Touch me deep...

[Nirvanadragones]

but you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.

your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.

it shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.

you shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.

you shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.

and though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.

for that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.


~ kahlil gibran

 

[inlovewithyourghost]

It's not even a freaking colour

 

[Nirvanadragones]

You may be on the other side of the ocean, but I can still kick your ass when needed.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

You may be on the other side of the ocean, but I can still kick your ass when needed.

I hope you're not talkling about me??

 

[Nirvanadragones]

I hope you're not talkling about me??

I prefer biting your arse, to kicking it.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I prefer biting your arse, to kicking it.

Yummmy, bring it on Baby!!!

 

[Byron In Exile]

You may be on the other side of the ocean, but I can still kick your ass when needed.

You're why this thread is still alive.

 

[Nirvanadragones]

To cut through night you'll need your sharpest scissors. Cut around the birch, the bump of the bird nest on its lowest limb. Then with your nail scissors, trim around the baby beaks waiting for worms to fall from the sky. Snip around the lip of the mailbox and the pervert's shoe peeking out from behind the Chevy. Before dawn, rip the silhouette from the sky and drag it inside. Frame the long black stripe and hang it in the dining room. Sleep. When you wake, redo the scene as day in doily. Now you have a lacy fence, a huge cherry blossom of a holly bush, a birch sugared with snow. Frame the white version and hang it opposite the black. Get your dinner and eat it between the two scenes. Your food will taste just right.

~ Matthea Harvey

 

[impressive]

...and it'd take an industrial accident with acid and a wood chipper to make you ugly.

 

[Nirvanadragones]

when the birds, drowsy with sleep,
have all but forgotten you,
you stop, and for a moment jerk alive.

something has passed through you
that alters and enlightens,
realization of what has gone and was real.
a bleak and uncoded message whispers
down all the nerves.

something has passed a finger through
all your abstract reasoning.
from love you sheltered outside of love but still
the human bit leaked in,
stunned and off-balanced you.

unprepared, struck so suddenly by another's identity,
how can you hold on to any revelation?
you have moved too carefully through your life.
always the light within you is hooded by
your own protecting fingers

~ brian patten

 

[Byron In Exile]

To cut through night you'll need your sharpest scissors. Cut around the birch, the bump of the bird nest on its lowest limb. Then with your nail scissors, trim around the baby beaks waiting for worms to fall from the sky. Snip around the lip of the mailbox and the pervert's shoe peeking out from behind the Chevy. Before dawn, rip the silhouette from the sky and drag it inside. Frame the long black stripe and hang it in the dining room. Sleep. When you wake, redo the scene as day in doily. Now you have a lacy fence, a huge cherry blossom of a holly bush, a birch sugared with snow. Frame the white version and hang it opposite the black. Get your dinner and eat it between the two scenes. Your food will taste just right.

~ Matthea Harvey

Music in words.

But there's no resolution.

 

[Byron In Exile]

Well, I will now share with you a thing that touched me deeply.

It's a poem, but a long one. And from a past age.

I posted it some time ago.

And, yes, I typed it from a book, because I wanted to do it that way.

What touched me deeply was Lord Byron's "Child Harold's Pilgrimage," Canto III.

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=194191

I guess people don't really read poetry anymore.

But in the early 1800's, with no hot and cold running water, with no electricity, poetry was a tremendous art.

You could read it. You didn't need to assemble a group of musicians to play stuff.

Musical thought.

 

[FatDino]

"You are ancient. It's your soul. It's ancient, like it has been through a lot, this life or not. But in the maze, and at the end of it, there is always someone leading you, waiting for you, and welcoming you."

 

[Byron In Exile]

Queen Gertrude
One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

Laertes
Drown'd! Oh, where?

Queen Gertrude
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laertes
Alas, then, she is drown'd?

Queen Gertrude
Drown'd, drown'd.

Laertes
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord:
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
But that this folly doubts it.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

I missed this thread.

I miss Vana.




Under the Harvest Moon
by Carl Sandburg

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

 

[Byron In Exile]

I missed this thread.

I miss Vana.




Under the Harvest Moon
by Carl Sandburg

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

I've enjoyed reading this thread so much more than posting in it.

My contributions are just words in lieu of saying *bump* -- which seems to me rather pedestrian.

 

[Byron In Exile]

*bump*

 

[lesbiaphrodite]

Advice to a Girl

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be blessed:
No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

Sara Teasdale

 

[Safe_Bet]

Advice to a Girl

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be blessed:
No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

Sara Teasdale

{{{{{ DITE!!!!! }}}}}

*POUNCE*

and great big uber hugs!

 

[lesbiaphrodite]

{{{{{ DITE!!!!! }}}}}

*POUNCE*

and great big uber hugs!

Mmmmmmmuah!!! Hi sweetheart. Big tight uber hugs right back 'atcha, babe!

 

[cloudy]

"When I die, if my last words are not I love you, it will be because I didn't have time."

 

[Byron In Exile]

Advice to a Girl

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be blessed:
No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

Sara Teasdale

That was tremendous.

Thank you.

 

[lesbiaphrodite]

From Blossoms
Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

 

[CarolinaHeat]

doing something for her just because
you love her and want to brighten her day.
then hearing the excitement in her voice
when she calls you and tells you
how much it means to her
and that it really made her day.

it's such a rewarding and touching feeling.
*happy sigh*
that reaction totally made my day

 

[Handley_Page]

In the still of the sunset,
Thrush & Blackbird compete
on the treetops
for tuneful dominance.