(no subject)
Can you imagine a sweeter compliment than someone saying "I dreamed you were a poem. A poem I wanted to show someone"*
I realize that poetry may not help you the way it helps me, but it's all I have to offer. I don't know how to explain this to a non-believer. The poetry doesn't have to relate to your life, to what is going in, it doesn't necessarily have to mean something. But the word's will touch you anyway, caress you in a way you don't understand, and for a moment perhaps, you can find relief.
Dancing Towards Bethleham by Billy Collins
If there is only enough time in the final minutes
of the twentieth century for one last dance
I would like to be dancing it slowly with you,
say, in the ballroom of a seaside hotel.
My palm would press into the small of your back
as the past hundred years collapsed into a pile
of mirrors or buttons or frivolous shoes,
just as the floor of the nineteenth century gave way
and disappeared into a red cloud of brick dust.
There will be no time to order another drink
or worry about what was never said
not with the orchestra sliding into the sea
and all our attention devoted to humming
whatever it was that they were playing.
*please tell me you know who said that
I realize that poetry may not help you the way it helps me, but it's all I have to offer. I don't know how to explain this to a non-believer. The poetry doesn't have to relate to your life, to what is going in, it doesn't necessarily have to mean something. But the word's will touch you anyway, caress you in a way you don't understand, and for a moment perhaps, you can find relief.
Dancing Towards Bethleham by Billy Collins
If there is only enough time in the final minutes
of the twentieth century for one last dance
I would like to be dancing it slowly with you,
say, in the ballroom of a seaside hotel.
My palm would press into the small of your back
as the past hundred years collapsed into a pile
of mirrors or buttons or frivolous shoes,
just as the floor of the nineteenth century gave way
and disappeared into a red cloud of brick dust.
There will be no time to order another drink
or worry about what was never said
not with the orchestra sliding into the sea
and all our attention devoted to humming
whatever it was that they were playing.
*please tell me you know who said that