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In Flanders Fields

John McCrae, 1872 - 1918

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.

#poem #poetry #ww1 #memorial day

ishanijasmin

Every day, a hot hard pain curls into me at the break of dawn. I never sleep in anymore, just walk at the very edge of the curb. I am a thin line, teeth set for the summer. Instead, I take a hold of myself at the scruff of the neck. I shimmy down the mortal coil and on, on, on to better days. Forget to water my plants for just long enough that the lower leaves brown and fall into the pot. New compost. Even now, I self sustain. Bite into a soft apple, wrinkle my nose in disgust and throw it out the window. The road to hell is paved with soft apples. Laugh at myself through bitten lips, a quickie on your lunch break in the nearest park to get me through the day. Rolling down hills until the sky spins, my mouth full of saltwater, soft against the damp earth. This is what I am worth.

the descent | ishani jasmin (via ishanijasmin)

#poem #poetry

Question And Answer By Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson THE CHILD Father! Within the forest's bound No bird I found, No sound of song the woods around. THE FATHER The bird that glad his song us gave, Flies o'er the wave; Perhaps he there will find his grave. THE CHILD But why does he not wait till later? THE FATHER He goes where light and warmth are greater THE CHILD Father! It selfish seems to me, Far off to flee, When all we others here must be. THE FATHER With new-born spring comes new-born song; By instinct strong The better new he'll bring erelong. THE CHILD But if in death the cold waves swallow - ? THE FATHER Others will come; his kin will follow. (TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN IN THE ORIGINAL METERS BY ARTHUR HUBBELL PALMER)

#poem #poetry

I have hoped as many hopes and dreamed so many dreams, seen them swept aside by weather, and blown away by men, washed away in my own mistakes, that — I use to wonder if it wouldn't be better just to haul off and quit hoping

Woody Guthrie

#woody guthrie #dreams

You Take My Hand

by Margaret Atwood You take my hand and I'm suddenly in a bad movie, it goes on and on and why am I fascinated We waltz in slow motion through an air stale with aphrodisms we meet behind the endless ptted palms you climb through the wrong windows Other people are leaving but I always stay till the end I paid my money, I want to see what happens. In chance bathtubs I have to peel you off me in the form of smoke and melted celluloid Have to face it I'm finally an addict, the smell of popcorn and worn plush lingers for weeks

#poem #poetry

Going down. Down, down, down, down.

The Prohibition

by John Donne Take heed of loving me; At least remember I forbade it thee; Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears, By being to thee then what to me thou wast; But so great joy our life at once outwears; Then, lest thy love by my death frustrate be, If thou love me, take heed of loving me. Take heed of hating me, Or too much triumph in the victory; Not that I shall be mine own officer, And hate with hate again retaliate; But thou wilt lose the style of conqueror If I, thy conquest, perish by thy hate; Then, lest my being nothing lessen thee, If thou hate me, take heed of hating me. Yet, love and hate me too; So, these extremes shall neither's office do; Love me, that I may die the gentler way; Hate me, because thy love is too great for me; Or let these two themselves, not me, decay; So shall I live thy stage, not triumph be; Lest thou thy love and hate and me undo, To let me live, O love and hate me too. (Rave On John Donne)

Climbing You

by Erica Jong I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere I look you're there-- a vast landmark, a volcano poking its head through the clouds, Gulliver sprawled across Lilliput. I climb into your eyes, looking. The pupils are black painted stage flats. They can be pulled down like window shades. I switch on a light in your iris. Your brain ticks like a bomb. In your offhand, mocking way you've invited me into your chest. Inside: the blur that poses as your heart. I'm supposed to go in with a torch or maybe hot water bottles & defrost it by hand as one defrosts an old refrigerator. It will shudder & sigh (the icebox to the insomniac). Oh there's nothing like love between us. You're the mountain, I am climbing you. If I fall, you won't be all to blame, but you'll wait years maybe for the next doomed expedition.

#poem #poetry

themotivationjournals

I promise I shall never give up, and that I’ll die yelling and laughing.

