Speak in Poetry

[adorable]

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

~Robert Frost

[JakeTulane]

"Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain,
Unravelled from the tumbling main..."
~Thomas Lovell Beddoes

[JakeTulane]

By Candlelight

This is winter, this is night, small love ---
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you in my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.

This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.
At first the candle will not bloom at all ---
It snuffs its bud to almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is all yours, the little brassy Atlas ---
Poor heirloom, all you have
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife. Five balls! Five bright brass balls!
To juggle with, my love when the sky falls.

- Sylvia Plath

[JakeTulane]

I Carry your Heart With Me.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it( anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

- e.e. cummings

[JakeTulane]

Love, one of a kind, something for you and I to share between us
Made of heaven sent by Venus; Love, moving through me, seeking
a place with in my heart I'm sure of everyone is in and out of....

Love, older than sky, like every cloud that has a silver lining, Love is new and
ever shining, Love falls just like rain, Love is the only thing I know that lasts
through time and even after...that is LOVE.

Love, laughing and high, feeding the magic that I find within me, quicker than the
eye yet simply love warmer than rain, quiet as night but it's stormy in its passion
ancient never out of fashion.

Love, always commands, it never obeys the heart that's bleeding badly, aching
tears of breaking sadly, Love, one of a kind, love is the only thing I know
that lasts through time and even after than forever.

Love, reach out for love, not to be treated for a moment's pleasure, real love is the
lasting treasure , Love, for certain, sure, Love is the only thing I know that lasts
through time and even after than forever.

[JakeTulane]

The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.

The grain grew high in its harvest of you,
in good time the flour swelled;
as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,
my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.

Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,
bread I devour, born with the morning light,
my love, beacon-flag of the bakeries:

fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
you learned your holiness from flour,
from bread your language and aroma.

-Pablo Neruda

[Kätzchen]

Tell me, if I caught you one day
and kissed the sole of your foot,
wouldn't you limp a little then,
afraid to crush my kiss?

~ Nichita Stãnescu