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What Poetry Moved You?


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YOU WERE MY FAIRY TALE PRINCESS,

SO MUCH LARGER THAN LIFE.

YOU WERE MY ANGEL AND MY WITNESS

THROUGH ALL MY PAIN AND STRIFE.

 

AT TIMES YOU MADE ME ANGRY,

GREAT WORDS I WOULD PROCLAIM

HOW SOMEDAY YOU;D BE SORRY.

YOU WERE THE ONE TO BLAME.

 

BUT WHEN I NEEDED COMFORTING

YOU ALWAYS FOUND THE TIME.

YOUR WORDS WERE MORE SOOTHING

THAN DAYS OF CHILDHOOD SUBLIME.

 

NOW THE DISTANCE HOLDS US APART,

THE BOUNDARIES HAVE NO END.

I'LL HOLD THE MEMORIES IN MY HEART

YOU'RE MY MOTHER, MY BEST FRIEND

 

by anonymous

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  • 3 weeks later...

SONNET XVII by Pablo Neruda

 

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

 

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

 

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

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  • 2 months later...

Nabasa ko s isang magazine nung bata pa ako,

 

I'd like to say some words to you

Please listen to me for a while

It concerns about the boy i love

The one who made me smile

 

He loved me once, not long ago

But that was then before

Since you came into his life

He didn't love me anymore

 

..

..

..

 

(I forgot the rest, but the ending was)

 

 

 

Offer him the love i can no longer show

 

 

 

:(

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  • 2 months later...
  • 3 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...

I was reminded of this poem when a certain lady said that "hindi sya nagsusuklay ng buhok", although it has no relation to this poem. Lol!

From Randall Mann.

 

The Fall of 1992

 

Love was a doorknob

statement, a breakneck goodbye --

and the walk of shame

without shame, the hair disheveled, curl

of Kools, and desolate birds like ampersands...

 

I re-did my face

in the bar bathroom, above

the urinal trough.

I liked it rough. From behind the stall,

Lady Pearl slurred the words: Don't hold out for love.

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Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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  • 3 weeks later...

This was the poem I referred to in another room:

 

Billy Collins, "Statues in the Park"

 

I thought of you today

when I stopped before an equestrian statue

in the middle of a public square,

 

you who had once instructed me

in the code of these noble poses.

 

A horse rearing up with two legs raised,

you told me, meant the rider had died in battle.

 

If only one leg was lifted,

the man had elsewhere succumbed to his wounds;

 

And if four legs were touching the ground,

as they were in this case -

bronze hooves affixed to a stone base -

it meant that the man on the horse,

 

this one staring intently

over the closed movie theater across the street,

had died of a cause other than war.

 

In the shadow of the statue,

I wondered about the others

who had simply walked through life

without a horse, a saddle, or a sword -

 

pedestrians who could no longer

place one foot in front of the other.

 

I pictured statues of the sickly

recumbent on their cold stone beds,

the suicides toeing the marble edge,

 

statues of accident victims covering their eyes,

the murdered covering their wounds,

the drowned silently treading the air.

 

And there was I,

up on a rosy-gray block of granite

near a cluster of shade trees in the local park,

my name and dates pressed into a plaque,

 

Down on my knees, eyes lifted,

praying to the passing clouds,

forever begging for just one more day.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Weird Emily again... it's been a while.

 

I can’t tell you, but you feel it
Nor can you tell me,
Saints with vanished slate and pencil
Solve our April day.

Sweeter than a vanished frolic
From a vanished green!
Swifter than the hoofs of horseman
Round a ledge of dream!

Modest, let us walk among it.
With our “faces veiled”,
As they say polite archangels
Do, in meeting God.

Not for me to prate about it,
Not for you to say
To some fashionable Lady
“Charming April Day!”

Rather Heaven’s “Peter Parley”
By which, Children slow
To sublimer recitations
Are prepared to go!

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Sampung Bagay na Natutunan ko sa mga Umiibig

Una. Napakatamis ng mga simula. Ng mga umaga na ang bumubunga sa ‘yo ay ang kaniyang mukha. Nag-aalmusal ka ng kilig. At hanggang sa gabi ay baon mo siya hanggang sa paghimbing. Dito. Dito mo matututunan ang tunay na kapangyarihan ng isang ngiti. Ng ibang kamay na humahawi sa iyong buhok. Ng mga matang sumisisid sa iyong kaluluwa.

 

Pangalawa. Napakadaling makampante at masanay sa pagmamahal. Ang malunod sa kapangyarihan ng kami, ng tayo, ng ikaw at ako. Ang hindi pansinin ang pangangailangan ng kaniya. Paano naman ang kaniya lang? Paano naman ang ako? Napakadaling malunod sa akalang ang iyo ay mananatiling iyo.

 

Pangatlo. Mapapagod ka.

Pero –

 

Pang-apat. Sandali, ang tunay na pag-ibig hindi dapat sumusuko, ‘di ba?

Pero,

 

Panlima, ang tunay na pag-ibig ay hindi parating sapat. Kapag ang mga pakpak na binigay nito sa iyo ay bumigat at naging kadenang ni ayaw ka nang patayuin, kapag ang langit ng pusong minsa’y nilipad ay naging kulungang nasa ‘yo naman ang susi at kandado pero ayaw mong lisanin…

 

Pang-anim. Ang pinakamabagsik mang apoy ay mamamatay. Maghanda ka sa sakit. Pero huwag kang mag-aalaga ng galit – ito ang

 

Pampito. iiwanan kang puno ng sugat at pilat at paltos nito. Iiwanan kang umuusok sa poot sa kaniya, sa mundo, sa sarili mo. Iiwanan ka nitong abo.

 

Pangwalo. Maghanda ka sa wakas.

 

Pansiyam. Alam ko, parang hindi ka pa handa sa wakas. Wala naman yata talagang nagiging handa sa wakas pero nandiyan na siya –

At sa wakas,

 

Pansampu. Mahalin mo pa siya. Sa tingin, sa tanaw, mula sa abo na iniwan ng inyong apoy, mahalin mo pa siya. Pero kung ang pakpak ng pag-ibig ay naging gapos na, kapag ang dating langit sa puso mo ay binilanggo ka, mahalin mo siya sa huling pagkakataon. Pagkatapos, bitaw na.

 

~Severo, Juan Miguel. Sampung Bagay na Natutunan ko sa mga Umiibig

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  • 5 weeks later...

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

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  • 3 weeks later...

When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be




When I have fears that I may cease to be

Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,

Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,

Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;

When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,

Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to trace

Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the faery power

Of unreflecting love—then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

Edited by Unwritten
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  • 4 weeks later...

Berso #2 by Maningning Miklat

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog.
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay mahulog,
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.

Kung mag-isa ako huwag nang isipin,
Sa dilim ay dapat pa akong hanapin.
Habang may luha ay huwag pang ibigin,
Sa pangarap ko ay huwag nang gisingin.

Kaya kong maghintay sa mga tula mo
Makinig sa awit ng kabilang dako
At tuklasin sa paglalakad na ito
Hamog at luha ng bulaklak at damo.

Mapapanood and sayaw ng tutubi
Mapapakinggan ang ibong humuhuni
Hihinahon ang pusong di mapakali
At hihimlay na sa mapayapang gabi.

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay nahulog
Parang ang puso ko nga itong nadudurog.

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  • 2 weeks later...
An excerpt from "The Ode to Autumn "
.... Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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  • 2 months later...

Excerpt from the abandoned Hyperion - by John Keats.

 

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale,

Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,

Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,

Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,

Still as the silence round about his lair.

Edited by Unwritten
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