Oasis.

[Namaste]

Music I Heard -- Conrad Aiken

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart that you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,
- They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.

 

[Namaste]

Rain Flogs -- Bella Akhmadulina

Rain flogs my face and collar-bones,
a thunderstorm roars over musts.
You thrust upon my flesh and soul,
like tempests upon ships do thrust.

I do not want, at all, to know,
what will befall to me the next –
would I be smashed against my woe,
or thrown into happiness.

In awe and gaiety elated,
like a ship, that’s going tempests through,
I am not sorry that I’ve met you,
and not afraid to love you, too.

 

[Namaste]

Experience -- James Emanuel

"To all things great and glorious":
his wine moved to his lips.
"There are so few," she answered;
her brim touched his fingertips.

They stared the fire into an ash;
their glasses bent their hands
while they, enchanted wistfully,
re-travelled many lands.

 

[Namaste]

Light Sleep -- Hazel Hall

Women who sing themselves to sleep
Lie with their hands at rest,
Locked over them night-long as though to keep
Music against their breast.

They who have feared the night and lain
Mumbling themselves to peace
Sleep a light sleep lest they forget the strain
That brings them their release.

They dream, who hold beneath the hand
A crumpled shape of song,
Of trembling sound they do not understand,
Yet love the whole night long.

Women who sing themselves to sleep
Must lie in fear till day,
Clasping an amulet of words to keep
The leaning dark away.

 

[Namaste]

The Taxi -- Amy Lowell

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

 

[Namaste]

All Things Conspire -- Judith Wright

All things conspire to hold me from you-
even my love,
since that would unmask you and unname you
till merely woman and man we live.
All men wear arms against the rebel-
and they are wise,
since the sound world they know and stable
is eaten away by lovers' eyes.

All things conspire to stand between us-
even you and,
who still command us, still unjoin us,
and drive us forward till we die.
Not till those fiery ghosts are laid
shall we be one.
Till then they whet our double blade
and use the turning world for stone.

 

[Namaste]

A Farewell -- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
No where by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

 

[Namaste]

Echo -- Christina Rossetti

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory of hope, love of finished years.

Oh dream how sweet, to sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose waking should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My life again tho' cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago.

 

[Namaste]

The Lake Of Innisfree -- William Butler Yeats

I will arise now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

 

[Namaste]

Sorrow Catches Up -- Sandy Starr

the house is too quiet
I don't know where to turn
so I walk in circles
following my spinning mind
if I could get to the shoreline I would walk it
in its entirety and turn around walking back
just to feel a sense of direction
and soak up the power along the edge of land

I need to walk toward the setting sun
and turn to meet it rising
following the light
a constant motion
running away from this dim space
this empty feeling
within my soul

 

[Namaste]

Acquainted With The Night -- Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say goodbye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

 

[Namaste]

Love Letter To The Editor -- Lou Plummer

Wrote a love letter to the editor
of the New York Times Book Review
to thank her for ignoring you.
If you were too well known
the reading world would devour you
prose and all.

The book, though yours
is mine
to share with capable friends
not covet, nor hoard in uncondoned selfishness.

Lying in bed after midnight
savoring the small paragraphs
as always
disdaining nothing
touching the soul.

 

[Namaste]

Insomnia -- Veronica A Shoffstall

It wasn't so much her losses
that haunted her in the night.
They were slight compared
to those of tortured souls
whose path she crossed.
So slight, in fact,
she had no right to complain,
no noble pain to valiantly fight,
just a growing list
of things not attained -
a string of almosts and never-dids,
never-hads and never-woulds -
that marched a macabre parade
through her brain,
her unborn dreams aborted
by unnamed fears.
No flowers from friends, no funeral,
no stone to mark the site,
just an arid patch of soul
where nothing grew.

 

[Namaste]

Like Michinoku prints
Of the tangled leaves of ferns,
It is because of you
That I have become confused;
But my love for you remains.

-- Ogura Hyakunin Isshu

 

[Namaste]

In My Secret Life -- Leonard Cohen

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In my secret life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In my secret life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of my secret life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank g-d it’s not that simple
In my secret life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In my secret life.

 

[Gusty Wind]

Namaste.

Have a good day Sir.

 

[weed]

A bittersweet collection of poetry. TY for sharing.

And nice av choice Namaste.

 

[Namaste]

Thanks, Gusty and Weed.

