realitybites (13041)

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Journal of realitybites (13041)

Tuesday July 12, 05

some poems that I like ~ today

05:18 PM
  • When You Are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And his his face amid a crowd of stars.

  • W. B. Yeats
  • ~~~~~~~~
  • Mirror

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

  • Sylvia Plath
  • ~~~~~~~~
  • True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

  • Wislawa Szymborska
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  • What a spectrum of poetry you posted for all of us! I especially like the last one: a poem chock full of humor and ironic unsentimentality. Who is this author? I've never heard of her before. :))

    The poems reminded me of this song by The Beautiful South, which I hearby dedicate to you and this journal entry.

      'Til You Can't Tuck It In []
      Your figure like your friendship
      Gradually grows and grows
      The clothes that you thought that you'd shrunk
      Their size just froze

      When the body that you thought of as yours
      Just ups and goes
      I'll be happy with the weight
      Of the partner that I chose

      Your quick-step is slower
      But your spirit's still out on the floor
      And you can still hack it
      'Cause you know what your feet are free for
      And I'll love my dear
      'Til you can't tuck it in anymore, anymore

      Your second grey hair came a month
      After the first
      It didn't make you better
      But it didn't make you feel any worse

      Your third grey hair appeared
      With the fourth on your beard
      Your fifth, sixth, seventh sprouted out
      From your nose and your ears

      And I'll love you my partner
      'Til you can't hide the grey anymore
      Your distinguished good looks
      Am the ones young girls cannot ignore
      And I'll love you my partner
      'Til the grey hairs hairdressers floor, hairdressers floor

      Your eighth and your ninth and your tenth
      You just looked to the sky
      Like the charge of the Light Brigade
      Was passing you by

      Your quick-step is slower
      But your spirit's still out on the floor
      When it comes to raw beauty
      You've a whole whorehouse waiting in store
      Your corset has grown
      Bid you're still always first to the drawer

      And I'll love you my partner (And I'll love you my partner)
      'Til the grey hairs the hairdresser's floor
      Hairdresser's floor, hairdresser's floor
    alainsane -- Wednesday July 13 2005, @07:59AM (#171167)
    (User #460 Info)
  • "fake a little depression for their friends' sake"
    redpathetic -- Wednesday July 13 2005, @02:55PM (#171281)
    (User #6184 Info)
    Happy in this final acceptance of his own absurdity...Albert Camus
    • Re:lol by realitybites (Score:1) Wednesday July 13 2005, @03:07PM
      • Re:lol by redpathetic (Score:1) Thursday July 14 2005, @05:51PM
  • The last one is devine. Thanks for these, Jehne.
    LizzieCat -- Wednesday July 13 2005, @11:12PM (#171335)
    (User #14284 Info)
    Mrs Forman

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