my fate…
Longing, and mystery, and delight,
and like a distant supplication….
My heart must travel on.
But if you are to be my fate…
Vladimir Nabokov
Nabokov wrote this poem within hours of his first encounter with the woman who would later become his wife of over 50 years. That's pretty fucking romantic - most people probably write off the first chance encounter with the person they later fall in love with as a passing lust or mild interest, but not Nabokov! He was brave enough, or foolish enough depending on your perspective, to question if it was fate.Comment
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What moment in the gradual decay
does resurrection choose? What year? What day?
Who has the stopwatch? Who rewinds the tape?
are some less lucky, or do all escape?
a syllogism: other men die, but I
Am not another, therefore I'll not die.
Space is swarming in the eyes; and time
a singing in the ears. In this hive I'm
Locked up. Yet, if prior to the life we had
Been able to imagine life, what mad,
Impossible, unalterable weird,
Wonderful nonsense might have appeared!Comment
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[Verse 1]
Give me, give me, chicken tendies
Be they crispy, or from Wendy's
Spend my hard-earned good boy points
On Kid's Meal ball pit burger joints
[Verse 2]
Mommy lifts me to the car
To find me tendies near and far
Enjoy my tasty tendie treats
In comfy big boy booster seats
[Verse 3]
McDonald's, Hardee's, Popeye's, Cane's
But of my tendies none remains
She tries to make me take a nappy
But sleeping doesn't make me happy
[Verse 4]
Tendies are the only food
That puts me in the napping mood
I'll scream, I'll shout, I'll make a fuss
I'll scratch, I'll bite, I'll even cuss!
[Verse 5]
Tendies are my heart's desire
Fueled by raging, hungry fire
Mommy sobs, and wails, and cries
But tears aren't tendies, nugs or fries
[Verse 6]
My good boy points were fairly earned
To buy the tendies that I've yearned
But there's no tendies on my plate
Did mommy think that I'd just ate?!
[Verse 7]
Tendies, tendies, get them now!
You fat, ungrateful, sluggish sow!
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
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Apparently I really like ol' Pablo. This one is good to keep in mind when living one's life
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