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Author
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Topic: Poetry Thoughts
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Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted July 27, 2016 10:39 AM
  
Reading and sauntering and lounging and dosing, which I call thinking, is my supreme Happiness.
~David Hume   ------------------
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Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted July 27, 2016 11:01 AM
Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. I use the word "love" here not merely in the personal sense but as a state of being, or a state of grace - not in the infantile American sense of being made happy but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.*
The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see. * To be sensual, I think, is to respect and rejoice in the force of life, of life itself, and to be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of bread. * Trust life, and it will teach you, in joy and sorrow, all you need to know.
~James Baldwin ------------------
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Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 01, 2016 10:09 AM
Poetry is life distilled.When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water. We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond. Writing is a delicious agony. ~Gwendolyn Brooks IP: Logged |
Ayelet
Moderator Posts: 4048
From:
Registered: Sep 2010
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posted August 01, 2016 01:23 PM
quote:
Originally posted by Pearlty:
Poetry is life distilled.When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water.
~Gwendolyn Brooks
Lovely. IP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted August 01, 2016 01:56 PM
quote:
Originally posted by Pearlty:
Poetry is life distilled.When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water. We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond. Writing is a delicious agony. ~Gwendolyn Brooks
  IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 02, 2016 05:46 PM
Ayelet & Mirage
IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 18, 2016 11:20 AM
Love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
~Rainer Maria RilkeIP: Logged |
thequeen
unregistered
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posted August 20, 2016 10:08 AM
I hope I'm posting in the right thread… 
--Mirror- I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. --Sylvia Plath IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 20, 2016 10:55 PM
quote:
Originally posted by thequeen:
I hope I'm posting in the right thread…
--Mirror- I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. --[b]Sylvia Plath[/B]
 Perfect place for your addition thequeen.
I use to read her poetry quite a bit. IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 22, 2016 04:46 PM
Autumn. It's crispness, it's anticipation, it's melancholia, it's cool breezes replacing summer's heat. It's long days in the field, a harvest festival when work's done, a cheering crowd in a football stadium, chrysanthemums punctuating a somber landscape. It's Halloween highjinx, pumpkins grinning toothy smiles, the crack of pecan pressed against pecan. It's the first curls of woodsmoke, fresh blisters from pushing a rake. It's crisp and fresh and mellow and snug, solemn and melancholy. And it's very, very welcome.
~GHMIP: Logged |
thequeen
unregistered
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posted August 23, 2016 04:50 AM
A great combinations of oxymorons, could imagine a forest with hazy smoke a little sombre though…loneliness and imaginations... good piece...IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 23, 2016 12:31 PM
quote:
Originally posted by thequeen:
A great combinations of oxymorons, could imagine a forest with hazy smoke a little sombre though…loneliness and imaginations... good piece...
It reminded me of harvest time, my counters are full of tomatoes and peppers! I've been making salsa and we've been enjoying it daily. Others I know are making tomato sauce and juice. Canning and freezing their other veggies.. it's a wonderful time of the year full of gardening abundance. Now that it has cooled down camp fires in the evenings have been relaxing as well. IP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted August 23, 2016 01:32 PM
omigosh, Pearlty  ... You're making me melt!!!  Filling my senses here on your words. *crickets chirping* Got Marshmallow? (music) September Song  (Willie Nelson) [4:34] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9nSgMwtkK0 IP: Logged |
thequeen
unregistered
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posted August 23, 2016 01:48 PM
wow such a beautiful and scenic place to live by. Now i can picture that piece you mentioned nearby your home. Seriously if there is heaven on earth it's near nature. Love the way your kins and friends enjoy the delicacies of nature.. just wow ... wish i lived somewhere away from hustle of city... how soothing and satisfactory it might be to pluck the veggies from your own garden...totally divine experience ... IP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted August 23, 2016 02:02 PM
Same wish here, TQ! {{ }} Love Nature!IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted August 30, 2016 09:55 PM
"got marshmallows?"why yes! of course! Mirage, I took a little time and caught up on your Labor's thread..  Thanks for the lovely phone conversation the other day, it did feel like a mini-vacation! Love catching up with you.  Thequeen, you mentioned wishing you could enjoy time away from city life.. hustle and bustle? Cities are beautiful too- the architecture, old cathedrals/churches, interactions...rises and falls, trends, and finery. IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted September 28, 2016 10:03 AM
"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."
