(no subject)

[amberdawnpullin.livejournal.com]

Car Cemetery

car cemetery
The abandoned cars
The color of car paint, new at night
under neon
The dead reside in cars
---the old man, filthy,
keeper of the graveyard
Children, curious, throw stones

- Jim Morrison

(no subject)

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

To Solitude

O solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,--
Nature's observatory--whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavillion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Keats, John. 1817. Poems.

EARTH

[fototropical.livejournal.com]

We walk on
an unsilvered
mirror,
a crystal surface
without clouds.
If lillies would grow
backwards,
if roses would grow
backwards,
if all those roots
could see the stars
and the dead not close
their eyes,
we would become like swans.

---Federico Garcia Lorca

(no subject)

[c-quilty.livejournal.com]

Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

-- John Donne

One of My Favorite Seamus Heaney Poems

[paradoxigal.livejournal.com]

Hey everyone, I'm fairly new to this community and this is my first post. Just wanted to share a Heaney poem I'm very taken with:

Sibyl

My tongue moved, a swung relaxing hinge.
I said to her, 'What will become of us?'
And as forgotten water in a well might shake
At an explosion under morning

Or a crack run up a gable,
She began to speak.
'I think our very form is bound to change.
Dogs in a siege. Saurian relapses. Pismires.

Unless forgiveness finds its nerve and voice,
Unless the helmeted and bleeding tree
Can green and open buds like infants' fists
And the fouled magma incubate

Bright nymphs...My people think money
And talk weather. Oil-rigs lull their future
On single acquisitive stems, Silence
Has shoaled into the trawlers' echo-sounders.

The ground we kept our ear to for so long
Is flayed and calloused, and its entrails
Tented by an impious augury.
Our island is full of comfortless noises.'

Seamus Heaney