Good Night @stepanemones - Tumblr Blog

If You Forget Me

by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

1000drawings

by DreamyMoons

apoemaday

Stars, Songs, Faces

by Carl Sandburg

Gather the stars if you wish it so Gather the songs and keep them. Gather the faces of women. Gather for keeping years and years. And then… Loosen your hands, let go and say good-bye. Let the stars and songs go. Let the faces and years go. Loosen your hands and say good-bye.

1000drawings

by mochipanko

2013yearoflettering

Day 85 of 366

apoemaday

Why I Wake Early

by Mary Oliver

Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the miserable and crotchety–

best preacher that ever was, dear star, that just happens to be where you are in the universe to keep us from ever-darkness, to ease us with warm touching, to hold us in the great hands of light– good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness.

faithprayers

apoemaday

It Is Not Your Job

by Caitlyn Siehl

when your little girl asks you if she’s pretty your heart will drop like a wineglass on the hardwood floor part of you will want to say of course you are, don’t ever question it and the other part the part that is clawing at you will want to grab her by her shoulders look straight into the wells of her eyes until they echo back to you and say you do not have to be if you don’t want to it is not your job both will feel right one will feel better she will only understand the first when she wants to cut her hair off or wear her brother’s clothes you will feel the words in your mouth like marbles you do not have to be pretty if you don’t want to it is not your job

apoemaday

But Not Forgotten

by Dorothy Parker

I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the secret night, And feel my arms about you when The day comes fluttering back again. I think, no matter where you be, You’ll hold me in your memory And keep my image, there without me, By telling later loves about me.

apoemaday

The Bee Box

by Lowell Parker

In this small box, my love, you’ll not find a ring, but instead, a brave little bee. He’ll be dead by morn, having given his life defending his flowers against me. I felt his sting while picking the small purple pansies growing wild along the roadside, in hopes of an afternoon bouquet for you. And I grieved the sting, more for him than me, knowing full well the price he paid for my small pain. And I allowed him his victory, leaving his flowers as a memory, and brought you instead this brave little bee, who proves there is love even in the smallest of things.

apoemaday

Poem for Everyone

by John Wood

I will present you parts of my self slowly if you are patient and tender. I will open drawers that mostly stay closed and bring out places and people and things sounds and smells, loves and frustrations, hopes and sadnesses, bits and pieces of three decades of life that have been grabbed off in chunks and found lying in my hands. they have eaten their way into my memory, carved their way into my heart altogether –you or i will never see them– they are me. If you regard them lightly, deny that they are important or worse, judge them I will quietly, slowly, begin to wrap them up, in small pieces of velvet, like worn silver and gold jewelry, tuck them away in a small wooden chest of drawers and close.