some poems I liked while scrolling today's writer's block responses
Love Beyond Passion
Love beyond passion is the hardest of all things
Not always sudden
It strikes like the lightening
Whose flash is forever
Whose thunder more deafening
Than the sound of a whisper in the ear of a lover
Passion, not the essence
Merely a consequence
Love beyond passion is the hardest of all things
By: Larry Williams (1994)
If I had words to express
What you mean to me
I would say them
Maybe they would cross
The distance between us
Open your eyes
Bring you back to me
You are in my very being
A part of who I am
A piece of my soul
To lose you is
Unthinkable
Unbearable
And very possible
This reality is staring me
In the face
Sapping my strength
A desolate wasteland
Of nothingness
Of darkness
With no you to light it
I call to you, and plead
For you to understand
To see what you're doing
Leaving me to wither
Leaving me to die
Leaving me to rot
Leaving me alone.
LJ mmeeshal
By poet Maya Angelou
They Went Home
They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But...They went home.
They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But...they went home.
My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three,
But...
REMEMBER ME
Remember Me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Sonnet 141, one of my all-time favorites, by the Bard:
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.