Poems from your favorite poets

mikalina

Pier Della Vigne (1190-1249?)


Love in whom I hope and desire,
Has given me lovely you as my prize:
I wait for the sweet time and season,
When all my hopes may be realised:
Like a man at sea who hopes to move,
Spreading his sail, when he sees the breeze,
And in his hopes is ever undeceived:

I do the same, my Lady, to come to you.
Would I could come to you now, lover,
Like a secret thief and not be seen!
If Love would be so kind moreover,
It would bring such joyous luck to me.

I would speak to you so sweetly, Lady,
And say to you I have loved you long,
More sweetly than Pyramus his Thisbe.
I’ll love you while I live, is all my song.

Your love it is that holds me in desire,
Brings me hope, and brings me joy too.
I care not if I must grieve and suffer
Thinking of the hour when I come to you.
For, sweet breath, if I delay too long,
I seem to die, and you appear to lose me.

So take care lest I die in hopes of you,
Take care, lovely creature, if you love me.

My Lady, I still live in hopes of you,
And now I ask again for my heart,
Though the hour itself seems late, too,
For sweet love to lead me to your heart.
I wait for the moment that will suit
To spread my sail towards you, my rose,
And reach that harbour where my heart,
Beneath your sovereignty might repose.

Carry this plaint, my little song,
To her who has my heart in her power,
And before her lay all my wrongs,
And tell her how I die of love for her.
And let her send a message to say
How I can ease this love I bear:

And if there’s any wrong I’ve done her,

According to her worth I will repay....

mikalina

One of my favorite poets....

HOLDING HER HAND

by Gero Miceli

My mouth
longs for
her kisses while
I wait for her observing
the burnt hilltops of a South
that smells of Africa

I would love to walk
with her for
a longer while
through a sweet
golden path
under moon rays
and night waterfalls
of vivacious happy petals.

Her whispered words
transport me in oceans
of tenderness in which I fly
holding her hand.

TENENDOLA PER MANO

La mia bocca
è assetata dei
suoi baci, mentre
l’aspetto osservando
gli arsi colli di un Sud
profumato d’Africa.

Vorrei camminare
insieme a lei per
un lungo tempo ancora,
attraverso un tragitto
dolcemente dorato,
sotto raggi di luna
e notturne cascate
di vivaci petali felici.

Le sue parole sussurrate
mi trasportano in oceani
di tenerezza sui quali volo,
tenendola per mano.

DopeBeastie

Advice to Myself

by Louise Erdrich


Leave the dishes. Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic—decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

rollings

thank you for that DopeBeastie

DopeBeastie

rollings wrote:

thank you for that DopeBeastie

don'tcha love it? really only caring if the words match, or thoughts? if I had the brainpower, i'd dedicate my existence to it...

oh, and the line likening the heart to a closet stuffed with savage momentos... that thing we never clean out. I can't help but think of Hugh Freekin Dillon's analogy - being in love with being sad - i suppose if we don't clean out the closet, we might not find room for better things...

mikalina

To Silvia by Giacomo Leopardi


Silvia, do you remember
the moments, in your mortal life,
when beauty still shone
in your sidelong, laughing eyes,
and you, light and thoughtful,
went
beyond girlhood’s limits?

The quiet rooms and the streets
around you, sounded
to your endless singing,
when you sat, happily content,
intent, on that woman’s work,
the vague future, arriving alive in your mind.
It was the scented May, and that’s how
you spent your day.

I would leave my intoxicating studies,
and the turned-down pages,
where my young life,
the best of me, was left,
and from the balcony of my father’s house
strain to catch the sound of your voice,
and your hand, quick,
running over the loom.
I would look at the serene sky,
the gold lit gardens and paths,
that side the mountains, this side the far-off sea.
And human tongue cannot say
what I felt then.

What sweet thoughts,
what hopes, what hearts, O Silvia mia!
How it appeared to us then,
all human life and fate!
When I recall that hope
such feelings pain me,
harsh, disconsolate,
I brood on my own destiny.
Oh Nature, Nature
why do you not give now
what you promised then? Why
do you so deceive your children?

Attacked, and conquered, by secret disease,
you died, my tenderest one, and did not see
your years flower, or feel your heart moved,
by sweet praise of your black hair
your shy, loving looks.
No friends talked with you,
on holidays, about love.

