poppy of the valley

I LOVE YOU RHYME AND METER

[poppyofthevalley]

hello, and welcome to poppy's poetry blog! this is where all my little tidbits will be posted xx

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[poppyofthevalley]

Leaving Cambridge once more by Xu Zhimo (translation)

Softly now I leave just as softly as I came; Softly my hand waves in farewell to western clouds.

That golden willow on the bank, a bride in sunset; Their shimmered shadows in the waves hitching my each breath.

The lilies nestled in the sludge hide restless roots beneath the water; Lapped by the Cambridge waves, I’d gladly sprout along the river.

That elm-shaded pond is no clear spring, is only rainbow; Breaking on the drifting algae, settling something like a dream.

Chasing dreams? take up an oar, upstream where greener grasses spring; Fill a boat with starry glory, in its brightness start to sing.

But I cannot sing aloud, the flute of parting is the quiet; The summer insects are all silent for me—tonight, Cambridge is silent!

Quietly I leave just as quiet as I came; Only lightly wave my sleeves to leave the clouds where they must stay.

再别康桥 (徐志摩)

轻轻的我走了， 正如我轻轻的来； 我轻轻的招手， 作别西天的云彩。 那河畔的金柳， 是夕阳中的新娘； 波光里的艳影， 在我的心头荡漾。 软泥上的青荇， 油油的在水底招摇； 在康河的柔波里， 我甘心做一条水草！ 那榆荫下的一潭， 不是清泉，是天上虹； 揉碎在浮藻间， 沉淀着彩虹似的梦。 寻梦？撑一支长篙， 向青草更青处漫溯； 满载一船星辉， 在星辉斑斓里放歌。 但我不能放歌， 悄悄是别离的笙箫； 夏虫也为我沉默， 沉默是今晚的康桥！悄悄的我走了， 正如我悄悄的来； 我挥一挥衣袖， 不带走一片云彩。

[poppyofthevalley]

Stuck

With so much bitterness in this heart, I must tell you:

I did not know I could feel so much like an object. I did not know I could ever be the receiver of the theoretical gaze. I did not know it could cling like melted plastic film.

Every table we sit at is tacky to the touch. The flies circle invisible muck. I asked to be haunted, to be sure, but I am certain I did not ask for it to be you. Each time I open my face to yours and then given reason to shutter again.

I should so like to be his, that one you hate, if only to gain your undying discomfort. I never thought myself particularly vengeful but I should so like to give you jealousy. You have stolen the ease from my soul. I deserve this much.

When did you claim even my victories? Why must they have been won in your name?

Could they not have been mine alone? Could they not have been mine?

I don’t even tell you them anymore, if only so I wouldn’t have to hear that tone of wonder—some fantasy of yours, isn’t it? Isn’t it that all I am?

I knew I would resent being made to work with you, but I did not anticipate this. This being asked to—being expected to assuage your guilt—do not look to me for it, how dare you look to me for it. You with all the time and money in the world, you. 

I am no better than him. I disdain you this too.

[poppyofthevalley]

Re: Re: Re:

And you tell me we both of us should not look. But there you were behind the desk, back pressed against the wall, projector light blinding you. Could you see? how the bright of my laugh was for you? Yes, I will not look. You cradle the cup as if winter were here. I cradle my chin in my coffee-stained hands, and breathe in.

[poppyofthevalley]

let me

I have enough pride for the both of us— I have more than my father could tame. But the dreams in my hand are but dust.

And the rains could be ceaseless and blighting And the cars drown me out when I say, I have enough pride for the both of us—

I should tell you of everyday longing How the stars are all saying your name, But the dreams in my hand are but dust.

Put aside all that telephone ringing! If the sight of them burns you with shame, I have enough pride for the both of us—

I will bring all the love that is clinging, I will sing all the light in your name. Let the dreams in my hand be but dust.

Lord forgive me my arrogant reachings, Lord accord to him none of the blame. I have enough pride for the both of us— Let the dreams in my hand be but dust.

[poppyofthevalley]

White and orange cat I thought you were asleep. I stopped to see thee lie. I thought your slumber sweet. Cheek to cheek with ants, A-swarm in dreadful red; Patchy soil your pillow And pavement for your bed. I could not stop there: I could not stop to grieve. I wished the world silent But busy fell the street. White and orange cat Your mourners are but these: The leaves, the light, the wind, And lowliest is me.

[poppyofthevalley]

tag-init (dry season)

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art the heavy afternoon’s slow peace; The tropic heat that cradles me and stays, The errant static radio melodies. Thou art the wind that comes to stir the leaves, And bring reprieve from steady sweat and heat; Thou art the stinging violet of the lamp Whose presence guards my insect-bitten feet. As quick and true and gold-white is your star, Thy touch reveals the same burned tender skin; I turn my face to you, though sun-spots mar My brownéd cheeks; may this light never dim. Wherefore the shade without the elder heat? The monsoon rains are never quite this sweet.

