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Be you still, be you still, trembling heart;
Remember the wisdom out of the old days:
Him who trembles before the flame and the flood,
And the winds that blow through the starry ways,
Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood
Cover over and hide, for he has no part
With the lonely, majestical multitude.

“TO HIS HEART, BIIDING IT HAVE NO FEAR”

W.B Yeats

Filed under w.b yeats quote poetry

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And because Love battles

And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures
but also in the mouth of men and women,
I will finish off by taking the path away
to those who between my chest and your fragrance
want to interpose their obscure plant.

About me, nothing worse
they will tell you, my love,
than what I told you.

I lived in the prairies
before I got to know you
and I did not wait love but I was
laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.

What more can they tell you?
I am neither good nor bad but a man,
and they will then associate the danger
of my life, which you know
and which with your passion you shared.

And good, this danger
is danger of love, of complete love
for all life,
for all lives,
and if this love brings us
the death and the prisons,
I am sure that your big eyes,
as when I kiss them,
will then close with pride,
into double pride, love,
with your pride and my pride.

But to my ears they will come before
to wear down the tour
of the sweet and hard love which binds us,
and they will say: “The one
you love,
is not a woman for you,
Why do you love her? I think
you could find one more beautiful,
more serious, more deep,
more other, you understand me, look how she’s light,
and what a head she has,
and look at how she dresses,
and etcetera and etcetera”.

And I in these lines say:
Like this I want you, love,
love, Like this I love you,
as you dress
and how your hair lifts up
and how your mouth smiles,
light as the water
of the spring upon the pure stones,
Like this I love you, beloved.

To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.
I don’t know anything about light, from where
it comes nor where it goes,
I only want the light to light up,
I do not ask to the night
explanations,
I wait for it and it envelops me,
And so you, bread and light
And shadow are.

You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,
and to those who want to hear tomorrow
that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,
and let them back off today because it is early
for these arguments.

Tomorrow we will only give them
a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf
which will fall on the earth
like if it had been made by our lips
like a kiss which falls
from our invincible heights
to show the fire and the tenderness
of a true love.

Pablo Neruda

Filed under Pablo Neruda poem poetry

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In places like
Selma, Alabama,
Kids say,
In places like
Chicago and New York…
In places like
Chicago and New York
Kids say,
In places like
London and Paris…
In places like
London and Paris
Kids say,
In places like
Chicago and New York…
Langston Hughes

For Selma

Langston Hughes

Filed under poetry literature

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I held her in a dream, with arms wrapped around her backbone
A dream with arms shaped of a bed
I felt the light turn off, in this dream with no head
This dream without knee’s to ever be reborn again

Dreams with no limbs, are for certain whims

A mans bout with dreams, is a mans unfolding mean’s
You two are a team, interchangeable, the same

Life’s but a bow to the indivisibility of love without frame
When loves on the floor, you cannot pick it back up

Julio Vergara

Filed under homegirl poems poetry me eatyourownspaceship poetry attempted poetry poem

1 note

O ME! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me; 5
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Walt Whitman (1819–1892).  Leaves of Grass.  1900. 

Filed under Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900. poetry

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My sweet comings,
I have never felt my heart like this before
Like my heart, you’re no different.
So tender, so rhythmic; reliant on my breath.
I can see you with all the light the world can hold
Like the lover sun, transcending over it’s darling earth,
You’re no different.
Your sweet lucent life has well-lit mine
I can feel our little flying atoms fusing
And it makes me cower.
Julio Vergara

Filed under me poetry eatyourownspaceship poetry homegirl poems attempted poetry

7 notes

I don’t want you to be captured,
like what sky does to light.
Turning it simple and blue.
We must ask,
What does the sky ask of night?
To come gradually and swimmingly
If someone asks this of you, ask them to die.
Only when the night runs out,
May love hurt you, the right way, without guilt or appease.
I must ask,
How does one care for you lightly?
I care like lightning, for you
Julio Vergara

Filed under me poetry eatyourownspaceship poetry homegirl poems attempted poetry