Poet's Corner

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Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life. Why pin ourselves down on a paradisal ideal? It is only ourselves we torture. ~D.H. Lawrence
 
I assume he will read it when my day is done. :lol:


I remember when I could do no wrong,
My words heard as a valued song.
His eyes, they shone of cultured pearl,
His love waved akin to the tail of a squirrel.

Now he has grown and sees so clear,
Father can be wrong even if held dear.
His words show perception edgewise and tall,
From a boy who once was so very small.

My love is allowing him to make his stand,
Grow his wisdom from his very own hand.
To share my story and leave it at that,
For he is now the one who is "at bat".

Today I see glimmers of that childish view,
Tendered in thoughts of the adult so true.
Willingly knowing that he shall be so,
If only allowed to blossom and grow.

I have had to write a eulogy. :(
 
"Am I in love? Absolutely. I'm in love with ancient philosophers, foreign painters, classic authors, and musicians who have died long ago. I'm a passionate lover. I fawn over these people. I have given them my heart and my soul. The trouble is, I'm unable to love anyone tangible. I have sacrificed a physical bond, for a metaphysical relationship. I am the ultimate idealistic lover."

~ James Dean.

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"Am I in love? Absolutely. I'm in love with ancient philosophers, foreign painters, classic authors, and musicians who have died long ago. I'm a passionate lover. I fawn over these people. I have given them my heart and my soul. The trouble is, I'm unable to love anyone tangible. I have sacrificed a physical bond, for a metaphysical relationship. I am the ultimate idealistic lover."

~ James Dean.

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Thankyou for posting that. James Dean was an interesting fellow in so many ways. Your post sort of blew me away. :)
 
The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person—without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot he taken by the other, because it is not given by the other. ~Osho

(Book: New Man for the New Millennium https://amzn.to/3F15mpr)
(Art: 'One Reflection', 1998 by Clive Smith)


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"Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?"

-Chapter VI, The King of the Golden Hall, Book III, The Lord of the Rings

Artwork by woutart.

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There is a time for love and laughter
The days will pass like summer storms
The winter wind will follow after
But there is love and love is warm

There is a time for us to wander
When time is young and so are we
The woods are greener over yonder
The path is new the world is free

There is a time when leaves are fallin'
The woods are gray the paths are old
The snow will come when geese are callin'
You need a fire against the cold

So do your roaming in the springtime
And you'll find your love in the summer sun
The frost will come and bring the harvest
And you can sleep when day is done ------ Author - Dillards
 
Post your favorite poems and/or any original poems--here is one of my favorite poets:

I Know the Way You Can Get
by Hafiz

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one's self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love's
Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!
Hickory dickory dock....

....no, I can't bring g myself to do it!
 
I always resented all the years, the hours, the minutes I gave them as a working stiff, it actually hurt my head, my insides, it made me dizzy and a bit crazy — I couldn’t understand the murdering of my years yet my fellow workers gave no signs of agony, many of them even seemed satisfied, and seeing them that way drove me almost as crazy as the dull and senseless work. ~Charles Bukowski.


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A kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details, raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee, which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.

- Notes from Wanderer.


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Nothing is ever as beautiful as the first isolated moments with someone who might be able to love you — with someone you yourself might be able to love. There is nothing as silent as these minutes, nothing so saturated with sweet anticipation. It is for these few minutes that we love, not for the many that follow. Never again, they realize, would anything so beautiful ever happen to them. They might be happier, more impassioned, too, and infinitely satiated with their own bodies and with each other’s. But never again would it be so beautiful.

-Stig Dagerman


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"When I moved from
one house to another,
there were many things
I had no room for.
What does one do?
I rented a storage space
and filled it.
Years passed.
Occasionally,
I went there
and looked in,
but nothing happened,
not a single twinge
of the heart.
As I grew older
the things I cared about
grew fewer but were
more important,
so one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man.
He took everything.
I felt like the little donkey
when his burden is finally
lifted.
Things! Burn them, burn them!
Make a beautiful fire!
More room in your heart
for Love, for the trees.
For the birds who own
nothing;
✨

the reason they
can fly."

🕊
Mary Oliver
🎨
Octavio Ocampo, Arte Metamorfico.


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Copious portions of opulence envelope the topography
Important options of portway to post our pontooner
Are a lover the place, we poke our fun pie at the poleman
Cooperate we say, Lord we wiggle in our undies
This aint _a_ its the see I hey!
 
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

~~excerpt from 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

artist:Mildred Anne Butler
The Delegates.

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