Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘poem’ Category

Poem of the Day: Love

Posted in Elizabeth Barrett Browning, live, love, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Write, Writer, writing on 09/15/2007| Leave a Comment »

Love

We cannot live, except thus mutually
We alternate, aware or unaware,
The reflex act of life: and when we bear
Our virtue onward most impulsively,
Most full of invocation, and to be
Most instantly compellant, certes, there
We live most life, whoever breathes most air
And counts his dying years by sun and sea.
But when a soul, by choice and conscience, doth
Throw out her full force on another soul,
The conscience and the concentration both make
mere life, Love. For Life in perfect whole
And aim consummated, is Love in sooth,
As nature’s magnet-heat rounds pole with pole.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Posted in live, love, marlowe, passion, passionate, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, shepard, Write, Writer, writing on 09/14/2007| 2 Comments »

Today NinaAlvarez.net hit 5,000 visits.

I want to do something to celebrate, but for now I’ll just say:
THANKS FOR COMING TO READ!

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherds’ swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

-Christopher Marlowe

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: the way to hump a cow is not

Posted in cummings, hump, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Write, Writer, writing on 09/08/2007| 3 Comments »

the way to hump a cow is not…

the way to hump a cow is not
to get yourself a stool
but draw a line around the spot
and call it beautifool

to multiply because and why
dividing thens by nows
and adding and(i understand)
is hows to hump a cows

the way to hump a cow is not
to elevate your tool
but drop a penny in the slot
and bellow like a bool

to lay a wreath from ancient greath
on insulated brows
(while tossing boms at uncle toms
is hows to hump a cows

the way to hump a cow is not
to push and then to pull
but practicing the art of swot
to preach the golden rull

to vote for me(all decent mem
and wonens will allows
which if they don’t to hell with them)
is hows to hump a cows

-e.e. cummings

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: The Serpent

Posted in poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, roethke, serpent, sing, singing, snake, Write, Writer, writing on 09/07/2007| 16 Comments »

The Serpent

There was a Serpent who had to sing.
There was. There was.
He simply gave up Serpenting.
Because. Because.
He didn’t like his Kind of Life;
He couldn’t find a proper Wife;
He was a Serpent with a soul;
He got no Pleasure down his Hole.
And so, of course, he had to Sing,
And Sing he did, like Anything!
The Birds, they were, they were Astounded;
And various Measures Propounded
To stop the Serpent’s Awful Racket:
They bought a Drum. He wouldn’t Whack it.
They sent, —you always send, —to Cuba
And got a Most Commodious Tuba;
They got a Horn, they got a Flute,
But Nothing would suit.
He said, “Look, Birds, all this is futile:
I do not like to Bang or Tootle.”
And then he cut loose with a Horrible Note
That practically split the Top of his Throat.
“You see,” he said, with a Serpent’s Leer,
“I’m Serious about my Singing Career!”
And the Woods Resounded with many a Shriek
As the Birds flew off to the end of Next Week.

-Theodore Roethke

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: To Have Without Holding

Posted in hold, learn, love, Marge Piercy, open, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, to have without holding, Write, Writer, writing on 09/06/2007| Leave a Comment »

To Have Without Holding

Learning to love differently is hard,
love with the hands wide open, love
with the doors banging on their hinges,
the cupboard unlocked, the wind
roaring and whimpering in the rooms
rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds
that thwack like rubber bands
in an open palm.

It hurts to love wide open
stretching the muscles that feel
as if they are made of wet plaster,
then of blunt knives, then
of sharp knives.

It hurts to thwart the reflexes
of grab, of clutch; to love and let
go again and again. It pesters to remember
the lover who is not in the bed,
to hold back what is owed to the work
that gutters like a candle in a cave
without air, to love consciously,
conscientiously, concretely, constructively.

I can’t do it, you say it’s killing
me, but you thrive, you glow
on the street like a neon raspberry,
You float and sail, a helium balloon
bright bachelor’s button blue and bobbing
on the cold and hot winds of our breath,
as we make and unmake in passionate
diastole and systole the rhythm
of our unbound bonding, to have
and not to hold, to love
with minimized malice, hunger
and anger moment by moment balanced.

