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Old 08-31-2007, 09:06 PM   #136
brightpearl
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^that's excellent, reminds me of the Wendell Berry poem I posted in the inspiration-futility thread.
------------------------------------

February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.

Go hire a buggy. For six coins,
Race through the noise of bells and wheels
To where the ink and all your grieving
Are muffled when the rain shower falls.

To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal,
A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees,
Fall down into the puddles, hurl
Dry sadness deep into the eyes.

Below, the wet black earth shows through,
With sudden cries the wind is pitted,
The more haphazard, the more true
The poetry that sobs its heart out.

~Boris Pasternak

Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать!
Писать о феврале навзрыд,
Пока грохочащая слякоть
Весною черною горит.

Достать пролетку. За шесть гривен
Чрез благовест, чрез клик колес
Перенестись туда, где ливень
Еще шумней чернил и слез.

Где, как обугленные груши,
С деревьев тысячи грачей
Сорвутся в лужи и обрушат
Сухую грусть на дно очей.

Под ней проталины чернеют,
И ветер криками изрыт,
И чем случайней, тем вернее
Слагаются стихи навзрыд.

Last edited by brightpearl : 09-14-2007 at 10:37 AM. Reason: typo
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Old 09-14-2007, 10:07 AM   #137
trisherina
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EARTH, round, rolling, compact—suns, moons, animals—
all these are words to be said;
Watery, vegetable, sauroid advances—
beings, premonitions, lispings of the future,
Behold! these are vast words to be said.

Were you thinking that those were the words—
those upright lines? those curves, angles, dots?
No, those are not the words—the substantial words
are in the ground and sea,
They are in the air—they are in you.

Were you thinking that those were the words—
those delicious sounds out of your friends' mouths?
No, the real words are more delicious than they.

Human bodies are words, myriads of words;
In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or
woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay,
Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or
the need of shame.

-- Walt Whitman
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Old 09-15-2007, 09:02 PM   #138
Pixie Cherries
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Beauty through photo retouching. A fascinating form of art.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=aHLpRxAmCrw
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Last edited by Pixie Cherries : 09-15-2007 at 09:03 PM. Reason: Would not embed my video from YouTube, so I insterted the link instead.
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Old 10-19-2007, 10:00 AM   #139
T.I.P.
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June Second 1910

When the shadow of the sash appeared on the curtains it was between
seven and eight oclock and then I was in time again, hearing the watch.
It was Grandfather's and when Father gave it to me he said I give you
the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it's rather excrutiating-ly apt
that you will use it to gain the reducto-absurdum of all human experi-
ence which can fit your individual needs no better than it fitted his or
his father's. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that
you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your
breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They
are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and
despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

It was propped against the collar box and I lay listening to it. Hearing
it, that is. I don't suppose anybody ever deliberately listens to a watch or
a clock. You don't have to. You can be oblivious to the sound for a long
while, then in a second of ticking it can create in the mind unbroken
the long diminishing parade of time you didn't hear. Like Father said
down the long and lonely light-rays you might see Jesus walking, like.
And the good Saint Francis that said Little Sister Death, that never had
a sister.


~The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner
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Old 10-27-2007, 02:18 PM   #140
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For all we ought to have thought and have not thought. For all we ought to have done and have not done. For all we ought to have said and have not said. For this that you have said, THANK YOU.
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Old 10-27-2007, 07:35 PM   #141
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Old 11-12-2007, 02:03 AM   #142
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^beautiful. Much more beautiful than the naked Paris Hilton thread, anyway.
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Old 01-31-2008, 07:57 AM   #143
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.

terner - terns

Quote:
Originally Posted by kjartan trana
The picture is taken in the Namsenfjord outside Namsos in the middel of Norway. Its taken on the darkes time of day, at 01:00. We almost got midnigth sun in june. It was a beautyfull summernigth when my familly went to sleep in our cabin, I took my camera and the boat out in the fjord. Could not wast this nigth with sleep … I think the shuttertime is 1/13 sec, f 2.8, iso 200. … Not much work done in Photshop, just some adjusting brigthnes/contrast. Its the same old stiory; about beeing at the rigth place at the rigth time!”

