Elusive Words

Poetry that fascinates me

[hazardsoflove-archive-deactivat]

that wilfred owen poem about everyone kissing the crucifix but he kisses the hands of the boy whos holding it hits HARD not sure why but damn

[hazardsoflove-archive-deactivat]

found it....

[11990904]

[wishbzne-deactivated20210526]

Sandra Cisneros, from I the Woman

[villings]

Estoy sola, pero siempre estoy sola: Es lo único cierto. El amor era un huésped, la soledad es siempre el compañero que permanece al lado, inconmovible. Lo único seguro, verdadero. Oigo mi corazón, vieja campana que dobla y que golpea, que rebota en las sienes y en la nuca y en la boca y los dedos. Es cierto, tengo miedo. Miedo de no poder gritar, de pronto, de que ya sea demasiado tarde para un ruego. La costumbre ahoga las palabras y alarga el desencuentro. Ah, tantas cosas quedarán ocultas, perdidas, sin recuerdo, tantas palabras que no fueron dichas, tantos gestos.

Julia Prilutzky Farny

[darkacademiaquotes]

"I wish I knew what to do with my life, what to do with my heart...I do nothing all day, boredom settles in, I look at the sky so I get to feel even smaller than I already feel and my mind keeps poisoning itself uselessly."

-Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath

[elusivewordss]

Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers by Adrienne Rich (1951)

Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen,

Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.

They do not fear the men beneath the tree;

They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.

Aunt Jennifer's finger fluttering through her wool

Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.

The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band

Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand.

When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie

Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.

The tigers in the panel that she made

Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.

[elusivewordss]

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost (1928)

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 good-bye;

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.

[elusivewordss]

For the Anniversary of My Death by W. S. Merwin (1967)

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day

When the last fires will wave to me

And the silence will set out

Tireless traveler

Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer

Find myself in life as in a strange garment

Surprised at the earth

And the love of one woman

And the shamelessness of men

As today writing after three days of rain

Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease

And bowing not knowing to what

[elusivewordss]

You fit into me by Margaret Atwood (1971)

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

[elusivewordss]

Simile by N. Scott Momaday (1974)

What did we say to each other

that now we are as the deer

who walk in single file

with heads high

with ears forward

with eyes watchful

with hooves always placed on firm ground

in whose limbs there is latent flight

[elusivewordss]

Even the croaking of frogs by Hakuro Wada (1943)

Even the croaking of frogs

comes from outside the barbed wire fence

this is our life

[elusivewordss]

Born Again by Jennifer Brutschy

Born Again

she speaks excitedly

of death.

[elusivewordss]

Silence by Marianne Moore (1924)

My father used to say,

"Superior people never make long visits,

have to be shown Longfellow's grave

or the glass flowers at Harvard.

Self-reliant like the cat—

that takes its prey to privacy,

the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth—

they sometimes enjoy solitude,

and can be robbed of speech

by speech which has delighted them.

The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;

not in silence, but restraint."

Nor was he insincere in saying, "Make my house your inn."

Inns are not residences.

[elusivewordss]

Southeast Corner by Gwendolyn Brooks (1945)

The School of Beauty’s a tavern now.

The Madam is underground.

Out at Lincoln, among the graves

Her own is early found.

Where the thickest, tallest monument

Cuts grandly into the air

The Madam lies, contentedly.

Her fortune, too, lies there,

Converted into cool hard steel

And right red velvet lining;

While over her tan impassivity

Shot silk is shining.

[elusivewordss]

Swan and Shadow by John Hollander (1969)

[elusivewordss]

The Runner by Walt Whitman (1867)

On a flat road runs the well-train'd runner;

He is lean and sinewy, with muscular legs;

He is thinly clothed—he leans forward as he runs,

With lightly closed fists, and arms partially rais'd.

[elusivewordss]

Hole in the ozone by Garry Gay

Hole in the ozone

My bald spot . . .

sunburned