And Death Shall Have No Dominion, Dylan Thomas
And death shall have no dominion. Dead mean naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have...
pseudopoetry: In between Sense and insanity Lies my heart Tattered Across the floor Scattered Into many pieces Are the shards Of a broken soul Splintered Refracting the light That never ages
Sonnet 138, William Shakespeare
When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnéd in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue; On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed. But wherefore says she not...
Breakfast, Jacques Prévert
He put the coffee In his cup He put the milk In the cup of coffee He put the sugar In the cup of coffee He stirred it With the little spoon He drank the coffee And he put the cup down Without speaking to me He lit A cigarette He blew rings With the smoke He put the ash In the ash-tray Without speaking to me Without looking at me He got up He put His hat on He put his...
Try to Praise the Mutilated World, Adam Zagajewski
Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world. You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it, while salty oblivion awaited others. You’ve seen the refugees heading...
The Soul's Storm, Emily Dickinson
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night, It blistered in my dream; It sickened fresh upon my sight With every morning’s beam. I thought that storm was brief,- The maddest, quickest by; But Nature lost the date of this, And left it in the sky. ©Michael Board ...