My sweet hopes died also
little by little: to me too
Fate has denied those years. Oh,
how you have passed me by,
dear friend of my new life,
my saddened hope!
Is this the world, the dreams,
the loves, events, delights,
we spoke about so much together?
Is this our human life?
At the advance of Truth
you fell, unhappy one,
and from the distance,
with your hand, you pointed
towards death’s coldness and the silent grave....

mikalina

It Won't Consume You...

by Diletta Fabiani


Even if it's just a sad song
let it be heard
even if no one will hear it
sing for the sky
there's a place where everything ends up
above
pain is forgotten
floating

Even when you're crying
head up
this way tears dry away
quickly
let pain fill all the cups inside you
then
throw it away
move on

Everything you've lost
kiss it goodbye

life will break you
but it won't consume you

TRADUZIONE
(Anche se è solo una canzone triste
falla sentire
anche se nessuno la sentirà
canta per il cielo
c'è un posto in cui finisce tutto
lassù
il dolore viene dimenticato
fluttuando

Anche quando piangi
tieni la testa alta
in questo modo le lacrime si asciugano
velocemente
lascia che il dolore riempia le coppe dentro di te
poi
gettalo via
e prosegui

Tutto ciò che hai perso
digli addio

la vita ti spezzerà
ma non ti consumerà)

mysticweed

DopeBeastie wrote:

rollings wrote:

thank you for that DopeBeastie

don'tcha love it? really only caring if the words match, or thoughts? if I had the brainpower, i'd dedicate my existence to it...

oh, and the line likening the heart to a closet stuffed with savage momentos... that thing we never clean out. I can't help but think of Hugh Freekin Dillon's analogy - being in love with being sad - i suppose if we don't clean out the closet, we might not find room for better things...

fanfuckingtastic

if we don't clean out the closet, we might not find room for better things
:idea:

mysticweed

Everything is laid out for you.
Your path is straight ahead of you.
Sometimes it's invisible, but it's there.
You may not know where it's going,
But you have to follow that path.
It's the path to the Creator.
It's the only path there is.

by:
Chief Leon Shenandoah

mysticweed

We call upon the earth, our planet home, with its beautiful depths and soaring heights,
its vitality and abundance of life, and together we ask that it
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the mountains, the Cascades and the Olympics, the high green valleys and meadows filled with
wild flowers, the snows that never melt, the summits of intense silence, and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the waters that rim the earth, horizon to horizon, that flow in our rivers and streams,
that fall upon our gardens and fields and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the land which grows our food, the nurturing soil, the fertile fields, the abundant gardens
and orchards, and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the forests, the great trees reaching strongly to the sky with earth in their roots and the
heavens in their branches, the fir and the pine and the cedar, and we ask them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the creatures of the fields and forests and the seas, our brothers and sisters the wolves
and deer, the eagle and dove, the great whales and the dolphin, the beautiful Orca and salmon who
share our Northwest home, and we ask them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon all those who have lived on the earth, our ancestors and our friends, who dreamed the best
for future generations, and upon whose lives and our lives are built, and with thanksgiving,
we call upon them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

Lastly, we call upon all that we hold most sacred, the presence and power of the
Great Love and Truth which flows through all the Universe to be with us to

Teach us and show us the Way.


Chinook blessing litany

donnaruhl

I knew as soon as you wrote , Teach us, and show us the way."It was native." That I think was one of the most beautiful Poem's I've ever read. And I Thank You for posting it.

donnaruhl

I knew as soon as you wrote , Teach us, and show us the way."It was native." That I think was one of the most beautiful Poem's I've ever read. And I Thank You for posting it.

Byrnzie

mysticweed wrote:

We call upon the earth, our planet home, with its beautiful depths and soaring heights,
its vitality and abundance of life, and together we ask that it
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the mountains, the Cascades and the Olympics, the high green valleys and meadows filled with
wild flowers, the snows that never melt, the summits of intense silence, and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the waters that rim the earth, horizon to horizon, that flow in our rivers and streams,
that fall upon our gardens and fields and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the land which grows our food, the nurturing soil, the fertile fields, the abundant gardens
and orchards, and we ask that they
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the forests, the great trees reaching strongly to the sky with earth in their roots and the
heavens in their branches, the fir and the pine and the cedar, and we ask them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon the creatures of the fields and forests and the seas, our brothers and sisters the wolves
and deer, the eagle and dove, the great whales and the dolphin, the beautiful Orca and salmon who
share our Northwest home, and we ask them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

We call upon all those who have lived on the earth, our ancestors and our friends, who dreamed the best
for future generations, and upon whose lives and our lives are built, and with thanksgiving,
we call upon them to
Teach us and show us the Way.

