Thursday, January 16, 2014

January Collage/Journal and Poems

In the past and a long time a go when I was about 16 years old I started to write diary for the first time. As a teenager I remember I love recording my day to day life as a teenager. I wrote about
school, friends and puppy love. I had this boy that I had a crush on but he did not seem to notice my feelings although we dated a few times like going out to see a movie or having an ice cream together at an ice cream parlor. He came to my house visiting me but not more than that. From writing a diary it developed into writing a poem.I love writing poem. To me, it is a scrambling words that does not make sense but when you choose the words carefully and intelligently, and arrange the sentences in such a way, it can be a beautiful writing that turned to a poem. 

These poems copied from a book I bought a long time a go when I was struggling with relationships in Manhattan, New York. It is called 'Poems Between Women.' Edited by Emma Donoghue.
I hope you enjoy these beautiful poem.


When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
but I am completely nourished.

-Ursula Bethell- (1919)


You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do;
For all the world is in your arms,
My sun and stars are you.

- Sara Teasdale- (1911)


'Behold,' she said, 'a falling star!'
I followed where her vision led,
And saw no meteor near nor far;
So swiftly sank the lustre, dead.

In silvery moonlight stood she there,
Whiter than silver gleamed her hand,
And gleaming shone her yellow hair,
While dusky shadows filled the land.

She seemed a slender flickering shape,
Framed in the blackness of the porch.
How should a child of night escape!
A foolish moth that loved the torch!

Out of my dusk I came to her:
Voices were stilled, anear, afar;
I stood there lost, her worshipper;
What eye beheld that falling star?

-Annie Fields- (USA, 1834 - 1915)
*Ephemeron: an insect which, when it develops wings, lives for only a day.


When we were charming Backfisch*
With curls and velvet bows
We shared a charming kitten
With tiny velvet toes.

It was so gay and playful;
It flew like a woolly ball
From my lap to your shoulder-
And, oh, it was so small,
So warm - and so obedient
If we cried: 'That's enough!'
It lay and slept between us,
A purring ball of fluff.

But now that I am thrifty
And she is thirty-one,
I shudder to discover
How wild our cat has run.

It's bigger than a Tiger,
Its eyes are jets of flame,
Its claws are gleaming daggers,
Could it have once been tame?

Take it away, I'm frightened!
But she, with placid brow,
Cries: 'This is our Kitty-witty!
Why don't you love her now?'

-Katherine Mansfield- (New Zealand, England and France, 1888-1923)


A bird chirped at my window this morning,
And over the sky is drawn a light network of clouds.
Let us go out into the open,
For my heart leaps like a fish that is ready to spawn.

I will lie under the beech-trees,
Under the grey branches of the beech-trees,
In a blueness of little squills and cocuses.
I will lie among the little squills
And be delivered of this over charge of beauty,
And that which is born shall be a joy to you
Who love me.

-Amy Lowell- (1919)

Coming to you

through traffic, honking and off-course, direction veering
presently up your street, car slam, soon enough on my feet,
eager and hesitant, peering with the rush of coming you,
late, through hydrangeas nodding out with season's age,
and roses open outline still the edge of summer gone in
grounding rain. elsewhere, or from it, i brush by, impa-
tient, bending to your window to surprise you in that place
i never know, you alone with yourself there, one leg on
your knee, you with boots, with headphones on, grave,
rapt with inaudible music. the day surrounds you: point 
where everything listens. and i slow down, learning how to
enter - implicate and unspoken (still) heart-of -the-world.

-Daphne Marlatt- (Canada, b. 1942)

'For  Richer, For Poorer'

'Oh, give us of your oil, our lamps go out;
Your well-fed lamps are clear and bright to see;
And, if we go to buy us oil, maybe,
Far off our ears shall hear the jubilant shout,
"Behold the Bridegroom cometh, zoned about
With utter light and utter harmony":
Then leave us not to weep continually
In darkness, for souls' hunger and drought.'

Then turned one virgin of the virgins wise
To one among the foolish, with a low
Sweet cry, and looked her, lovelike, in the eyes,
Saying, 'My oil is thine; for weal, for woe,
We two are one, and where thou goest I go,
One lot being ours for aye, where'er it lies.'

-Emily Hickey- (1889)

Happy  Thursday Everyone! I hope you had a great week so far.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for your comment!