Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, art, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, she dwelt among the untrodden ways, wordsworth, writing on July 1, 2008 | No Comments »
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
–Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be; [...]
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When the world is strange around me, it is because i am pursing my lips.
The mind can unlearn its tricks, the silver swath, the white shoots that swish out to their same garbage cans. These masteries can be unmastered.
But tonight there is something on top of me, something I can’t get rid of. The strangeness [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, art, auden, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, writing on June 20, 2008 | No Comments »
In honor of my new friend, Jorge Porcel De Peralta, who loves Auden and the Argentinians who love Freud:
In Memory of Sigmund Freud
When there are so many we shall have to mourn,
when grief has been made so public, and exposed
to the critique of a whole epoch
the frailty of our conscience and anguish,
of whom shall we [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, art, goethe, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, writing, tagged goethe, heathrose on June 9, 2008 | 1 Comment »
ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied,
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array’d in youthful pride,–
Quickly to the spot he hied,
Ravished by her splendour.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Said the boy, “I’ll now pick thee,
Heathrose fair and tender!”
Said the rosebud, “I’ll prick thee,
So that thou’lt remember me,
Ne’er will I surrender!”
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Now the [...]
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Jil Hanifan
pressing down her lead piling will
over our freshman bodies, oh the
sophomores were
more with it. One was a black poet
and I
read a poem Jil loved
and i held it close to me, strictly, because
her eye was a Sauron eye and I basked in it
like a heat lamp
and in this poem
was the word ‘argentine’
Now, I couldn’t have [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, galaxy, happiness, joy, life, nazi, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, ruth stone, sad, writing on May 12, 2008 | 1 Comment »
In the Next Galaxy
Things will be different.
No one will lose their sight,
their hearing, their gallbladder.
It will be all Catskills with brand
new wrap-around verandas.
The idea of Hitler will not
have vibrated yet.
While back here,
they are still cleaning out
pockets of wrinkled
Nazis hiding in Argentina.
But in the next galaxy,
certain planets will have true
blue skies [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, death, die, lady of shallot, love, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, sad, tennyson, writing on May 8, 2008 | No Comments »
The Lady of Shallot
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.1
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, Write, Writer, art, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, writing, tagged add, alvarez, nina on April 20, 2008 | 1 Comment »
What they don’t know
about ADD
is that you don’t have a present.
You could be a great filmmaker,
but for this affliction,
the sequence of small moments that make
an epiphany are too small
and too slow to recount,
your mind is already 15 years in the past, or counting your change from lunch
or watching
Vampire Weekend on SNL.
There are trends
and people that [...]
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Posted in Nina Alvarez, art, words, tagged alvarez, dante, nina, poem, poet, poetry, Write, Writer on April 14, 2008 | No Comments »
Inferno, Canto XIV
Love of that land that was our common source
moved me to tears; I gathered up the leaves
and gave them back. He was already hoarse.
We came to the edge of the forest where one goes
from the second round to the third, [...]
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A Valediction Forbidding Mourning
My swirling wants. Your frozen lips.
The grammar turned and attacked me.
Themes, written under duress.
Emptiness of the notations.
They gave me a drug that slowed the healing of wounds.
I want you to see this before I leave:
the experience of repetition as death
the failure of criticism to locate the pain
the poster in the bus that [...]
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