Excerpts of poems In response to the Christmas meme ![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_t9I2XRwi4KE34jKWDanKYIbgR9zAkG1-ynvtXDdSnuJcu_x0zj08KGRg37YyFPfCIx8Hw3aTImTC7R-LnavWkT8LP7PmVm7FHgy71wrxxygeJItg=s0-d)
harriet_yuuko , grooming one that got the community
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greatpoets since the watch. We hope that you also touch and inspire many great stories, or at least fleeting ideas of stories:)
From
Should you go first, Albert Rowswell:
Should you go first and I
To Remain walk the road alone,
I'll live in memory's garden, dear, With happy days we've
known.
In spring I'll watch for roses red When fades the lilac blue
,
In early Fall
When brown leaves call I'll catch a glimpse of you.
From Sons, which stupidly I did not save the author and do not find on Google:
I say "as in your boyhood you yourself were scarred."
Behind you there's another and another shade:
the sons who found their path to manhood barred.
The love that came before us leaves us scarred.
Da Textbook Statistics , di Arkaye Kierulf:
Where are you headed, traveler?
is a valid philosophical question to pose to a man, I think, along with
Why does the blood in your veins travel endlessly?
on account of those red cells flowing night and day
through the traffic of the blood vessels, which if laid out
Ibidem, poco più avanti:
As owls are the only birds that can see the color blue
the ocean is bluish, along with the sky and the eyes
of that boy who died alone by that little unnamed river
in your dreams one blue night of the war
of one of your lives. (Do you remember which one?)
Da Song on the end of the world , di Czeslaw Milosz:
Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
No other end of the world there will be,
No other end of the world there will be.
Da Photo of You Disappearing , di Elizabeth Spires:
Are ends like beginnings? At your service,
the minister said, She fixed her eyes upon that shining shore.
If I climbed the mountain, would I find the trail you took?
Would your footsteps lead me to a pass that opens west,
always west, where you went on alone, no turning back?
I stare at the picture that tells me everything and nothing.
You are smiling. The air is perfectly clear.
Da Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte di Rainer Maria Rilke, tradotto dal tedesco da Stephen Mitchell:
Streets that I chanced upon, -
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled,
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…
Tutta Please bring strange things di Ursula K. Le Guin perché sono una fangirl spudorata:
Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
and the ways you go be the lines on your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
and your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well loved one,
walk mindfully, well loved one,
walk fearlessly, well loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
be always coming home.
Da Finding my Elegy , di Ursula K. Le Guin:
That desert is no place for you. And so I looked
where death is birth and gods are animals
and being flows through being as from spring
river flows into river to the sea;
but what's to mourn, if life betakes itself into
another life? Better a rite of passage
Da
A quoi bon dire , di Charlotte Mew:
Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
But I.
From
Upon Discovering My Entire Solution to the Attainment of Immortality Erased from the Blackboard exce , Dobby Gibson
If You Have Seen The snow slowly fall
somewhere on a bicycle,
You Understand
then all will be lost beauty and
That even the loss can be beautiful.
