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Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 13:47
by Solitaire
A Poison Tree
By
William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

:cry: Never hold in your anger, m8s. It'll end in disaster. I wuv this poem. I do I do.

Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 13:51
by Solitaire
April Aubade
by Sylvia Plath

Worship this world of watercolor mood in glass pagodas hung with veils of green where diamonds jangle hymns within the blood and sap ascends the steeple of the vein. A saintly sparrow jargons madrigals to waken dreamers in the milky dawn, while tulips bow like a college of cardinals before that papal paragon, the sun. Christened in a spindrift of snowdrop stars, where on pink-fluted feet the pigeons pass and jonquils sprout like solomon's metaphors, my love and I go garlanded with grass. Again we are deluded and infer that somehow we are younger than we were.

<3 paints a picture of spring.

Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 17:26
by Artemisia
Rozkvetlý smutek (Karel Hlaváček,1874 - 1898 )

Do říše mořských pralesů
svůj černý smutek zanesu -

a sémě jeho dědičné
rozhodím v proudy měsíčné,

ve věčný led, ve věčný sníh,
v nárazy větrů polárních.

Ty do truchlících lilií
až jeho sémě zasijí,

snad v lijáku slz palčivých
tam v sopránový vzkvete smích.

Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 19:36
by snakes
What can I hold you with?
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the
moon of the jagged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked
long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts
that living men have honoured in bronze:
my father's father killed in the frontier of
Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs,
bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in
the hide of a cow; my mother's grandfather
--just twentyfour-- heading a charge of
three hundred men in Peru, now ghosts on
vanished horses.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold,
whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never
been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved,
somehow --the central heart that deals not
in words, traffics not with dreams, and is
untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at
sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about
yourself, authentic and surprising news of
yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

:cry:


i wrote it

Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 20:10
by Solitaire
:shock: you're now my new favorite writer. It's interesting how the most touching poetry stems from such sorrow. I request more!

Poems

PostPosted: 31 Mar 2013, 21:28
by snakes
i can't lie to you anymore i didn't write it it was borges :cry:

You Learn

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth…

And you learn and learn…

With every good-bye you learn.

Poems

PostPosted: 01 Apr 2013, 00:53
by Guest
Poems are gay.

Poems

PostPosted: 01 Apr 2013, 10:48
by Artemisia
Foolsy wrote:Poems are gay.

So are you. What are the odds!

Poems

PostPosted: 01 Apr 2013, 14:49
by Solitaire
snakes wrote:i can't lie to you anymore i didn't write it it was borges :cry:

You Learn

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth…

And you learn and learn…

With every good-bye you learn.


Jorge Luis Borges, eh? Thank you for your honesty :lol: I would not have figured it out otherwise.

I bet his writing is even prettier in Spanish! Look at them metaphors up above. I read and post in awe.

Poems

PostPosted: 01 Apr 2013, 14:50
by Solitaire
Artemisia wrote:Rozkvetlý smutek (Karel Hlaváček,1874 - 1898 )

Do říše mořských pralesů
svůj černý smutek zanesu -

a sémě jeho dědičné
rozhodím v proudy měsíčné,

ve věčný led, ve věčný sníh,
v nárazy větrů polárních.

Ty do truchlících lilií
až jeho sémě zasijí,

snad v lijáku slz palčivých
tam v sopránový vzkvete smích.


Can you translate this, mate? :cry: