Posts tagged poetry

 “sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love”

 (all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming)

 lovers go and lovers come
awandering awondering
but any two are perfectly
alone there’s nobody else alive

 (such a sky and such a sun
I never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)

 not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing

 (secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)

 “sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love”

This Be The Verse

image

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

  They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

  And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

  By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

  And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

  It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

  And don’t have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin

(Sent to me by my dad, so he can’t be so bad.)

visual-poetry:

“poem 42” by e.e. cummings
(from the book “73 poems”)

visual-poetry:

“poem 42” by e.e. cummings

(from the book “73 poems”)

Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.
E.E. Cummings

Good grief.

Undressing

Learn the alchemy true human beings
know:  the moment you accept what
trouble you’ve been given, the door
will open.  Welcome difficulty
as a familiar comrade.  Joke with
torment brought by the Friend.

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes
and jackets that serve to cover,
then are taken off.  That undressing,
and the naked body underneath, is
the sweetness that comes from grief.

Rumi