The Hollow Men by Thomas Stearns Eliot

[cowardlylion9.livejournal.com]

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

( Read more... )

"Much Madness is divinest Sense"--Emily Dickinson

[random-tantrums.livejournal.com]

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
'T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you sane;
Demur,--you're straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

"When My Sorrow Was Born" & "And When My Joy Was Born" by Khalil Gibran

[mercury-sound.livejournal.com]

 
When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.

And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.

And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.

( And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow. )

--

And when my joy was born I held it in my arms and stood on the house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that laugheth in the sun."

( But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was my astonishment. )

En Paz (In Peace) - Amado Nervo

[hirra-chan.livejournal.com]

So near to my decline, I bless you, life
because you never gave me false hope
or work unjust or punishment undeserved;

because I see at the end of my harsh path
that I was the architect of my own destiny;
that if I extracted bitterness or sweetness of things,
it was because, in them, I placed a bitter or sweet taste;
when I planted rosebushes I always harvested roses.

It’s true though, after my blooming there will be winter
but you never told me May was so eternal!

I found nights of worry long,
but you never promised otherwise,
yet I had some that were sacredly serene…

I loved, I was loved, the sun fondled my face.
Life, you owe me nothing! Life, we are at peace!


Original in Spanish here

My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up The Task -- Jon Pineda

[aimlesswanderer.livejournal.com]

My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up The Task
by Jon Pineda

A basket of apples brown in our kitchen,
their warm scent is the scent of ripening,

and my sister, entering the room quietly,
takes a seat at the table, takes up the task

of peeling slowly away the blemished skins,
even half-rotten ones are salvaged carefully.

She makes sure to carve out the mealy flesh.
For this, I am grateful. I explain, this elegy

would love to save everything. She smiles at me,
and before long, the empty bowl she uses fills,

domed with thin slices she brushes into
the mouth of a steaming pot on the stove.

What can I do? I ask finally. Nothing,
she says, let me finish this one thing alone.

Tumbling-hair // e.e. cummings

[riotact.livejournal.com]

Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers

Who was the Naughty Girl?

[suchnuch.livejournal.com]

Who was the naughty girl I saw combing her hair with a bluebell

Who was the naughty girl I saw paying her fare with a seashell

Who was the naughty girl I saw sawing the seesaw in two

Who reported Dr Barnardo to the NSPCC

Peter Scott to the RSPB

Who sent the Pope a Playboy key, Jack Ruby a get-well card

The Elephant Man a Valentine card, Pontius Pilate a Xmas card

The Boston Strangler a calling card

Who was the naughty girl who passed Lot the salt

Who went to lunch with William Burroughs, naked

Who fed foie gras to the geese

Who helped the blindman into the ladies

Who snitched on Guy Fawkes

Who switched on Caryl Chessman

Who knitted socks for the Viet Cong

Who was the naughty girl

who put L.S.D. in my Horlicks

Evostick in my contact lenses

Chloroform in my handkerchief

Pig's liver in my pockets

Ants in my gants

Who was the naughty girl?

Why, you.