[poppyofthevalley]

late night side-walk

Distorted on blue scaffolding, Our shadows run us by; Dark cars with white lights hurtling, And train like so much ice: A calving glacier into sea Of concrete and asphalt; We walk like men, and never fear As wind makes its assault.

[poppyofthevalley]

Passingly I thought of you beside me, and in the window, white sun struck me blind. Let me sit on your left, I would shade thee, I could not let its rays to you outshine The dearest loveliness of your wan face; The hair that I would fingers mine entwine, I could not it permit leach into grey. If tired you, I’d offer my shoulder Let your head in my neck find its sweet space And if the night would slowly ring colder —And felt your shoulders fast shiv’ring ‘gainst mine— I’d wrap you in my arms (if I bolder), And count me lucky to count your smile lines— But back to the sun in my eyes. I confess: I carried me away. My own mind Bears me up on delusion; I have less Than soft wild hopes, and this Icarian flight That I might gain a glance from whence stars rest, Rich black in night, doe-hazel in the light; I would but this much. I know well my bounds, I would not dare to make that smile unbright, Or dull the laugh that mirrors silver sound, Nor suffer twinkle of your eye to leave; My happiness is fast around yours wound, I cannot you from my life quite unweave. So settle I for stolen glance in dark Gloamed evenings and my longing through a sieve: I would to God my longing not so stark, I would to God that never should we part.

[poppyofthevalley]

cable car ride

Our shadow touches ground below Forest green and boundless growth Crag and mire and cliff and mist Steam and roil of clouds' abyss Our shadow touches cloud below Up it comes to crash and blow Breaks on verdant mountain slopes Powdered on with sky blue glow Our shadow touches sky below Making careful, shy follow Tiny blotch of grey half-sight Shrouds and soon it's all in white Our shadow touches white below I wonder if it’s dragonsmoke Furling breath leans up to kiss Cable car with endless mist Our shadow must touch ground below Though on the clouds it makes no show Mist closes rank around us all White windows bleak as arctic snow.

[poppyofthevalley]

bilad

Ititig ang araw, ang hari ng langit, Kanyang mga halik, yaring ginto’t init; Sa iyong balat, linimbag ang hugis pílit Ng siyang mga daliri; pulang pag-giit.

[poppyofthevalley]

from the amount of sonnets I've posted here you'd never guess i hated it at first. my true love is common meter and i have a 60-stanza lancelot/guinevere poem in that meter i just havent posted it bc it still needs editing and i got tired of staring at it for so long

[poppyofthevalley]

Before that appellation of Orkney, Before all her children had e’en been a thought, She had been only Morgause, unruly— Played horse with her mother, with sisters caught Fish in ponds; her father set her small hands ‘Neath his own, to trace out all her duchy On map richly begon, and dreamt of lands Green and sprawling; neglected her duty As befit a small girl-child, but heeded Good words; ‘riched her mind’s bounty, and scoured All her world for everyday lesson; read O’er the seneschal’s shoulder.—Though sour The old man might seem, he helped her at numbers, And at but fifteen she could manage the towers.

— morgause, before

[poppyofthevalley]

It isn’t her name he mutters in sleep In dream or in ‘mare or unholy mix It isn’t a name she’s heard in his keep She wondered how found its way to his lips She asks as discreetly as could a queen: Her knights know it not, her ladies no help. And Merlin but yields the baleful routine: She wonders if Arthur’s under a spell. It’s Morgan that tells her, smile brightly-stelled As if she had ne’er news gladder to give: “There was but the time that my sister here dwelt,” Meaning-laden so she couldn’t misgive. She glances him now and shivers anew; Saw the dark look he e’er for Morgause threw.

— sleepless king

[poppyofthevalley]

the true pain of terza rima is not finding rhymes, it's editing 😭😭😭 this form ACTIVELY hates people who cannot write in one straight go omfg I'm not good at spotting pacing issues on my first go through and its rly messing me up with terza rima bc its so hard to insert stuff After you've already written the interlocking tercets

[poppyofthevalley]

trying to alleviate this a little by doing terza rima sonnets 😭 sorry i am Not strong enough to do it all in one go...

[poppyofthevalley]

guys if you're going to not have a strict syllabic meter then can you at least like. make sure your thing has a good rhythm. or like. idk. nice accent meter.

[poppyofthevalley]

the true pain of terza rima is not finding rhymes, it's editing 😭😭😭 this form ACTIVELY hates people who cannot write in one straight go omfg I'm not good at spotting pacing issues on my first go through and its rly messing me up with terza rima bc its so hard to insert stuff After you've already written the interlocking tercets