After the murder, I called a meeting
to see if we were happy. I declared
I was not — I said I liked the man
we shot. You all disagreed with this.
--from "Gold" by Matthew Sweeney who was born today in 1952. https://t.co/ysBKusOpl1
I am the falcon of the spirit world,
Escaped out of highest heaven
Who out of desire of the hunt,
Am fallen into earthly form
"The Soul," by Rumi, #BOTD, and translated by Emerson. Happy International Translation Day.
I am the falcon of the spirit world,
Escaped out of highest heaven
Who out of desire of the hunt,
Am fallen into earthly form
"The Soul," by Rumi, #BOTD, and translated by Emerson. Happy International Translation Day.
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
--TS Eliot, #BOTD in 1888. From Ash Wednesday.
Congratulations Arthur Sze, our 25th Poet Laureate!
As he says about violinists in "Architect's Watercolor", his poems
launch fireworks
of sound that arc, explode, dissolve
into threads of melodic charm.
the aged person
wanting to become a tree
embraces a tree
--"The aged person" by MItsuhashi Takajo, for #WomeninTranslationMonth. Translated by Makota Ueda. https://t.co/6kVvdFzvOA
God and the gods have moved
outside the jeweled air
and sun motes …
to where a star is:
an amethyst minus a poet.
--From "Sheets" by Fanny Howe, who died on July 9. We will miss her!
Oh! it is sad! And you, have you not found
One heart-throb for the pity, though your eye
Lights at the gold and purple butterfly
Brightening the littered leaves upon the ground?
-- Paul Verlaine, whose marriage ended with his affair with Arthur Rimbaud. #Pride25#PrideMonth
Oh! it is sad! And you, have you not found
One heart-throb for the pity, though your eye
Lights at the gold and purple butterfly
Brightening the littered leaves upon the ground?
-- Paul Verlaine, whose marriage ended with his affair with Arthur Rimbaud. #Pride25#PrideMonth
Being out of heart with government
I took a broken root to fling
Where the proud, wayward squirrel went
--From "An Appointment" by WB Yeats, #BOTD. It was the first poem he wrote about public events -- about his disgust over the appointment of curator of Dublin's National Museum
I chant the chant of dilation or pride . . . .
Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love!
O unspeakable passionate love.
--Walt Whitman for #PrideMonth#Pride25. https://t.co/AZMESnvHiz
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour.
Which way does your beard point tonight?
-- Allen Ginsberg, #BOTD in 1926. From "A Supermarket in California." #PrideMonth#Pride25
For poetry of place: its weathered face
Formed a convenient sheet whereon
The visions of his mind were drawn.
--Thomas Hardy, BOTD in 1840. From "After a Romantic Day." https://t.co/AZMESnvHiz
at the bent spray's edge--
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
-- From "Home-Thoughts from Abroad," by Robert Browning, #BOTD in 1812.
Without reflection, without mercy, without shame,
they built strong walls and high, and compassed me about.
--"Walls" by C.P. Cavafy, who was born AND died #OTD. https://t.co/AZMESnvHiz
What is or is true as
Happiness
Windows opening on the sea,
The green painted railings of the balcony
Against the rock, the bushes and the sea running
--George Oppen, #BOTD, in "A Theological Definition." https://t.co/AZMESnvHiz
When we find the sounds
for words we need, their death
rattle begins to echo in our throats.
-- from "Psalm for Arrival" by Khaled Mattawa for #ArabAmericanHeritageMonth. https://t.co/AZMESnvHiz