extemporally (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
extemporally) wrote2009-02-04 06:14 pm
extemporally) wrote2009-02-04 06:14 pm
:| is right
when you see this, post your favourite poem.
I don't have a favourite, but I do like this one, very much:
The Truth The Dead Know
For my Mother, born March 1902, died March 1959
and my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.
My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.
And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
Anne Sexton
I've been feeling rather depressed these few days - nothing much really, just a grey that's tinged with longing and regret and an impending sense of doom, and I haven't been looking forward to life as much as I usually do. Sorry, guys - especially new friends, I'm not like this all the time, I swear. Please come say hi, and tell me all about yourselves! That would cheer me up, yes. ♥
I don't have a favourite, but I do like this one, very much:
The Truth The Dead Know
For my Mother, born March 1902, died March 1959
and my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.
My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.
And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
Anne Sexton
I've been feeling rather depressed these few days - nothing much really, just a grey that's tinged with longing and regret and an impending sense of doom, and I haven't been looking forward to life as much as I usually do. Sorry, guys - especially new friends, I'm not like this all the time, I swear. Please come say hi, and tell me all about yourselves! That would cheer me up, yes. ♥
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*hugs*
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I like Simon Armitage's poetry, he's from the North of England near where I'm from.
About His Person
Five pounds fifty in change, exactly,
a library card on its date of expiry.
A postcard stamped,
unwritten, but franked,
a pocket size diary slashed with a pencil
from March twenty-fourth to the first of April.
A brace of keys for a mortise lock,
an analogue watch, self winding, stopped.
A final demand
in his own hand,
a rolled up note of explanation
planted there like a spray carnation
but beheaded, in his fist.
A shopping list.
A givaway photgraph stashed in his wallet,
a kepsake banked in the heart of a locket.
no gold or silver,
but crowning one finger
a ring of white unweathered skin.
That was everything.
---
Everyone's assumptions about this man are different, I think. Given that I lost my dad to suicide last year I really, really think it's about suicide. The "rolled up note of explanation", for one thing.
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I think it's about suicide too. What are the other theories? And, cliched as it might sound, and as much as you might have heard this, I'm really, truly sorry about your dad.
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I dunno what the other theories are, maybe just about him leaving his wife?
And thank you. It's always appreciated.
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I'm sorry you're not feeling great right now, it really sucks when you go through patches like that.
Hi! I don't really know what to say now. ;) Some randomness. I have a cat. I love the boys in the bands. I [occasionaly] make lj layouts. I'm English but I've been living in Australia for the last 5 1/2 years. I love reccing awesome fic.
:D
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People who make lj layouts and rec awesome fic are always welcome here! And you have a cat! :DDDDD What's his/her name?
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His name is Frodo! Because I was that obsessed. ;)
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Ikr, this icon is epic! ♥_♥
Re: have a piece of the Desiderata
Then indecision brings its own delays,
And days are lost lamenting over lost days.
Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute;
What you can do, or dream you can do, begin it;
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
and Rudyard Kipling's If:
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
Okay, I'm going to read the entire thing now!
Re: have a piece of the Desiderata
how dense am I?? I just realised where the universe tends to unfold as it should comes from! Oh, Sisky. ♥_____♥
Re: have a piece of the Desiderata
(Boyfriends who read poetry to each other. Boyfriendssssss.)