~George EliotIP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted September 29, 2016 01:59 AM
TreesI think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree. -- Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)
http://www.poetry-archive.com/k/trees.html#rv0s0XKxsZLRS8IR.99
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Kilmer   (music) Trees (a 'lyric poem' by Joyce Kilmer published in 1914, set to music by Oscar Rasbach in 1922, perf by David Whitfield) [2:28] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAaPJUy65RQ IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted September 29, 2016 02:22 PM
Mirage I remember reading that poem ^ and thinking it beautiful, still resonates the same today.IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted September 29, 2016 02:35 PM
The Falling of the LeavesAutumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves. The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.
~William Butler Yeats IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted October 06, 2016 09:52 AM
The hermit keeps a window open onto the sky, without which the world would perish from suffocation, ugliness and boredom. He is the only one, along with the poet, who still speaks the language of the beyond, who makes existence sacred, who gives life this verticality without which humanity is buffeted about beneath itself. He is a rampart against the assaults of mediocrity, nastiness, hatred that is intolerant of its opposite. He is this force, made out of weakness, that warms the atmosphere, melts the winter of the world. For men turned toward secondary things, his presence recalls the existence of the essential things: the order of the world, knowledge, the priority of salvation and the adoration of the Supreme, by imitating the sunflower whose heliotropism has much to teach us, who never turns away from the trisolar brightness. Model and prototype, the hermit represents, in a chaotic and dehumanized world, a final landmark, an ultimate axis for reference. He allows man to remain standing by recalling the Absolute; when deprived of the Totality, man becomes totalitarian by compensation.
~Jean BièsIP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted October 24, 2016 07:04 PM
Coming up on Halloween time ... Song of the Witches: 
“Double, double toil and trouble” By William Shakespeare (from Macbeth) Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good. Notes:
Macbeth: IV.i 10-19; 35-38
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/43189 IP: Logged |
Pearlty
Knowflake Posts: 1965
From: Ohio
Registered: Jan 2012
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posted October 24, 2016 11:11 PM
I like your creepy crawly up there Mirage
and of course the added poetry too!Carving pumpkins for Halloween here tomorrow
& roasting seeds.
IP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted November 10, 2016 10:26 PM
quote:
Originally posted by mirage29:
Leonard Cohen's "Prince of Asturias Speech"
[11:48] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIR5ps8usuo Dimensions on Gratitude.... on poetry, song, and guitar
Poet Musician Leonard Cohen died a few hours ago today.
http://www.astro.com/astro-databank/Cohen,_Leonard
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leonard_Cohen “Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” "Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack
A crack in everything
That's how the light gets in." ¯ Leonard Cohen (music) Anthem (Leonard Cohen, lyrics) [9:33] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48AJBXs5dNc IP: Logged |
mirage29
Knowflake Posts: 15191
From: us
Registered: May 2012
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posted November 10, 2016 10:29 PM
quote:
Originally posted by mirage29:
thoughts on the creativity of writing Poetry and Songs ... by Leonard Cohen (( I quote him here, with slight paraphrasings... Some day when I learn to use video-audio software I will post the 'clip' of a few minutes of a very very long 'tube. ))
I always felt that words of poetry and song
were the Ashes of Experience~~
the ashes were well-burned,
you could clarify them,
you could purify them. You get rid of the clinkers and the chunks,
and afterwards what you have left
is Beautiful~~
like Fine White Ash. This is what a really good Song is,
what a good Poem is~~ it could blow away in the wind,
it could blow right through you,
it could blow...right into your Heart. And when you can 'get out of its way'
the way of your own love, it becomes True~~
it doesn't become fixed,
it doesn't become solidified. And when it's not focused rigidly
upon Another Object~~ it broadcasts
in front of you,
in back of you,
to the right of you,
to the left of you,
above you, and
beneath you. = and you find that in that Center,
there's an encompassing Force Field
including Everything~~ there is no outside,
there is no inside,
that needs to look at anything,
nor needs to be looked at... It's like the Taste of Honey
when you're very young,
or like Chocolate
when you need something sweet,
and the result is
that every cell of your body
says thank you Yeah... That's what It's like.
(music) Dance Me To The End Of Love (Leonard Cohen, 1993) [6:21] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ye6JssTdnvw
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