"
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools, singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
- Sara Teasdale
"’Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he."
- William Cowper (1731 - 1800)
"A world without poetry and art would be too much like one without birds or flowers: bearable but a lot less enjoyable."
"Women who have been disappeared by violence are howling. The voices of disappeared women are echoing. I sing with these voices."
No romance is complete without a healthy dose of poetry. Impress those around you with these lyrical and elegant works.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
“Bukowski” by Modest Mouse
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade:
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.
The blackbird has fled to another retreat
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat;
And the scene where his melody charmed me before
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
‘Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.
- “The Poplar Field” by William Cowper
I need opinions on what the best bukowski books are.
Suggestions?
Oh geez, tough pick.
I’ve always been a fan of his poetry in “The Last Night on Earth Poems”
"Joy shakes me like the wind that lifts a sail,
Like the roistering wind
That laughs through stalwart pines.
It floods me like the sun
On rain-drenched trees
That flash with silver and green,
I abandon myself to joy—
I laugh—I sing.
Too long have I walked a desolate way,
Too long stumbled down a maze
Bewildered."
- clarissa scott delany, joy. (via black-poetry)
"
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
- John McCrae
Yvonne Fly Onakeme Etaghene: Why she kicks ass
- She is an Ijaw and Urhobo Nigerian performance activist, poet, dancer, essayist, playwright, actress mixed media visual artist, video blogger and workshop facilitator.
- She uses her poetry to chisel a verbal sculpture of her soul for listeners while addressing issues of race, ethnicity, class, gender, sexuality, war, imperialism, love, self-esteem and family.
- She has self-published three collections of poetry, toured nationally and performed in over 30 u.s. cities.
- She was interviewed by and is a Contributing Writer to None on Record: Stories of Queer Africa, a sound documentary project that collects the stories of QLGBT Africans from the African Continent and the Diaspora.
- Her one woman show, Volcano’s Birthright{s}, debuted in May 2009 in New York City. Her performative work can be found at: www.youtube.com/AfrocrownDiva.
(via thisisnotafrica)
"The Lord,
She took her time–
To curl
every
strand
of my hair
to create
My Crown–
My Glory–
My Halo!"
- kelley m. page, halo. (via black-poetry)