Lastly, we call upon all that we hold most sacred, the presence and power of the
Great Love and Truth which flows through all the Universe to be with us to

Teach us and show us the Way.


Chinook blessing litany

Nice one.

donnaruhl

I was scrolling back on the pages last night,when I came across this poem. My reply was that this was the best poem I think I've ever read. And I thank you for re-posting it for others who may not have read it. It's beautiful.

Nature Lover

Wall of Protection


How slowly it is built over time. The child places each brick fashioned from within to surround and protect himself. It is all he knows. It keeps him safe. He grows up and realizes that has also served as a prison to living a full life. He couldn't pardon himself so God did it for him. He hoped it was done, but realized that this time he had to take down the bricks one by one. God becomes the assistant by the Man must do the work. Spiritual Emergence--brick by brick and the Wall of Protection becomes the Road to Freedom.


Ivan Robert Padjen

donnaruhl

Life is but a journey,Taken on a train.
With a pair of passengers,
At each window pain.

You may sit beside me,
The whole journey through,
Or I may sit elsewhere,
Never knowing you.

But if fate should mark us,
To sit at each others side,
May we be pleasant companions,
It's so short of ride.

Poet unknown to me.

Blind3

On Winter

When smiling Summer's charms are past,
The voice of music dies;
Then Winter pours his chilling blast
From rough inclement skies.

The pensive dove shuts up her throat,
The larks forbear to soar,
Or raise one sweet, delightful note,
Which charm'd the ear before.

The screech-owl peals her shivering tone
Upon the brink of night;
As some sequestered child unknown,
Which feared to come in sight.

The cattle all desert the field,
And eager seek the glades
Of naked trees, which once did yield
Their sweet and pleasant shades.

The humming insects all are still,
The beetles rise no more.
The constant tinkling of the bell,
Along the heath is o'er.

Stern Boreas hurls each piercing gale
With snow-clad wings along,
Discharging volleys mixed with hail
Which chill the breeze of song.

Lo, all the Southern windows close,
Whence spicy breezes roll;
The herbage sinks in sad repose,
And Winter sweeps the whole.

Thus after youth old age comes on,
And brings the frost of time,
And e'er our vigor has withdrawn,
We shed the rose of prime.

Alas! how quick it is the case,
The scion youth is grown--
How soon it runs its morning race,
And beauty's sun goes down.

The Autumn of declining years
Must blanch the father's head,
Encumbered with a load of cares,
When youthful charms have fled.

George Moses Horton

mikalina

The Way Things Work by Jorie Graham

Is by admitting
or opening away.
This is the simplest form
of current: Blue
moving through blue;
blue through purple;
the objects of desire
opening upon themselves
without us; the objects of faith.
The way things work
is by solution,
resistance lessened or
increased and taken
advantage of.
The way things work
is that we finally believe
they are there,
common and able
o illustrate themselves.
Wheel, kinetic flow,
rising and falling water,
ingots, levers and keys,
I believe in you,
cylinder lock, pully,
lifting tackle and
crane lift your small head--
I believe in you--
your head is the horizon to
my hand. I believe
forever in the hooks.
The way things work
is that eventually
something catches.

rollings

mikalina wrote:

The Way Things Work by Jorie Graham

Is by admitting
or opening away.
This is the simplest form
of current: Blue
moving through blue;
blue through purple;
the objects of desire
opening upon themselves
without us; the objects of faith.
The way things work
is by solution,
resistance lessened or
increased and taken
advantage of.
The way things work
is that we finally believe
they are there,
common and able
o illustrate themselves.
Wheel, kinetic flow,
rising and falling water,
ingots, levers and keys,
I believe in you,
cylinder lock, pully,
lifting tackle and
crane lift your small head--
I believe in you--
your head is the horizon to
my hand. I believe
forever in the hooks.
The way things work
is that eventually
something catches.

wow. I love this poem!

push me and i will resist

Copenhagen

Copenhagen, oh what a wad of flavour
Copenhagen, I can see it In your smile
Copenhagen, oh do yourself a favour
Chew, Copenhagen drives those pretty girls wild.

By: Push Me and I Will Resist