Kind words from wise, gentle women

 

[Namaste]

Love Is A Stranger -- Eurythmics

Love is a stranger
In an open car
To tempt you in
And drive you far away

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
It's an obsession

Love is a danger
Of a different kind
To take you away
And leave you far behind
And love love love
Is a dangerous drug
You have to receive it
And you still can't
Get enough of the stuff

It's savage and it's cruel
And it shines like destruction
Comes in like the flood
And it seems like religion
It's noble and it's brutal
It distorts and deranges
And it wrenches you up
And you're left like a zombie

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
It's an obsession

It's guilt edged
Glamorous and sleek by design
You know it's jealous by nature
False and unkind
It's hard and restrained
And it's totally cool
It touches and it teases
As you stumble in the debris

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
It's an obsession

 

[Namaste]

The Long Goodbye -- Ronan Keating

I know they say if you love somebody
You should set them free (so they say)
But it sure is hard to do
Yeah, it sure is hard to do
And I know they say if they don't come back again
Then it's meant to be ( so they say)
But those words ain't pulling me through
Cos I'm still in love with you
I spend each day here waiting for a miracle
But it's just you and me going through the mill
(climbin' up a hill)

This is the long goodbye
Somebody tell me why
Two lovers in love can't make it
Just what kind of love keeps breaking a heart?
No matter how hard I try
You're gonna make me cry
Come on, baby, it's over, let's face it
All that's happening here is a long goodbye

Sometimes I ask my heart did we really
Give our love a chance (just one more chance)
And I know without a doubt
I turned it inside out
And if we walked away
Would make more sense (only self defense)
But it tears me up inside
Just to think we still could try
How long must we keep riding on a carousel
Going round and round and never getting anywhere?
(on a wing and prayer)

This is the long goodbye
Somebody tell me why
Two lovers in love can't make it
Just what kind of love keeps breaking a heart?
No matter how hard I try
You're gonna make me cry
Come on, baby, it's over, let's face it
All that's happening here is the long goodbye

The long goodbye
The long goodbye
This is the long goodbye

Someone please tell me why

Are you ever coming back again
Are you ever coming back again
Are you ever coming back again
Guess I'm never coming back again

 

[Namaste]

bridge of sighs -- venice

http://www.gregfolio.com/07-25-Venice-bridgeofsighs.jpg

 

[Namaste]

Borrowed Time

I borrowed time from the Bank of Selfishness
Which was only too happy to finance my complicity
And guarantee my duplicity
While I went about my business of gratifying need.
Admiring what I’d borrowed with the investments of another
I desperately loved my ill-gotten gain with shameless abandon
Hugged it close to my breast as if it were mine
Snatching a little here, a little there
Paying back the interest with occasional tears
But never servicing the capital,
Which grew fat and swollen with the blood of us.
I’ll think about it tomorrow,” I softly sighed,
Opening my arms and embracing hedonism
While I stashed your deposits with wanton disregard.
Today, the Bank of Selfishness recalled my loan.
“Pay on demand,” it insisted coldly.
I eyed the balance owing with black despair
It was monstrously engorged with the passage of time.
I begged for respite, desperate to delay the inevitable.
“Pay on demand!” it repeated simply, sternly.
“It doesn’t belong to you, and now you must pay.”
I borrowed time for a non-appreciating asset
And I’ll be paying my loss back with interest
For the rest of my life.

 

[Namaste]

snapshot

She's running along the sand on stubby, plump legs, peals of laughter ringing through the salt spray air as she stumbles after the gulls. They click their beaks angrily at her, their coal black eyes flashing with annoyance as they scurry before her on the scalloped shore.

As I watch her, I watch you, and I glimpse the same steely resolve in her baby eyes, and the same set to her jaw, as the ones I know and love in you. She'll never catch those birds, but gifted with her father's spirit and her mother's grit, she tries all the same.

Then, tiring of that game, she sits squatly in the damp sand, pink spade clutched in her chubby fist as she fixes us with a determined stare. "Castle, daddy!" she demands, banging her bucket with her spade. "Help, mommy, help!" Then she smiles sweetly, her dimples flashing as she wraps us effortlessly around her finger with joyful exuberance.

Do you see her? A beautiful child, this life sprung from us.

I see her.

Never born, but still she lives.

 

[Namaste]

Déjà vu Duet -- Jennifer Lagier

Stunted simians,
we sit at this sad bar
and exhume the past,
explore what still hurts,
which wounds remain bleeding.

You compliment my scars.
I admire your bruising.
All the while, we secretly contemplate
what untouched parts might respond
to renewed mutilation.

Weekly, we meet
to remove any protective scabs,
use mutually inflicted pain
as communication.

Let's review it again and again,
probe what still twitches,
dissect any quivering,
overlooked wholeness.

 

[Namaste]

Hyacinth -- Edna St Vincent Millay

I am in love with him
To whom a hyacinth is dearer
Than I shall ever be dear.

On nights when the field-mice
Are abroad, he cannot sleep.
He hears their narrow teeth
At the bulbs of his hyacinths.

But the gnawing at my heart...
He does not hear.