-Marge Piercy

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: Dormant

Posted in brad jadwin, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, sad, Write, Writer, writing on 08/31/2007| 1 Comment »

Dormant

dull
door hinge
starlight
fueling
hazy pebble tides

bleached

cheaply glued
transparent
fire
paper

sensible
green
curtains
propelling

one fickle moon

carrying
dense plateaus

–Brad Jadwin

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: Breathing, Becoming

Posted in Hopkins, i am, Margaret, michael lamanna, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Still, submission, to be, Write on 08/29/2007| 3 Comments »

Today’s submission is by the writer/poet/actor Michael Lamanna.

Breathing, Becoming

Remembering, I am
gold
and green
folding fields
long
subtle
silver hills
round
azure
pond and sky

I stray
grazing
glorious
grass. Sway
drifting
effortless
cloud

Remember, I am
cow
like sun
massive, stubborn
breath
like breeze
warm, growing
heart
like grass
alive, golden

I stall
breathing
becoming
ripe. Fall
passing
remember
I am

– Michael Lamanna

And the Why
Why is it one of my favorites? I guess it’s because it makes my heart feel bigger than my chest.

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: The Song

Posted in hope, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Rick Wright, Song, submission, Write, Writer, writing on 08/28/2007| 2 Comments »

Today’s submission is by the photographer and poet Rick Wright.

The Song

The song
wouldn’t come out
from under
the soul’s wall

Notes have lept over
some nights

But, it is held
fast
and down

And those notes I heard
brief words
those nights
writing life

Make me think it will.

-Rick Wright

And the why:

I love the poem for its sense of longing and optimism. That we might
see our loved ones become fully conscioius of their own power. The
child about to walk. We watch and root them on.

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: Beloved Three

Posted in liz, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, school, soul, student, teacher, Write, Writer on 08/27/2007| 2 Comments »

Many thanks to Liz for her submission!

Beloved Three

I.

I feel three pairs of eyes
Lurking and gazing out
From three heedful heads
With flowing black locks

Three graceful fingers
Wagging a warning
With three tongues a-ready
To go clucking amok

Six clever feet
Tapping rhythms of caution
A trio in minor
Singing inquiring refrains

I have six arms to hug me
Six hands to hold
Three beautiful angels,
Guardians so bold

Vigilant daughters
Of word and of sound
Their love, a light around me
Their devotion abounds

I still often wonder why
They have chosen me to love
I have three beautiful angels here on Earth
To help the ones above

(Mar 18, 2006)

II.

Hush, my Heart, subside this beating
Fast flim-flamming rhythmic flow
My beloved three tonight are beaming
There they go
And how they go

This night, their lives as pupils gleaning
Vicarious knowledge from tomes long past
Parroted endlessly by tongues unceasing
Will cease at last
Cease at long last

Giddy Pride, swells, overflowing
As each angel mine on petalled stage tread
A hand to the devil, graciously hinting
Of lives ahead
Grand lives ahead

Stop, my Tears, subside thy gath’ring
Tomorrow awaits though Night is over
Outside this hallowed hall, continuing
A Dance Quartet
Forever and ever

(Mar 26, 2006)

And the why:

I’m a teacher and this two-part poem was inspired by three students of mine who supported me and acted as my wise counsels during a particularly difficult school year. The second poem is about their graduation and the hope of continuing friendship. Being a teacher is such a challenge and, often, it’s the students who make the job worthwhile. The end of that schoolyear was bittersweet because we were all leaving: me, to work elsewhere; and them, to go on with their studies. This poem is for those three girls and all my students, my reason for teaching, who cared.

Read Full Post »

Poem of the Day: Love Me Like You Never Loved Before

Posted in hakan, love, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, sweden, Write, Writer, writing on 08/23/2007| 17 Comments »

Submitted by Håkan from Sweden. 

Love Me Like You Never Loved Before 

The presence of you
keeps me up in the night.
I don’t know what to do
when you’re out of my sight.

My life is a bore.
I long for your touch.
I can tell you for sure
that I want you so much.

Love me like you
never loved before.

Come with me.
It’s easy to see
that we both need that thing
like a bird with one wing.

We could fly
and time would pass by.
As we reach for the shore,
I will want you much more.

Love me like you
never loved before.

Skin on skin,
the fire within,
your body is mine,
your look is divine.

The night is still young,
with your name on my tongue,
though nothing me harms,
I will die in your arms.

Love me like you
never loved before.

And the why:

When you can’t have the one that you want, the dream might keep you from going under. And if your dream finally comes true, then there is nothing left to fear. That’s what this poem is about and I would like to share it with millions of dreamers.

-Håkan

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »