Our House is a Very, Very, Very Fine House

Work happening on
Our house. So far so good. So
Much work happening.

Poetry: Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire
Others say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if I had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
is also great
and would suffice.

-Unknown

Poetry: I Loved My Friend

I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There's nothing more to say.
This poem ends
soft as it begins.
I loved my friend.

-Langston Hughes.

Poetry: Genius Child

This is a song for the genius child.
Sing it softly for the song is wild.
Sing it softly as ever you can,
lest the song get out of hand
Nobody loves a genius child.
Can you love an eagle
tame or wild?
Wild or tame,
can you love a monster
of frightening name?
Nobody loves a genius child.
Kill him and let his soul run wild.

-Langston Hughes

Poetry

If you do not learn to hate
you will never be lonely
enough
to love easily
nor will you always be brave
although it does not grow any easier.
Do not pretend to convenient beliefs.
You will never be able to defend
your city
while shouting.
Remember our sun
is not the most noteworthy star
only the nearest.
Respect whatever pain you bring back
from your dreaming
but do not look for new gods
in the sea
nor in any part of a rainbow.
Each time you love
love as deeply
as if it were
forever
only nothing is
eternal.
Speak proudly to your children
wherever you may find them.
Tell them
they are the offspring of slaves
and your mother was
a princess in darkness.

- Audre Lorde

Poetry

This is my rock
and here I run
to steal to secret of the sun.

This is my rock
and here come I
before the night has swept the sky.

This is my rock,
this is my place
I meet the evening face to face.

-David McCord.

Poetry: Love

I have lived and I have loved.
I have waked and I have slept.
I have sung and I have danced.
I have smiled and I have wept.
I have won and wasted treasures.
I have had my fill of pleasures.
And all of these were weariness
and some of these were dreariness
and all of these but two things
were emptyness and pain.
And love it was the best of them
and sleep worth all the rest of them,
worth everything but love
to my spirit and my brain.
Be still my friend 0-slumber
til my days complete their number,
for love shall never never return to me again.

- Unknown

Poetry

What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.
-Unknown

Sometimes when I'm lonely
Don't know why
Keep thinking I won't be lonely
By and by.
-Unknown

I asked you baby
If you understood
You told me that you didn't
But you thought you would.
-Unknown

To count myself is quickly done.
There's never more of me than one.
-Unknown

Poetry: Friendship

It is my joy in life to find
at every turning of the road
the strong arm of a comrade kind
to help me onward with my load.
And since I have no gold to give
and love alone must make amends,
my only prayer is while I live,
God, make me worthy of my friends.

- Unknown

Poetry: Love

Soul Mates


How many times have I loved you
and have I loved you well?
We keep going through this together.
It's really hard to tell
to tell you how I feel today,
and how I felt last week,
how it was when you touched my hand,
or when you kissed my cheek.
If I could glimpse the memory
of where we've been before,
why and who and what and when,
it might mean even more.

We've walked upon this beach,
and danced upon the land.
Our identities were otherwise,
you the tide and I the sand.
You the tree and I your shadow,
a pair of butterflies,
yes, this is who we've been before,
all this in your blue eyes.

Our souls are older now
and closer to the light.
I'm glad that we're together still
as we move toward the night.
Over the moon or back on earth,
who knows where we might land?
Either ways the same to me,
if we go hand in hand.
Who knows how we'll be next time,
we could be leaves or faeries.
Though unique and changed again,
I'll know you by Rosemary.

Poetry: Love

Love is a wild wonder
and stars that sing,
rockers that burst asunder
and mountains that take wing.
John Henry with his hammer
makes a little spark.
That little spark is love
dying in the dark.

- Unknown.

Poetry

Dream Variations


To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun
To whirl and to dance
Til the white day is done
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently
Dark like me ... that is my dream.



To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun
Dance whirl whirl
Til the quick day is done
Rest at pale evening
A tall slim tree
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.

Poetry: Fun

I meant to do my work today
but a brown bird sand in the apple tree
and a butterfly flitted across the field
and all the leaves were calling me
and the wind went sighing over the land
tossing the grasses to and fro
and a rainbow held out its shining hand
so what could I do but laugh and go?

- Richard LaGallienne

Poetry: Richard Cory

Whenever Richard Cory went downtown
we people on the pavement looked at him.
He was a gentleman from sole to crown
clean favored and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed
and he was always human when he talked.
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich - yes! - richer than a king.
and admirably schooled in every grace.
In fine, we thought that he was everything,
to make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked and waited for the light,
and went without the meat and cursed the bread.
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
went home and put a bullet through his head.

-Edwin Arlington Robinson

Poetry: anyone lived in a pretty how town

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew)
autumn winter spring summer
that no one loved him more by more

when by how and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyones any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers and slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how the children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and no one stopped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
no one and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes

women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

-ee cummings

Poetry: Magnetic

Magnetic poetry: the college years. A compilation.

Imagine dinosaurs
Whispering
Funny Dreams

I live in a pink nest

White garden
Winter moment
Milk and language
Like frantic drunk beauty
Dress my lazy breast
With pictures of you
And worship me

I flew by the garden and saw summer at my feet

I see wet me
jumping round
that funny
dream girl

Poetry: Friendship

I never came to you my friend
and went away without
some new enrichment of the heart,
more faith and less of doubt,
and more courage in the days ahead,
and often in great need,
come to you, I went away
comforted indeed.

Poetry: Mother's Hands

She had dishpan hands
mop bucket hands
sink scrubbing hands
A working mother's hands
They weren't pretty,
but they picked me up
smoothed my brow
held me tight
No, they weren't pretty
My mother's hands
Her dish pan hands
Her strong sure hands
Her loving hands
Her healing hands

-KL

Poetry: Dreamtime Dance

I woke up when the moon was full
High above my head
My eyes were closed
My spirit wandered
My body was in my bed
The first step
Keep going
Take a breath
Suns first rays, early showing
Almost there
Keep going
Finally home
Within my soul, love growing
Within my dream, the sun is high
though the time is near
Evenings end
Time to wake
Will the day begin in love or fear?

- KL

Pulse Poetry

A young horse, crashing from the gate
Around the bend, she needs to hold a footing
Not so sure
And in the home stretch
focus is a little difficult
when speed is consumed

An old jockey she knows
to build a fire that grows
and feed it patiently

But a young horse
can't slow down as easily as she would
to make the first bend with sure feet
and take the race, to be fed with that spirit and pride.

-Drew Scott 10/21/04 Pulse Diagnosis Classroom Poetry