| 
Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.
-mark twain | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment   |
| Love
I Corinthians 13:1-13
1. If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
2. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
3. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
4. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not resentful, it refuses bitterness.
5. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
6. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
7. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, always forgives.
8. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
9. For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
10. But when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
11. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
12. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
-h.w. longfellow | | comments: Leave a comment |
| You ask whether your verses are good...
You send them to magazines, you compare them to other poems and you are disturbed when
certain editors reject your efforts. I beg you to give all that up. You are looking outward, and that, above all, you should not do... There is only one single way.
Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out if it's spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write-- ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write?...
And if out of this turning inward, out of this absorption into your own world, verses come, then it will not occur to you to ask anyone whether they are good verses. Nor will you try to interest magazines in your poems: for you will see them in your fond, natural possession, a fragment and a voice of your life.
A work of art is good if it has sprung from necessity...
perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist. Then take that destiny upon yourself and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what recompense might come from outside.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Letters to a Young Poet | | comments: Leave a comment |
| We Are Hard on Each Other
i
We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.
The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.
ii
Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.
Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over & over
perhaps because you own
so few of them
iii
A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you
is that a fact or a weapon?
-Margaret Atwood | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | Lust | | Time: | 11:57 am |
|
| THAT DAY
if you've got the key
then I've got the door
let's do what we did
when we did it before
if you've got the time
i've got the way
let's do what we did
when we did it all day
you get the glass
i've got the wine
we'll do what we did
when we did it overtime
if you've got the dough
then i've got the heat
we can use my oven
that it's warm and sweet
I know I'm bold
coming on like this
but the good things in life
are too good to be missed
now time is money
and money is sweet
if you're busy baby
we can do it on our feet
we can do it on the floor
we can do it on the stair
we can do it on the couch
we can do it in the air
we can do it in the grass
and in case we get an itch
I can scratch it with my left hand
cause i'm really quite a witch
if we do it once a month
we can do it in time
if we do it once a week
we can do it in rhyme
if we do it every day
we can do it everyway
we can do it like we did it
when we did it
that day
-nikki giovanni | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| Most of us love
from our need to love,
not because we find someone
deserving.
--Nikki Giovanni | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Don’t attend poetry workshops,
but if you do, don’t go to learn
"how to write," but to learn
"what’s important to write about."
--Lawrence Ferlinghetti | | comments: Leave a comment |
| I saw a man pursuing the horizon
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round he sped.
I was disturbed by this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never- "
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
--Stephen Crane | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| I know that there has been a tremendous loss in the community here.
Though I never knew you personally, I can feel the immense weight of your loss through those whom I do know and through your incredibly important work.
Go in peace. Birjinder Anant. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| In the recent past, we've propped up and otherwise provided aid and comfort to genocidal abominations like Augusto Pinochet in Chile, General Suharto in Indonesia and George Papadopoulos in Greece, to name only a handful. It's only when these tin-pot monsters run afoul of corporate interests that our leaders summon up their righteous indignation.
Where do you think this passage is from?
Counterpunch? Alternet.org? The Progressive? Masturbateforpeace.com?
No. No. No. and No.
This is from FoxSports. Yes, that bastion of leftist free thought.
It's in regard to Cuba's (non)participation in the new World Baseball Classic.
The timing of this article is very interesting, considering how much Cuba's been on my mind of late.
I've always believed unjust laws should be broken on principle alone. Now, it's a question of if my checkbook can handle the civil disobedience.
Decisions, decisions.
America--
Land of the Free, home of the Brave?
well,
that's like calling FoxNews
"fair and balanced."
...well, maaaybe in this case.
http://msn.foxsports.com/mlb/story/5182704 | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | Brokeback Mountain | | Time: | 11:49 pm |
|
| what's worse?
never experiencing the greatest passion of your life
or invariably destroying yourself trying to recapture it?
i can't answer that question. | | comments: 9 comments or Leave a comment |
| You, darkness, of whom I am born-
I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.
The dark embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations - just as they are.
It lets me imagine
a great presence stirring beside me.
I believe in the night.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Book of Hours | | comments: Leave a comment |
| So the poet's habit of living should be set on a key so low that the common influences should delight him.
His cheerfulness should be the gift of the sunlight; the air should suffice for his inspiration,
and he should be tipsy with water.
-Emerson
 | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| I do not know what haunts me,
What saddened my mind all day;
An age-old tale confounds me,
A spell I cannot allay.
-Heinrich Heine
| | comments: Leave a comment |
| I have always wanted the hands of people to be seen in poetry.
I have always preferred a poetry where the fingerprints show.
A poetry of loam, where the water can sing.
A poetry of bread, where everyone may eat.
--neruda | | comments: Leave a comment |
| 
San Quentin State Prison, CA
at 12:41 AM
S.T. Williams
confirmed dead
at 12:35 AM
from lethal injection | | comments: Leave a comment |
| unfortunately, most of us will die
without ever truly seeing beyond our own pain and fear.
--tan ran
from The Runaway Eagle Claw of Tan Ran | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | Harlem | | Time: | 10:30 pm |
|
| Personal
In an envelope marked:
Personal
God addressed me a letter.
In an envelope marked:
Personal
I have given my answer.
--Langston Hughes | | comments: Leave a comment |
| I've found the secret to happiness, and it's
sleep. 'Bout to hook mahself up too. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| i came upon these while sorting out my harddrive.
i was a different person when i took these,
and i'll be different again when i return.
but you know what they say,
when Change abandons you, your Time is up.
there's so much poetry on our faces...
it's hard to believe these are a year old:
( more ) | | comments: Leave a comment |
| when i was a kid, i was such a damn insomniac
that my mom would set the clock forward a few hours
to try and trick me into going to bed. i had totally forgotten
about that until tonite.
but...
didn't work then,
still don't work now. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | New Poem | | Time: | 10:11 am |
|
| In the Space Between Us
I'm watching the man behind the counter—
no one has ordered anything in nearly an hour,
and he has finished polishing the countertop and dusting
the fruit for the third time. So for the first time
he looks around and listens,
astonished. All around him, voices
clash and mingle and deliberate
certain truths of our world:
we're born, we die,
and at points in the middle, we find ourselves
face to face with other persons,
with nothing but god
in the space between us.
listen here:
http://www.poetnprogress.org/ | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Cigarettes will kill you.
She said it so sweetly
I wanted another.
Everyone's got a lover
waiting to come back
mystically changed.
Who knows what everyone's doing tonight.
Well, I'm in bed
trying to write these poems.
I wanted to stop writing
and the poem said
it's a beautiful blue night
stop writing. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| |
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soepa's journal
