Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
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Featured Shared Story
I love this poem. My wife of 28 years just passed June 4, 2017, and I used to write her poetry all the time. I miss the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, and the feeling of her arms...
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When I Die I Want Your Hands On My Eyes
When I die I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me one more time
to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny. -
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:Featured Shared StoryHello all readers and writers,
I am sure we all have experienced that intense love where we feel the existence of that one person when they are with us or away. This poem gives a lot of... -
One Hundred Love Sonnets
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.Featured Shared StoryThis poem touched my heart in ways that I didn't even know was possible. I never thought I would be able to understand my own heart as well as I do now. This poem completely captures the way...
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Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.Featured Shared StoryI really feel the same when she is away.
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Love
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips -
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.Featured Shared StorySincerely, the poem sounds more of irony, imagery, synecdoche, because it was a direct poem that straightly explained the meaning, whereas, there won't be room for literary appreciation....
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A Dog Has Died
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.
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Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon
Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses? -
Lone Gentleman
The gay young men and the love-sick girls,
and the abandoned widows suffering in sleepless delirium,
and the young pregnant wives of thirty hours,
and the raucous cats that cruise my garden in the shadows,
