I Want to Die While You Love Me
I want to die while you love me
While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.
I want to die while you love me,
And bear to that still bed
Your kisses turbulent, unspent,
To warm me when I'm dead.
I want to die while you love me,
Oh, who could care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give?
I want to die while you love me,
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day
Grow dim or cease to be!
~ Georgia Douglas Johnson
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Please Bury Me in the Library
Please Bury Me in the Library
Please bury me in the library
In the clean, well-lighted stacks
Of Novels, History, Poetry
Right next to the Paperbacks.
Where the Kids' books dance
With True Romance
And the Dictionary dozes.
Please bury me in the library
With a dozen long-stemmed proses.
Way back by a stack of Magazines,
I won't be sad too often,
If they bury me in the library
With bookworms in my coffin.
~ J. Patrick Lewis
Please bury me in the library
In the clean, well-lighted stacks
Of Novels, History, Poetry
Right next to the Paperbacks.
Where the Kids' books dance
With True Romance
And the Dictionary dozes.
Please bury me in the library
With a dozen long-stemmed proses.
Way back by a stack of Magazines,
I won't be sad too often,
If they bury me in the library
With bookworms in my coffin.
~ J. Patrick Lewis
After Love
After Love
Afterward, the compromise
Bodies resume their boundaries.
These legs, for instance, mine.
Your arms take you back in.
Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.
The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar
and overheard, a plane
singsongs coming down.
Nothing is changed, except
there was a moment when
the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self
lay lightly down, and slept.
~ Maxine Kumin
Afterward, the compromise
Bodies resume their boundaries.
These legs, for instance, mine.
Your arms take you back in.
Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.
The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar
and overheard, a plane
singsongs coming down.
Nothing is changed, except
there was a moment when
the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self
lay lightly down, and slept.
~ Maxine Kumin
Friday, April 23, 2010
From Walden
" The stars are the apexes of what wonderful triangles! What distant and different beings in the various mansions of the universe are contemplating the same one at that same moment!"
(Norton Critical Edition, page 10)
(Norton Critical Edition, page 10)
A Second Blog
I've always loved the idea of commonplace books where one would gather poems and quotes that they found interesting or inspirational. To a degree, I've done that myself in a myriad of ways, in a myriad of places, but I thought I'd try a new one. So here it is, a companion journal to my other, in which I post thoughts and events- here, I post quotes and poems that strike me.
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