Poems anyone?

I Have Longed to Move Away by Dylan Thomas

I have longed to move away
From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terror's continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes
From there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper
And the thunder of calls and notes.

I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind
Neither by night's ancient fear
The parting of hat from hair
Pursed lips at at the receiver
Shall I fall to death's feather
By these I would not care to die
Half convention and half lie.
 
Agape

Today no one's come by to inquire
nor this afternoon has anyone asked for me anything

Nor have I seen one cementery flower
in so happy a procession of lights.
Forgive me, Lord: I've died so little!

This afternoon everyone, everyone passes by
without asking for me or asking me anything.

And I don't know what they forgot and left behind
in my hands, like a horrible mistake, like someone else's.

I have gone to the door,
and it makes me feel like yelling at everyone:
If you're missing something, you left it here!

Because every afternoon of this life,
I don't know what doors are slammed in a face,
and my soul is seized by something strange.

No one's come by today;
and I've died so little this afternoon!

Cesar Vallejo
 
Dylan Thomas again

And Death Shall Have No Dominion

And death shall have no dominion
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion

And death shall have no dominion
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
 
City That Watches

More than monuments
or consecrated plazas
I would spend life traveling
in your eyes,
in the dream
or simply reclined
gazing on your parted lips
as they navigate
motionless
over the opening of mine
More than sacred cities
I would make of your body amazed
like one who
hurredly enters
cities
full of refugees
groping blindly,
celebrating
streetcorners and
found things
where the solitary,
the crazed,
seek refuge
from evil omens,
where they found imaginary
borders
and make of the body
frontiers as far-reaching
as outstretched arms
or eyes
that seek not avenues
down which to go strolling,
but a naked body.
 
SexyDevilGirl said:
I Have Longed to Move Away by Dylan Thomas

I have longed to move away
From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terror's continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes
From there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper
And the thunder of calls and notes.

I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind
Neither by night's ancient fear
The parting of hat from hair
Pursed lips at at the receiver
Shall I fall to death's feather
By these I would not care to die
Half convention and half lie.
Click to expand...

Why do they assign "Fern Hill" in school when Dylan Thomas wrote stuff like this?
 
Bouville said:
...like a horrible mistake, like someone else's.

I have gone to the door,
and it makes me feel like yelling at everyone:
If you're missing something, you left it here!

Because every afternoon of this life,
I don't know what doors are slammed in a face,
and my soul is seized by something strange.

No one's come by today;
and I've died so little this afternoon!

Cesar Vallejo
Click to expand...
That is great!
 
An Explanation

They say this really happened, in the Church of Eternal Light:
a penitent dropped to the floor wearing nothing but sweat, she
spasmed like some snake on an electrified wire, she uttered
angel eldestspeech, and then she disappeared--they mean
totally, and at once. First the entire tarpaper room gave a shudder,
and then she disappeared--at once, and totally.
Nobody understands it. Well,
maybe I understand it. Once, in 8th grade, Denton Nashbell
had an epileptic seizure. Mrs. Modderhock squatted
above where he flapped like something half a person
half a pennant, she was pressing a filthy spoon to his tongue.
I've remembered him 25 years now. And--that woman? she
was the universe's tongue the universe
swallowed. That's as good an explanation as any.
Once, in sleep, you started a dream soliloquy,
the grammar of which is snow on fire, the words are
neuron-scrawl, are words the elements sing to their molecules...
--I threw myself across you.
It wasn't sex this time. I just wanted to keep you
beside me, in this world.


--Albert Goldbarth
 
OUR LIVES AS ANGELS


We expected at least halos. And we scrutinized
our backs daily for sprouting feathers,
but there was nothing doing. Our choir voices cracked.
The cloth in which we were divinely clad
turned out to be stained and mothbitten.

There was frost on the stars, and not one match
to warm our hands or improve the light, which was so poor
we had to abandon the card game we improvised
to pass time. We developed a language of coughs
and wheezes in which we discussed things like

‘assured mutual destruction’ and ‘emotional responsibility.’
But even this grew tiresome, and at last we settled
into a long, fidgety silence. At times a clamor
seemed to rise somewhere below. Whether the clangs of a smithy
or branches twisting in a steady gale, none could say.

We never saw another soul. If there were windows,
they’d have been clotted with rotting boards. Just the stars
and our insomniac quartet, training our ears
on the murmur below, in which gradually we
fancied we heard voices, knotted pleas for help.
 
zgodt said:
OUR LIVES AS ANGELS


We expected at least halos. And we scrutinized
our backs daily for sprouting feathers,
but there was nothing doing. Our choir voices cracked.
The cloth in which we were divinely clad
turned out to be stained and mothbitten.

