*Poetry*

Ponygurl · Post edited by Ponygurl at 2020-01-15 23:21:33

I discovered 'Ariel' by Sylvia Plath as a teenager and was struck by her voice. It was full of passion and life that had nowhere to go, except straight into the sun. It was before I had learned that her husband was having an open affair on her and had gotten the other woman pregnant. Her life caught in the crossfire of a passionate love and the despair of losing it.

Here's a clip of her called 'What Made You Stay?'

She's pulling an accent and talking about England- so amusing..so true.

*You know I was thinking about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath recently. He used to beat the fuck out of her, rape her, and tell her he wished she were dead. He burned all her journals after she died. Makes you wonder if Sylvia’s death was even a suicide at all. His mistress wound up dead too, from an apparent “suicide” as well. Makes one wonder why Ted Hughes is even celebrated as a poet at all. He was a monster.

Ponygurl · Post edited by Ponygurl at 2019-02-12 03:22:02

Just watched the film 'Cold War' and was inspired to write this poem. (Btw,The ending of this film sucked..just like 'My Summer of Love' and 'Ida'- all big cop-outs)

( there's no title)

God and the Devil

God and evil

God and vil

God and il

God and l

God.

Ponygurl

“I love you and there is no poetry more beautiful than that.“

-Patti Smith

Ponygurl · Post edited by Ponygurl at 2019-10-31 03:04:08

Witch-Wife

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.

She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun ‘tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.

She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
________

Edna St. Vincent Millay

whispered

There has been some controversy in the UK lately over the teaching of "French lesbian poetry". Here's some by Renee Vivian (translated into English), who was a prominent during the Parisian Belle Epoche

The Touch

The trees have kept some lingering sun in their branches,
Veiled like a woman, evoking another time,
The twilight passes, weeping. My fingers climb,
Trembling, provocative, the line of your haunches.

My ingenious fingers wait when they have found
The petal flesh beneath the robe they part.
How curious, complex, the touch, this subtle art--
As the dream of fragrance, the miracle of sound.

I follow slowly the graceful contours of your hips,
The curves of your shoulders, your neck, your unappeased breasts.
In your white voluptuousness my desire rests,
Swooning, refusing itself the kisses of your lips.

Roses Rising

My brunette with the golden eyes, your ivory body, your amber
Has left bright reflections in the room
Above the garden.

The clear midnight sky, under my closed lids,
Still shines....I am drunk from so many roses
Redder than wine.

Leaving their garden, the roses have followed me....
I drink their brief breath, I breathe their life.
All of them are here.

It's a miracle....The stars have risen,
Hastily, across the wide windows
Where the melted gold pours.

Now, among the roses and the stars,
You, here in my room, loosening your robe,
And your nakedness glistens

Your unspeakable gaze rests on my eyes....
Without stars and without flowers, I dream the impossible
In the cold night.

Ponygurl

For Willyce

When i make love to you
i try
with each stroke of my tongue
to say i love you
to tease i love you
to hammer i love you
to melt i love you
& your sounds drift down
oh god!
oh jesus!
and i think—
here it is, some dude’s
getting credit for what
a woman
has done,
again.

Pat Parker
1978.

Ponygurl

Love after Love.

whispered

Beautiful, @Ponygurl , and beautifully read

Ponygurl

I think so too, and yes he has a warm expressive voice. This is a ‘Letters Live’ he did. It’s wonderful. It’s a love letter from Gerald Durrell to Lee McGeorge. ( I immediately thought of ‘The Durrells of Corfu’ :D which I love) it’s called-

All this I did without you (Happy Valentine’s Day! Xo)

whispered · Post edited by whispered at 2020-02-26 12:40:25

Song to the Siren

Long afloat on shipless oceans

I did all my best to smile

'Til your singing eyes and fingers

Drew me loving to your isle

And you sang, "Sail to me, sail to me, let me enfold you"

Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you

Did I dream you dreamed about me?

Were you hare when I was fox?

Now my foolish boat is leaning

Broken lovelorn on your rocks

For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow"

Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow

I'm as puzzled as as the oyster

I'm as troubled as the tide

Should I stand amid the breakers?

Or should I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you"

Oh my heart, oh my heart is waiting to hold you

whispered

My Mum died in the small hours of this morning. Her favourite poem is very appropriate:

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Urban_Tribesman

Aw, that’s awful Whispered. My sympathies and condolences to you and your family. Having lost my Mum a couple of years ago, I know the emotional rollercoaster you are experiencing right now.

All I can say is the pain will pass with time and you will come to just remember the good times and celebrate her life.

Speak her name, it’s very comforting. My Mum was called Barbara, and this was one of her favourite, if a bit on the nose, pieces from Omar Khyyam. We put in her order of service.

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,

Before we too into the Dust descend;

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!

whispered

Thanks UT

Ponygurl · Post edited by Ponygurl at 2020-04-10 14:30:28

@whispered

I’m so sorry whispered. As you know, I am going through the same thing..I’m walking this journey with you. That is a gorgeous poem. Oh, the passing of time. To enjoy Nature in all of it’s seasons, not just the ephemeral bloom.

I’m going through waves of emotion myself. I’ll be fine one moment, then something will remind me of her and I’ll have a small breakdown. I’m going through her house now, and boy..it’s tough. She was only in her 60’s, but she had lived a full adventurous life on her own terms and had been married 6 times. Kathleen. I’m finding photos of her when she was young and my God, she was stunning. My childhood was an absolute disaster because of her, but she had apologized for it before she had passed and it has made all of the difference.

Are you picking music for her? I know the state of the World has put off plans for a celebration of life for my own mom. We are thinking about doing one in July on her Birthday. I use to play ‘Blackbird’ by the Beatles for her on guitar, as it was one of her faves.

Let yourself feel it whispered. Go through every emotion- it’s necessary. All is in the name of Love.

Love from me, xoxo

whispered · Post edited by whispered at 2020-04-11 04:27:25

Thank you @Ponygurl. Yes, I sent you a PM on here after your mother died. It's very tough at the moment. Like you, we are postponing any memorial event until we can all be together. I'm not sure about music yet; but one of my earliest memories is of listening to Mum playing the piano as I lay in bed.

She was a beautiful woman in every way; always smiling, always ready to help anyone who needed it.

She had a lifelong hatred of unearned privilege and always on the side of the underdog. Even in the hospice, weak and in pain as she was, she tore a new one for the chaplain who took it upon himself to visit her bedside and regurgitate platitudes about his god's grace.

What I'm most grateful for are how she was able to help my daughter feel like she was completely fine as she was; she didn't need to come top of the class, or look a particular way - she was enough in herself. That has been such a fantastic legacy in a world that tries to tear down girl children.

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