Whole by Katrina Wendt — Hello Poetry

26 03 2013

StumbledUpon at Hello Poetry.

So as you might be able to tell if you’re reading these recent posts en masse… I’ve found some pretty random things recently. Random perhaps, but that have each spurred me to blog, instead of paying those bills online, or catching up on my Scouty emails.

This poem came to me because I have poetry as one of the criteria for StumbleUpon to offer me pages. Mostly they’re either famous well known pieces, or banal mediocrity. This one spoke to me though. Perhaps to you too.

It aches with the simplicity of the request – love me totally, or let me go.

Was it ever so simple?

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

2011





The Look

13 11 2012

I just came across this interesting little piece.

Sometimes what we refrain from doing leaves a deeper impression.

 

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
The Look

STREPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day.





HEADS UP: Wandering Poets In Vancouver (The Drive) Writing By Request This Week : Scout Magazine

19 06 2012

HEADS UP: Wandering Poets In Vancouver (The Drive) Writing By Request This Week : Scout Magazine.

HEADS UP: Wandering Poets In Vancouver (The Drive) Writing By Request This Week : Scout Magazine

A real throwback (see Tom Sharpe for more details) to the wandering balladeers of yore. I love the very idea that it’s embraced and not ridiculed in 21st Century Vancouver.





How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

12 02 2012

I’m not big on “proper” poetry, but I found this on poets.org. It caught my eye because Ms Browning was from Coxhoe, not a million miles from where I got educated.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.





Courage

9 02 2012

Courage doesn’t always roar.

Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”

–  Mary Anne Radmacher





Poetry in eMotion, Or Just Mildly Free?

30 12 2011

I was recently introduced to Damien Rice. Well, more correctly his music. Though I’m sure he’s a really nice bloke if I ever WAS introduced to him in person. According to the inimitable Wikipedia, he’s Irish by birth, so I’m sure he knows what a proper pint of Guinness looks like too. His music’s not exactly what you’d call jolly, but it’s well crafted and the lyrics are sheer poetry.

Wikipedia: Damien Rice

Wikipedia: Damien Rice

I was particularly drawn to his song “Accidental Babies” on the album “9“.

Even if you don’t like his sound, check out the craftsmanship of his poetry (they’re only a bit rude):

“Accidental Babies” – Damien Rice

Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place
And we ignored our others, happy plans
For that delicate look upon your face
Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done

Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?

Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place
And we use cushions to cover
Happy glands
And the mild issue of our disgrace
Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the light-hearted
In the boom that beats our drum

Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love

Do you come
Together ever with him?
Is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?

What about me?
What about me?

Oh, and he can play piano too. Just sayin’…





Leadhead by caterpillarwithonewing

17 12 2011

Don’t ask me how.

Don’t ask me why.

As I get older, I become less unwise.

My eye fell upon the following beautiful poem.

Leadhead by caterpillarwithonewing.

It reminded me (very tangentially) of a book I recently read, in which Marcel with shoes on describes his breadroom. It also reminded me of every bad night’s sleep I’d ever had (less tangentially).