Jack Kerouac (via themotivationjournals)

On The Morals Of Poets By Richard Le Gallienne One says he is immoral, and points out Warm sin in ruddy specks upon his soul: Bigot, one folly of the man you flout Is more to God than thy lean life is whole.

#poem #poetry #poets

Say Something To Me By James Whitcomb Riley Say something to me! I've waited so long - Waited and wondered in vain; Only a sentence would fall like a song Over this listening pain - Over a silence that glowers and frowns, - Even my pencil to-night Slips in the dews of my sorrow and wounds Each tender word that I write. Say something to me - if only to tell Me you remember the past; Let the sweet words, like the notes of a bell, Ring out my vigil at last. O it were better, far better than this Doubt and distrust in the breast, - For in the wine of a fanciful kiss I could taste Heaven, and - rest. Say something to me! I kneel and I plead, In my wild need, for a word; If my poor heart from this silence were freed, I could soar up like a bird In the glad morning, and twitter and sing, Carol and warble and cry Blithe as the lark as he cruises awing Over the deeps of the sky.

#poem #poetry

capsandbottles97

These are all painting by Theo Reijnders. A friend of mine just turned me on to him. So talented!

IT TAKES AWHILE TO DISAPPEAR

by Ralph Angel The city purrs, it hums along, the morning hardly risen. A well-dressed drunk smears her finger across a doorman’s lips and whispers. Someone stumbles. Someone curses. Someone hoses down the pavement. We must have made a mess of things again, all fuzzy black and white and greenish at the corners. Some final thing that put us in our places. You’re still standing in your winter coat alongside everything you wanted and deserve. But you were thinner. The desk clerk looked right through you. The cabby didn’t listen. You were out of sorts back then, you say, but you’re still frowning! In vain a shrieking siren repeats itself and fades. The quiet idles there, a crosswalk signal chirping. You’re still standing in your winter coat, but I don’t know you. Someone scrambles down a fire escape, his shirt a flag that’s shredded. A boy salutes. And then his mother, too. She stoops to smooth his collar. She makes a sculpture of her packages. You’re a different person now, you say, but you will never happen.

#poem #poetry

Puns about communism are not funny! (Unless everyone gets them.) 😏

#bad puns #sarcasm

Night Poem

by Margaret Atwood There is nothing to be afraid of, it is only the wind changing to the east, it is only your father the thunder your mother the rain In this country of water with its beige moon damp as a mushroom, its drowned stumps and long birds that swim, where the moss grows on all sides of the trees and your shadow is not your shadow but your reflection, your true parents disappear when the curtain covers your door. We are the others, the ones from under the lake who stand silently beside your bed with our heads of darkness. We have come to cover you with red wool, with our tears and distant whispers. You rock in the rain's arms, the chilly ark of your sleep, while we wait, your night father and mother, with our cold hands and dead flashlight, knowing we are only the wavering shadows thrown by one candle, in this echo you will hear twenty years later.

#poem #poetry #night #rain

May Song

By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Between wheatfield and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where's my sweetheart Tell it me! Sweetheart caught I Not at home; She's then, thought I. Gone to roam. Fair and loving Blooms sweet May; Sweetheart's roving, Free and gay. By the rock near the wave, Where her first kiss she gave, On the greensward, to me, Something I see! Is it she?

A Southern Girl. By Madison Julius Cawein Serious but smiling, stately and serene, And dreamier than a flower; A girl in whom all sympathies convene As perfumes in a bower; Through whom one feels what soul and heart may mean, And their resistless power. Eyes, that commune with the frank skies of truth, Where thought like starlight curls; Lips of immortal rose, where love and youth Nestle like two sweet pearls; Hair, that suggests the Bible braids of RUTH, Deeper than any girl's. When first I saw you, 't was as if within My soul took shape some song - Played by a master of the violin - A music pure and strong, That rapt my soul above all earthly sin To heights that know no wrong.

#poem #poetry #southern girl

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