Archive

Poetry at large

kiss_by_keziahkissCome…let us live and love,
nor give a damn what sour old men say.
The sun that sets may rise again
but when our light has sunk into the earth,
it is gone forever.
Give me a thousand kisses,
then a hundred, another thousand,
another hundred
and in one breath
still kiss another thousand,
another hundred.
O then with lips and bodies joined
many deep thousands;
confuse
their number,
so that poor fools and cuckolds  (envious
even now)  shall never
learn our wealth and curse us
with their
evil eyes.

from Catullus
click image for artist

Marriage_by_allison712

We are love
and conversation
and truth.

We find those little ways to speak to each other
to say even with subtle gestures
what the other already knows.

A spark, even after twenty years, that, too,
makes life anew, sensual,
sexual in strange ways

the light in the morning
on pale skin…
a laugh and low talking.

Then coffee.

I many times find it hard to believe
the wedding day wasn’t yesterday.
Yet I feel the sting of so many washed up years…

many good but washed with bleach
pale…
soft and gentle and there
full of wishes and dreams that are yet to come.

Is it too late to feel renewed, rejuvenated?

Feeling this makes a mid-aged life fresh and livable.
Full of desire and bright light and fresh green trees
like the ones trying to spark in spring
in the yard
beyond the mulch and parked cars

where the lawn keepers parked their lawn mowers.

_______________
4/22/13

This Wit has been down for a bit, literally, in more ways than one…but my esteem  is coming back, and hopefully some “witicisms” along with it. Business with life sometimes

squashes inspiration, or, when one is more inclined, it actually does the opposite, and, so

I am trying.

 

treesI am looking at trees
they may be one of the things I will miss
most from the earth
though many of the ones that I have seen
already I cannot remember
and though I seldom embrace the ones I see
and have never been able to speak
with one
I listen to them tenderly
their names have never touched them
they have stood round my sleep
and when it was forbidden to climb them
they have carried me in their branches

~W. S. Merwin

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 939 other followers

%d bloggers like this: