Categories
Poetry

The Eagle

-by Lord Alfred Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 

Categories
Poetry

The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm

– by Wallace Stevens.

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.

And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

Categories
Poetry

XXII

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
 
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.

– Emily Dickinson, Complete Poems

Categories
Poetry

O sweet spontaneous

by e.e. cummings

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

             fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

        beauty      how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
         (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

             thou answerest


them only with

                              spring)

Categories
Poetry

//heroes

Keep your friends close

And your enemies closer

But your heroes

Keep them

As far away as possible

Categories
Poetry

unnamed

my real name

was stolen

by you

years and years

they called me by names

i did not understand

but now

now

i’m coming to take it

give it back

Categories
Poetry

On Love — Khalil Gibran

Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.
     And he raised his head and looked upon
the people, and there fell a stillness upon
them. And with a great voice he said:
     When love beckons to you, follow him,
     Though his ways are hard and steep.
     And when his wings enfold you yield to
him,
     Though the sword hidden among his
pinions may wound you.
     And when he speaks to you believe in
him,
     Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

     For even as love crowns you so shall he
crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
     Even as he ascends to your height and
caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
     So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
                                       •
     Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto
himself.
     He threshes you to make you naked.
     He sifts you to free you from your husks.
     He grinds you to whiteness.
     He kneads you until you are pliant;
     And then he assigns you to his sacred
fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God’s sacred feast.

     All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your
heart, and in that knowledge become a
fragment of Life’s heart.

     But if in your fear you would seek only
love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
     Then it is better for you that you cover
your nakedness and pass out of love’s
threshing-floor,
     Into the seasonless world where you
shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears.
                                      •
     Love gives naught but itself and takes
naught but from itself.
     Love possesses not nor would it be
possessed;
     For love is sufficient unto love.

     When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am
in the heart of God.”
     And think not you can direct the course
of love, for love, if it finds you worthy,
directs your course.

     Love has no other desire but to fulfil
itself.
     But if you love and must needs have
desires, let these be your desires:
     To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.
     To know the pain of too much tenderness.
     To be wounded by your own under-
standing of love;
     And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
     To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;
     To rest at the noon hour and meditate
love’s ecstasy;
     To return home at eventide with grati-
tude;

     And then to sleep with a prayer for the
beloved in your heart and a song of praise
upon your lips.

Photo by Kamal Bilal on Unsplash