Kjartan Trana
home
Havørn- eagles

Norsk natur - landscape

Norske dyr - wildlife

Norske fugler - birds

Ugler - owls
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Old 01-31-2008, 05:15 PM   #144
brightpearl
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Marsh, Hawk
~ Margaret Atwood

Diseased or unwanted
trees, cut into pieces, thrown
away here, damp and soft in the sun, rotting and half-
covered with sand, burst truck
tires, abandoned, bottles and cans hit
with rocks or bullets, a mass grave,
someone made it, it spreads on the
land like a bruise and we stand on it, vantage
point, looking out over the marsh.

Expanse of green
reeds, patches of water, shapes
just out of reach of the eyes,
the wind moves, moves it and it
eludes us, it is full
daylight. From the places
we can't see the guttural swamp voices
impenetrable, not human,
utter their one-note
syllables, boring and
significant as oracles and quickly over.

It will not answer, it will not
answer, though we hit
it with rocks, there is a splash, the wind
covers it over; but
intrusion is not what we want,
we want it to open, the marsh rushes
to bend aside, the water
to accept us, it is only
revelation, simple as the hawk
which lifts up now against
the sun and into
our eyes, wingspread and sharp call
filling the head / sky, this,

to immerse, to have it slide
through us, disappearance
of the skin, this is what we are looking for,
the way in.
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Old 02-06-2008, 06:09 AM   #145
Pixie Cherries
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A Color of the Sky
by Tony Hoagland

Windy today and I feel less than brilliant,
driving over the hills from work.
There are the dark parts on the road
when you pass through clumps of wood
and the bright spots where you have a view of the ocean,
but that doesn’t make the road an allegory.

I should call Marie and apologize
for being so boring at dinner last night,
but can I really promise not to be that way again?
And anyway, I’d rather watch the trees, tossing
in what certainly looks like sexual arousal.

Otherwise it’s spring, and everything looks frail;
the sky is baby blue, and the just-unfurling leaves
are full of infant chlorophyll,
the very tint of inexperience.

Last summer’s song is making a comeback on the radio,
and on the highway overpass,
the only metaphysical vandal in America has written
MEMORY LOVES TIME
in big black spraypaint letters,
which makes us wonder if Time loves Memory back.

Last night I dreamed of X again.
She’s like a stain on my subconscious sheets.
Years ago she penetrated me
but though I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
I never got her out,
but now I’m glad.

What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel.
What I thought was an injustice
turned out to be a color of the sky.

Outside the youth center, between the liquor store
and the police station,
a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;
overflowing with blossomfoam,
like a sudsy mug of beer;
like a bride ripping off her clothes,
dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds,

so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.

It’s been doing that all week:
making beauty,
and throwing it away,
and making more.

You can find it here: http://poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=171303
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"Love is.........an act of endless forgiveness."

Last edited by Pixie Cherries : 02-06-2008 at 07:45 AM.
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Old 05-05-2008, 12:56 PM   #146
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the lake isle of innisfree - w.b.yeats, 1893
i will arise and go 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 mourning 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.
~
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Old 05-25-2008, 10:12 PM   #147
brightpearl
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To Earthward

Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air

That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of - was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Down hill at dusk?

I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.

I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.

Now no joy but lacks salt
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain

Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.

When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,

The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.

- Robert Frost
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Old 07-21-2008, 09:56 PM   #148
MoJoRiSin
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Bittersweet

———-
In my hallucination
I saw my beloved’s flower garden
In my vertigo, in my dizziness
In my drunken haze
Whirling and dancing like a spinning wheelI saw myself as the source of existence
I was there in the beginning
And I was the spirit of love
Now I am sober
There is only the hangover
And the memory of love
And only the sorrow
I yearn for happiness
I ask for help
I want mercy
And my love says:

Look at me and hear me
Because I am here
Just for that

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way, eager for you
Without shoes or shawl

I want you to laugh
To kill all your worries
To love you
To nourish you

Oh sweet bitterness
I will soothe you and heal you
I will bring you roses
I, too, have been covered with thorns

~RUMI
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Old 08-01-2008, 05:59 PM   #149
monkeyknifightz
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My Buttercup.
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Old 08-02-2008, 10:11 PM   #150
l'azizza
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Mushrooms


Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.

Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes.

We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.

So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.

Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.

Our foot’s in the door.

-Sylvia Plath
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