There was frost on the stars, and not one match
to warm our hands or improve the light, which was so poor
we had to abandon the card game we improvised
to pass time. We developed a language of coughs
and wheezes in which we discussed things like

‘assured mutual destruction’ and ‘emotional responsibility.’
But even this grew tiresome, and at last we settled
into a long, fidgety silence. At times a clamor
seemed to rise somewhere below. Whether the clangs of a smithy
or branches twisting in a steady gale, none could say.

We never saw another soul. If there were windows,
they’d have been clotted with rotting boards. Just the stars
and our insomniac quartet, training our ears
on the murmur below, in which gradually we
fancied we heard voices, knotted pleas for help.
Click to expand...
:)

Who wrote that?
 
Circa 1996.

So why did I pick that old thing? I don't know. It was painless and easy. The poem I'm working on now concerns the tragic inner life of a pre-printed address label.
 
zgodt said:
Circa 1996.

So why did I pick that old thing? I don't know. It was painless and easy. The poem I'm working on now concerns the tragic inner life of a pre-printed address label.
Click to expand...
Seriously? LOL
 
CHOOSE LIFE

Choose life instead of those prisms with no depth even if
their colors are purer
Instead of this hour always hidden instead of these
terrible vehicles of cold flame
Instead of these overripe stones
Choose this heart with its safety catch
Instead of that murmuring pool
And that white fabric singing in the air and the earth at
the same time
Instead of that marriage blessing joining my forehead to
total vanity’s
Choose life

Choose life with its conspiratorial sheets
Its scars from escapes
Choose life choose that rose window on my tomb
The life of being here nothing but being here
Where one voice says Are you there where another
answers Are you there
I’m hardly here at all alas
And even when we might be making fun of what we kill
Choose life

Choose life choose life venerable Childhood
The ribbon coming out of a fakir
Resembles the playground slide of the world
Though the sun is only a shipwreck
Insofar as a woman’s body resembles it
You dream contemplating the whole length of its trajectory
Or only while closing your eyes on the adorable storm
named your hand
Choose life

Choose life with its waiting rooms
When you know you’ll never be shown in
Choose life instead of those health spas
Where you’re served by drudges
Choose life unfavorable and long
When the books close again here on less gentle shelves
And when over there the weather would be better than
better it would be free yes
Choose life

Choose life as the pit of scorn
With that head beautiful enough
Like the antidote to that perfection it summons and it fears
Life the makeup on God’s face
Life like a virgin passport
A little town like Pont-a-Mousson
And since everything’s already been said
Choose life instead


--Andre Breton
 
He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on —
He stuns you by degrees —
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers — further heard —
Then nearer — Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten —
Your Brain — to bubble Cool —
Deals — One — imperial — Thunderbolt —
That scalps your naked Soul —

When Winds take Forests in their Paws —
The Universe — is still —
 
Thread resurrection night I see :D

XII

Full woman, fleshly apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light
what obscure brilliance opens between your columns
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?

Loving is a journey with water and with stars
with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour;
loving is a clash of lightning bolts
and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey

Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages,
and the genital fire transformed into delight

runs through the narrow pathways of the blood
until it plunges down, like a dark carnation
until it is and is no more than a flash in the night.
 
Preludio

Yo quisiera estar entre vacías tinieblas, porque el mundo lastima cruelmente mis sentidos y la vida me aflige, impertinente amada que me cuenta amarguras.

Entonces me habrán abandonado los recuerdos: ahora huyen y vuelven con el ritmo de infatigables olas y son lobos aullantes en la noche que cubre el desierto de nieve.

El movimiento, signo molesto de la realidad, respeta mi fantástico asilo; mas yo lo habré escalado del brazo con la muerte. Ella es una blanca Beatriz, y, de pies sobre el creciente de la luna, visitará la mar de mis dolores. Bajo su hechizo reposaré eternamente y no lamentaré más la ofendida belleza ni el imposible amor.

Jose Antonio Ramos Sucre
 
And sometimes I approach the borders of insomnia
on tiptoe,
I stop to touch his lips
and to tell him things in secret
nothing too secret
only things that could not be said to him
when they came looking for him
while they undressed him to beat him
and abandon him
like a wounded animal
in the nebulous rooms
then I approach
the very shore of his lips
that seem like
two estuaries
two absenses
that are filled with my words
that crash
against a photograph
encrusted in my soul
like a talisman of my sorrows

:|
 
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