Poetry spam
... because I was going to do the poems from those icons I made and never did. So here we go.
Seven Wishes (from Love Songs)
A straight account is difficult
so let me define seven wishes:
that you should fit inside me neat as the stuffing in an olive
that you should stand inside the safe circle of my eye
that you should sing, clear, on the high rock of my skull
that you should swing wide on the rope of my hair
that you should cross rivers of blood, mountains of bone
that I should touch your skin through the hole in your tee shirt
that we should exchange ordinary tales.
-Fiona Farrell
And My Heart Goes Swimming
and my heart goes swimming
wet and lipid it hangs between waves of salt.
a warm heart in cold green waters
deep
to the bottom.
wave after wave washing the little skin
saline.
and my heart goes swimming
a fisherman scoops the sea,
finds a heart in his hand.
no cold fish warm red blood black hair
blonde.
a night of swimming,
open eyes laugh
see us
love
the man and my heart celebrate
and in the morning warm water from a tap.
but now the fisherman has fish to catch
see, he has a net, and sinkers.
back
to the sea
my heart goes swimming
wave after wave
no cold fish could swim like my heart goes swimming.
--Roma Potiki
Love Poem
A woman comes into a room where a vase stands on a table.
The table is close against a wall, beside an open window,
so the vase might seem outside the window
against the trees, above a stretch of lawn,
for the merest second for the woman entering.
She walks to the vase to touch it, turns it a little,
rests her curved fingers on its curved rim,
inattentive to what she holds, to the fact of her hands,
although the vase is foreign and perfect,
..................her hands what she is proud of.
She walks from the room, leaves table as table, window
as pure window- the world as it is.
Yet the lawn outside has altered, and the line of trees,
and the shadow of the line of trees on the shaven pallor of the lawn.
Although nothing has moved, all altered.
At every window, fictions.
...........................Love at each door.
--Vincent O'Sullivan.
When She Speaks
Lovelier are her words
Than the exquisite notes
That speak the souls of flutes.
The songs of birds
At dusk, when the first-born star
Swims in the willow tree,
Are not more dear to me
Than her words are.
When she speaks, all sound begins
To tremble and melt
In music rarer than the lilt
Of violins.
Her voice is more delicate
Than the croon of wind in the coppice;
All the world's songs are poppies
Under her feet.
--ARD Fairburn
Shift
Just home from work
in a rich hotel
where the windows don't open
she takes off her clothes
she leaves them where
they fall. The day is over
over & over & over
it explodes gently open.
Outside
the harbour
gleams. Foams like a
dream of apples. Like the windows
of a drowned hotel.
--Bob Orr
I'm Nobody! Who Are You?
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise-you know!
How dreary-to be-Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell one's name-the livelong June-
To an admiring Bog!
--Emily Dickinson
I think that's all of them. :) Although one of them seems to be missing, and I have no idea where I might find it- Full by Bill Manhire. If anyone has a copy I'd be grateful. :)
Seven Wishes (from Love Songs)
A straight account is difficult
so let me define seven wishes:
that you should fit inside me neat as the stuffing in an olive
that you should stand inside the safe circle of my eye
that you should sing, clear, on the high rock of my skull
that you should swing wide on the rope of my hair
that you should cross rivers of blood, mountains of bone
that I should touch your skin through the hole in your tee shirt
that we should exchange ordinary tales.
-Fiona Farrell
And My Heart Goes Swimming
and my heart goes swimming
wet and lipid it hangs between waves of salt.
a warm heart in cold green waters
deep
to the bottom.
wave after wave washing the little skin
saline.
and my heart goes swimming
a fisherman scoops the sea,
finds a heart in his hand.
no cold fish warm red blood black hair
blonde.
a night of swimming,
open eyes laugh
see us
love
the man and my heart celebrate
and in the morning warm water from a tap.
but now the fisherman has fish to catch
see, he has a net, and sinkers.
back
to the sea
my heart goes swimming
wave after wave
no cold fish could swim like my heart goes swimming.
--Roma Potiki
Love Poem
A woman comes into a room where a vase stands on a table.
The table is close against a wall, beside an open window,
so the vase might seem outside the window
against the trees, above a stretch of lawn,
for the merest second for the woman entering.
She walks to the vase to touch it, turns it a little,
rests her curved fingers on its curved rim,
inattentive to what she holds, to the fact of her hands,
although the vase is foreign and perfect,
..................her hands what she is proud of.
She walks from the room, leaves table as table, window
as pure window- the world as it is.
Yet the lawn outside has altered, and the line of trees,
and the shadow of the line of trees on the shaven pallor of the lawn.
Although nothing has moved, all altered.
At every window, fictions.
...........................Love at each door.
--Vincent O'Sullivan.
When She Speaks
Lovelier are her words
Than the exquisite notes
That speak the souls of flutes.
The songs of birds
At dusk, when the first-born star
Swims in the willow tree,
Are not more dear to me
Than her words are.
When she speaks, all sound begins
To tremble and melt
In music rarer than the lilt
Of violins.
Her voice is more delicate
Than the croon of wind in the coppice;
All the world's songs are poppies
Under her feet.
--ARD Fairburn
Shift
Just home from work
in a rich hotel
where the windows don't open
she takes off her clothes
she leaves them where
they fall. The day is over
over & over & over
it explodes gently open.
Outside
the harbour
gleams. Foams like a
dream of apples. Like the windows
of a drowned hotel.
--Bob Orr
I'm Nobody! Who Are You?
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise-you know!
How dreary-to be-Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell one's name-the livelong June-
To an admiring Bog!
--Emily Dickinson
I think that's all of them. :) Although one of them seems to be missing, and I have no idea where I might find it- Full by Bill Manhire. If anyone has a copy I'd be grateful. :)