Tag Archives: Poetry

New Year’s Eve

31 Dec

The Death Of The Old Year
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year you shall not die.

He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true truelove
And the New-year will take ’em away.
Old year you must not go;
So long you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.

He froth’d his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho’ his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho’ his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I’ve half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o’er.
To see him die across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he’ll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
‘Tis nearly twelve o’clock.
Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, we’ll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.

Mixed Signals

13 Dec

**Not sure where this came from – kind of how I’ve been feeling this week.  Been trying to organize my future and every time it seems like I’m on the right track, something else goes wrong. It’s like the world is sending me mixed signals on where I’m supposed to go from here.  A bunch of my friends are experiencing the same feeling. Still, it’s the little moments of hope that keep us moving on, trying again and again no matter how often life shuts us down.**DB

Highs and the lows
Ups and the downs.
Feels like fate’s spinning us round and around.

Back and then forth
Good mixed with bad.
Nothings the same, till it feels like we’re mad.

Kissing and fightin’
Kissing and fightin’
Hoping and Dying and Loving’ and Cryin’.

Forcing each win.
Demanding our share.
World dragging us down, we get up on a dare.

Not Looking Back
Not Giving Ground
Living the dream, eking every last pound.

Kissing and fightin’
Kissing and fightin’
Hoping and Dying and Lovin’ and Cryin’.

“Every Woman . . . “

9 Feb

“Every Woman”
by Pamela Redmond Satran

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Enough money within her control to move out
And rent a place of her own
even if she never wants to or needs to
Something perfect to wear if the employer
or date of her dreams wants to See Her in an hour

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
A youth she’s content to leave behind
A past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to
retelling it in her Old Age

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
A set of screwdrivers,
a cordless drill, and a black lace bra
One friend who always makes her laugh
And one Who lets her cry

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
A good piece of furniture not previously owned
by anyone else in her Family
Eight matching plates,
wine glasses with stems,
And a recipe for a meal that will make
her guests feel Honored
A feeling of control over her destiny

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
How to fall in love without losing herself
HOW TO QUIT A JOB,
BREAK UP WITH A LOVER,
AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT
RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP
When to try harder
And WHEN TO WALK AWAY

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
That she can’t change the length of her calves,
The width of her hips,
or the nature of her parents
That her childhood may not have been perfect
But it’s over

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
What she would and wouldn’t do for love or more
How to live alone
Even if she doesn’t like it

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
Whom she can trust,
Whom she can’t,
And why she shouldn’t take it personally

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
Where to go
Be it to her best friend’s kitchen table
Or a charming inn in the woods
When her soul needs soothing

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
What she can and can’t accomplish in a day
A month
And a year.

“Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou

22 Dec

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Blossoms of Luoyang

25 Apr

DSC08851

The Blossoms of Luoyang

My lover is like the tree peony of Luoyang,

I, unworthy, like the common willows of Wu Chang.

Both places love the spring wind.

When shall we hold each others hands again?

Incessant the buzzing of insects beyond the orchard curtain

The moom flings slanting shadows from the pepper tree across the courtyard.

Pity the girl of the flowery house, who is not equal to the blossoms of Luoyang.

— Ting Liunang (Tang Dynasty)

” O’ Winter! Ruler of th’ Inverted Year”

6 Feb

“A Winter Scene” by Renaboo

William Cowper 

from his work: “The Task

   Oh Winter! ruler of th’ inverted year,
Thy scatter’d hair with sleet like ashes fill’d,
Thy breath congeal’d upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fring’d with a beard made white with other snows
Than those of age; thy forehead wrapt in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urg’d by storms along its slipp’ry way;
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem’st,
And dreaded as thou art!  Thou hold’st the sun
A pris’ner in the yet undawning East,
Short’ning his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy West; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gathering at short notice, in one group,
The family dispers’d, and fixing thought,
Not less dispers’d by day-light and its cares.
I crown thee King of intimate delights,
Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb’d retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.

“Clearing Rain” – Poetry I Love

17 Dec
Autumn In The Big City by Spirosart

“Autumn in the Big City” by Spirosart

“Clearing Rain” by Du Fu (758)

The sky’s water has fallen, and autumn clouds are thin,
The western wind has blown ten thousand li.
This morning’s scene is good and fine,
Long rain has not harmed the land.
The row of willows begins to show green,
The pear tree on the hill has little red flowers.
A hujia pipe begins to play upstairs,
One goose flies high into the sky.

雨晴(一作秋霁)

天水秋云薄
从西万里风
今朝好晴景
久雨不妨农
塞柳行疏翠
山梨结小红
胡笳楼上发
一雁入高空

yǔ qíng(yī zuò qiū jì)
tiān shuǐ qiū yún báo
cóng xī wàn lǐ fēng
jīn zhāo hǎo qíng jǐng
jiǔ yǔ bù fáng nóng
sāi liǔ háng shū cuì
shān lí jiē xiǎo hóng
hú jiā lóu shàng fā
yī yàn rù gāo kōng

Waiting in Silence

27 Jun

Random Literary Criticism Question. . . do you know what this poem is describing?

WAITING IN SILENCE

Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.

Always ever stomping, chest drum beating

Thudding up and down, up and down.

Heart forcing its way up and out.

 

Racing here. There. Back. There. Again.

Never closing, always opening. Wider, Wider.

Espying, Missing. Chasing, Searching, Seeking. There!

Eyes ever seeing what remains unseen.

 

HELP. Help. help. Shhh.

Choking. Stopping.  Breath intangible, concrete.

Words Spilling Out in Air. Hanging. Fading. Gone.

Voice Screaming whispered cries falling from speechless lips.

  Continue reading

Never Give In. Never Give Up. Never Stop Fighting.

30 May

I’m not a son, but I needed this message today 🙂

MOTHER TO SON

by LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

God Bless, Ms Maya Angelou

28 May

RIP Maya Angelou.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me. 

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