March is the Month of Expectation.
The things we do not know --
The Persons of prognostication
Are coming now --
We try to show becoming firmness --
But pompous Joy
Betrays us, as his first Betrothal
Betrays a Boy.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
poem found in my notebook from earlier 2009
[i love finding first drafts of poems, especially when I think "hm what the hell was I trying to say with this?... I kind of hate this poem]
foam rising up.
we are alone in chaos.
the bitter remains of our tongues:
a common, clique experience.
all my words are used up
like discarded tissue.
All I want to do is express.
Even this experience
is only an echo
of past outcries.
foam rising up.
we are alone in chaos.
the bitter remains of our tongues:
a common, clique experience.
all my words are used up
like discarded tissue.
All I want to do is express.
Even this experience
is only an echo
of past outcries.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Rainer Says It Better: Two Rilke Poems Instead of my own
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me,
Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
[Normally I would post these on my "raise high" blog, but since I want to keep it dedicated to my 40 day experiment, I will post these two Rainer Maria Rilke poems that I feel EVERYONE can relate to at this moment. In the personal/individual but also as a collective.
Plus, I haven't written any of my own poetry worth mentioning. Rilke ALWAYS writes whatever I'm thinking/feeling better. Here is the other]
Your first word of all was light,
and time began. Then for long you were silent.
Your second word was man, and fear began,
which grips us still.
Are you about to speak again?
I don't want your third word.
Sometimes I pray: Please don't talk.
Let all your doing be by gesture only.
Go on writing in faces and stone
what your silence means.
Be our refuge from the wrath
that drove us out of Paradise.
Be our shepherd but never call us-
we can't bear to know what's ahead.
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me,
Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
[Normally I would post these on my "raise high" blog, but since I want to keep it dedicated to my 40 day experiment, I will post these two Rainer Maria Rilke poems that I feel EVERYONE can relate to at this moment. In the personal/individual but also as a collective.
Plus, I haven't written any of my own poetry worth mentioning. Rilke ALWAYS writes whatever I'm thinking/feeling better. Here is the other]
Your first word of all was light,
and time began. Then for long you were silent.
Your second word was man, and fear began,
which grips us still.
Are you about to speak again?
I don't want your third word.
Sometimes I pray: Please don't talk.
Let all your doing be by gesture only.
Go on writing in faces and stone
what your silence means.
Be our refuge from the wrath
that drove us out of Paradise.
Be our shepherd but never call us-
we can't bear to know what's ahead.
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