The Ballad of Reading Gaol I He did not wear his scarlet coat, For blood and wine are red, And blood and wine were on his hands When they found him with the dead, The poor dead woman whom he loved, And murdered in her bed. He walked amongst the Trial Men In a suit [...]
Archive for November, 2007
Poem of the Day: The Ballad of Reading Gaol
Posted in ezra, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, pound, Write, Writer, writing on 11/30/2007 | 1 Comment »
Poem of the Day: Letter Home
Posted in letter, november, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Trethewey, Write, Writer, writing on 11/29/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Letter Home –New Orleans, November 1910 Four weeks have passed since I left, and still I must write to you of no work. I’ve worn down the soles and walked through the tightness of my new shoes calling upon the merchants, their offices bustling. All the while I kept thinking my plain English and good [...]
Poem of the Day: City That Does Not Sleep
Posted in bly, Lorca, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, sleep, strange, surreal, Write, Writer, writing on 11/27/2007 | 1 Comment »
City That Does Not Sleep In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the [...]
Poem of the Day: Memoirs of a Spider
Posted in jadwin, memoir, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, spider, Write, Writer, writing on 11/26/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Memoirs of a Spider glass webs hang low in the sky my compass breath weapon fits snugly between silently avoiding among the white blankets a thorn fire heavy disappearing when we begin empiricism the day-to-day subjective lingers tramping torn foreign page remnants beneath my feet still layered edited stories copied a forced reflective upon the [...]
Poem of the Day: Are You There?
Posted in are you there, auden, lover, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, proust, Write, Writer, writing, tagged alone, auden, dream, love, lover, proust on 11/24/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Are You There? Each lover has some theory of his own About the difference between the ache Of being with his love, and being alone: Why what, when dreaming, is dear flesh and bone That really stirs the senses, when awake, Appears a simulacrum of his own. Narcissus disbelieves in the unknown; He cannot join [...]
Poem of the Day: Nothing Gold Can Stay
Posted in life, loss, nature, nothing, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, robert, stay, Write, Writer, writing, tagged death, frost, gold, life, nothing, poem, youth on 11/23/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. -Robert Frost
Poem of the Day: The Dream
Posted in lesson, love, nightmare, offer, parable, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, strange, Write, Writer, writing on 11/22/2007 | Leave a Comment »
The Dream O God, in the dream the terrible horse began To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows, Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane, And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose. Coward complete, I lay and wept on the ground When some strong creature [...]
Poem of the Day: Ewe (Ghana)
Posted in joris, oral, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, translate, tristan, tzara, Write, Writer, writing on 11/20/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Ewe (Ghana) The bird that saw sings Tseutse’s child is dead She should eat, they say I don’t want to eat, she says God himself greeted them And said, she should eat But Tseutse refused and said: I’ll never eat Then earth greeted them and said she should eat But Tseutse said never will I [...]
Poem of the Day: Orpheus
Posted in kelly, loss, love, myth, Orpheus, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, robert, Write, Writer, writing on 11/19/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Orpheus Orpheus can never look back at the real woman trailing behind him out of hell, the woman that anybody could see with ordinary eyes. Orpheus must keep his eyes firmly fixed on the imaginal Eurydice before him, towards whom he has struggled all his life. She is not imaginary, not at all, but realer [...]
Poem of the Day: Journey into the Interior
Posted in interior, journey, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, roethke, sad, search, self, theodire, theodore, Write, Writer, writing on 11/17/2007 | Leave a Comment »
Journey into the Interior In the long journey out of the self, There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places Where the shale slides dangerously And the back wheels hang almost over the edge At the sudden veering, the moment of turning. Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones. The arroyo cracking [...]
