posted December 11, 2015 07:39 PM            

As I Began to Love Myself

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering
are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth.
Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody
As I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time
was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this
person was me. Today I call it “RESPECT”.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life,
and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow.
Today I call it “MATURITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance,
I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens
at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm.
Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.

As I began to love myself I quit steeling my own time,
and I stopped designing huge projects for the future.
Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do
and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in
my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for
my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew
me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude
a healthy egoism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since
I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is “MODESTY”.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry
about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING
is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me
and it can make me sick. But As I connected it to my heart, my
mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this
connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems
with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing
new worlds are born.Today I know THAT IS “LIFE”!

posted December 17, 2015 01:29 AM            

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love - put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

--Sara Teasdale http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-am-not-yours-by-sara-teasdale#ixzz3MywyXNHx

posted January 22, 2016 09:34 AM            

Someone is always falling in love with you:
men and women, infants and children,
octogenarians and adolescents.

A tenant of heaven-haven on the pearly doorstep
hopes you will wave your hand in passing.
Where you stood just now a white bird
has flown into a ponderosa pine
and a black bee hovers in a bush of yellow flowers.

People would like to discuss you, but hold back.
Mystery is a fragile substance, too easy to tear.
Several persons, however, have noticed that you are followed
not by the usual shadow but by a shaft of sunlight.
Even on a day of fog or light rain.
Even after sunset.

When you are not present, you still walk quietly
through our minds, and we tell ourselves little stories
or small poems about you, like this one.
When a bird sings, we listen carefully
hoping your name will be mentioned.

~Virginia Adair
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/virginia-hamilton-adair

posted January 22, 2016 10:38 AM            

Winds of God,
Sweep me clean.

Rains of God,
Fill my dry channels.

Suns of God,
End my darkness.

Flowers of God,
Delight my dust.

posted January 29, 2016 11:47 AM            

The sense of the world is short, -
Long and various the report, -
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it;
And, how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.

posted March 03, 2016 09:47 AM            

Here we are, naked lovers,

beautiful to each other—and that's enough.

The leaves of our eyelids our only covers,

we're lying amidst deep night.

But they know about us, they know,

the four corners, and the chairs nearby us.

Discerning shadows also know,

and even the table keeps quiet.

Our teacups know full well

why the tea is getting cold.

And old Swift can surely tell

that his book's been put on hold.

Even the birds are in the know:

I saw them writing in the sky
brazenly and openly

the very name I call you by.

The trees? Could you explain to me

their unrelenting whispering?

The wind may know, you say to me,

but how is just a mystery.

A moth surprised us through the blinds,

its wings in fuzzy flutter.

Its silent path—see how it winds

in a stubborn holding pattern.

Maybe it sees where our eyes fail

with an insect's inborn sharpness.

I never sensed, nor could you tell

that our hearts were aglow in the darkness.

*

True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

posted March 05, 2016 11:32 AM            

quote:

---

Originally posted by Ayelet:
Such intelligent poems... thanks Pearlty

---

posted March 05, 2016 06:01 PM            

Edit...

I'll look for more of her.

posted March 06, 2016 03:49 PM            

quote:

---

Originally posted by Pearlty:

Openness

Here we are, naked lovers,

beautiful to each other—and that's enough.

The leaves of our eyelids our only covers,

we're lying amidst deep night.

But they know about us, they know,

the four corners, and the chairs nearby us.

Discerning shadows also know,

and even the table keeps quiet.

Our teacups know full well

why the tea is getting cold.

And old Swift can surely tell

that his book's been put on hold.

Even the birds are in the know:

I saw them writing in the sky
brazenly and openly

the very name I call you by.

The trees? Could you explain to me

their unrelenting whispering?

The wind may know, you say to me,

but how is just a mystery.

A moth surprised us through the blinds,

its wings in fuzzy flutter.

Its silent path—see how it winds

in a stubborn holding pattern.

Maybe it sees where our eyes fail

with an insect's inborn sharpness.

I never sensed, nor could you tell

that our hearts were aglow in the darkness.

*

True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

~Wislawa Szymborska

---

posted April 17, 2016 11:07 PM            

From that high apple-tree, my love,
That somehow bent in Eden
Its branches down above the sleeping pair

(Mouth near to mouth, plaited together,
Bread newly baked in god's great oven)...
From that early happy grove

I think your fingers bring me
Leaves, your mouth air and water.
Through your kisses, I, time's prisoner,

Undo the stubborn bolts and enter
Where none have gone before. Your body
Is my wild apple-tree, my poor man's treasure.

posted April 19, 2016 02:40 PM            

quote:

---

Originally posted by mirage29:
The Apple Tree

From that high apple-tree, my love,
That somehow bent in Eden
Its branches down above the sleeping pair

(Mouth near to mouth, plaited together,
Bread newly baked in god's great oven)...
From that early happy grove

I think your fingers bring me
Leaves, your mouth air and water.
Through your kisses, I, time's prisoner,

Undo the stubborn bolts and enter
Where none have gone before. Your body
Is my wild apple-tree, my poor man's treasure.

~James K Baxter (1926-70 NZ)

---

posted April 20, 2016 01:40 PM            

quote:

---

Originally posted by mirage29:
Love all the nuances of that poem... so liquid! That's Poetry in Action.

---

^ Yes, and meditative, warm, and lovely.

posted May 17, 2016 02:02 PM            

Touched by all that love is
I draw closer toward you
Saddened by all that love is
I run from you

Surprised by all that love is
I remain alert in stillness
Hurt by all that love is
I yearn for tenderness

Defeated by all that love is
at the truthful mouth of the night
Forsaken by all that love is
I will grow toward you.

~Frantisek Halas

posted May 17, 2016 02:12 PM            

kisses
we tried to save
pressed in books
like flowers from
a sun warmed day
only
years later to
open yellowing pages
to find those same
kisses - wilted and dry.
~ D.A. Levy.
http://allpoetry.com/D-A-Levy

I came across him, while doing some local newpaper research. I was looking up information on my great grandma, from the late 1930's she made the front page of Cleveland's newpaper.. (she was a pistol) my mother offen said "if we inherited just a little of her general nature of feistiness we were lucky" anyway archival articles on Levy appeared
while searching around and intrigued me, and I lost myself within the confines of interesting reading that afternoon and his poems as well.

posted May 18, 2016 06:22 PM            

My love, should I die and you don't,
let us give grief no more ground:
my love, should you die and I don't,
there is no piece of land like this on which we've lived.

Dust in the wheat, sand in the desert sands,
time, errant water, the wandering wind
carried us away like a navigator seed.
In such times, we may well not have met.

The meadow in which we did meet,
oh tiny infinity, we give back.
But this love, Love, has had no end,

and so, as it had no birth,
it has no death. It is like a long river
that changes only its shores and its banks.

---Pablo Neruda, Love Sonnets
Translation: Terence Clarke

The last of Peter Lieberson's five "Neruda Songs", composed for his wife, mezzo-soprano Lorraine Hunt Lieberson.
Ms. Lieberson made this recording with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of James Levine, less than eight months before she succumbed to breast cancer, making the text of this particular song that much more poignant.
Quote yt-notes

(music) Amor, Amor Mio (Peter Lieberson, with Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, Neruda Songs; Boston Symphony, James Levine directing) [7:12] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikvWSU9kutM