POems & More
Extract (LIfe and Death)
"Well, there were two sisters who lived in a place called Mandouro. They lived on their own, in a bungalow left to them by their parents. From the house you could see the sea and all the ships leaving Europe bound for the South Seas. One sister was Life and the other, Death. They were two good girls, a pleasure to look at and be with." "The one called Death was pretty as well?" Dombodán asked with concern. "She was. Well, she was pretty, if a bit horse-like. The ... Read more » |
The big heart
Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father Dunne, and all in their short lives give to me repeatedly, in the way the sea places its many fingers on the shore, again and again and they know me, they help me unravel, they listen with ears made of conch shells, they speak back with the wine of the best region. They are my staff. They comfort me. They hear how the artery of my soul has been severed and soul is spurting out upon them, bleeding ... Read more » |
The best poem of Humanity
At Saint Simon´s chapel I took my seat and was caught by the waves, how tall they seem I was waiting for my friend! Will he come? At the chapel before the altar-stone I was caught by the waves, they seem to grow. I was waiting for my friend! Will he come? And was caught by the waves, how tall they seem I have no boatman to row for me. I was waiting for my friend! Will he come? And was caught by the waves, the sea bellow, I have no boatman, nor know how to row. I was waiting for my friend! Will he come? I have no boatman to row for me, fair maid I shall die on the open sea. I was waiting for my friend! Will he come? I have no boatman, nor know how to row, fa ... Read more » |
The Three Wise Kings (English)
My name is Kaspar. I the incense bear. The glamour of the Star has made me wise. I say that love is vaster than the skies. And God exits. And Life is pure and fair. -My name is Melchior. And my myrrh scents all. There is God. He is the light of morn.
The fairest blossoms from the dust are born, And joy is shadowed by a threatful pall. -My name is Balthasar. I bring a wreath Of Orient gold, my gift. I come to say That God exists. I know all by the ray Of starry light upon the crown of Death. ... Read more »
Views: 568 |
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Date: 16 January 2010
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Rhyme LIII. The dark-winged swallows will return...
Views: 391 |
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Date: 14 January 2010
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The Separate Rose:
Today is that day, the day that carried a desperate light that since has died. Don’t let the squatters know: let’s keep it all between us, day, between your bell and my secret. Today is dead winter in the forgotten land that comes to visit me, with a cross on the map and a volcano in the snow, to return to me, to return again the water fallen on the roof of my childhood. Today when the sun began with its shafts to tell the story, so clear, so old, the slanting rain fell like a sword, the rain my hard heart welcomes. You, my love, still asleep in August, my queen, my woman, my vastness, my geography kiss of mud, the carbon-coated zither, you, vestment of my persistent song, today you are reborn again and with the sky’s black water confuse me and ... Read more »
Views: 558 |
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Date: 13 January 2010
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