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December 2012

Dec 25, 2012 1 note
#Henry #Wadsworth #Longfellow #I #Heard #the #Bells #on #Christmas #Day #poem #poetry #Holiday
ALWAYS A ROSE" by Li-Young Lee

1.

What shape floats

in the dark window, what

ragged form?

Mouth, scream, edges

bared, it balances

on a long spiked, crooked

stem. I know now,

as if I’d never known, this

black shape within the night’s black shape.

-

Keep reading

Dec 23, 2012 1 note
#Li-Young Lee #Always #A #Rose #Poem #Poetry #Beautiful

November 2012

Nov 26, 2012 4 notes
#ozymandias #percy #bysshe #shelley
Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray

“The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.

The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography.

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.

The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.

No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.

No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.

Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.

From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the type.

All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.

When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.

We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless.”



Oscar Wilde


Nov 26, 2012 2 notes
#aphorisms #dorian #gray #oscar #wilde #preface #novel #book #literature #art #aesthetic
Nov 26, 2012 5 notes
#the painter #paint #brush #poetry #ocean #artist #verse #beautiful #john #ashbery
Nov 24, 2012 2 notes
#Song #Of #Myself #Walt #Whitman #poem #poetry #Barbaric #Yawp #one #with #the #earth #beautiful
Nov 19, 2012 1 note
#My #Voice #Oscar #Wilde #Poem #Poetry #Relationship #end #bitter #sad #beautiful
Nov 19, 2012 1 note
#Her #Voice #Oscar #Wilde #Poem #Poetry #Beautiful #relationship #end #regret
Apologia

IS it thy will that I should wax and wane,

Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey,

And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain

Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day?

 -

Is it thy will–Love that I love so well–

That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot

Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell

The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not?

 -

Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure,

And sell ambition at the common mart,

And let dull failure be my vestiture,

And sorrow dig its grave within my heart.

 -

Perchance it may be better so–at least

I have not made my heart a heart of stone,

Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast,

Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown.

 -

Many a man hath done so; sought to fence

In straitened bonds the soul that should be free,

Trodden the dusty road of common sense,

While all the forest sang of liberty,

 -

Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight

Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air,

To where the steep untrodden mountain height

Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair.

 -

Or how the little flower he trod upon,

The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold,

Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun

Content if once its leaves were aureoled.

 -

But surely it is something to have been

The best belovèd for a little while,

To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen

His purple wings flit once across thy smile.

 -

Ay! though the gorgèd asp of passion feed

On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars,

Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed

The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!

-Oscar Wilde

Nov 19, 2012
#Oscar #Wilde #Poem #Apologia #love #beautiful #gone #worth #it #poem #poetry
Nov 19, 2012 4 notes
#Love #Dare #Not #Speak #Name #Oscar #Wilde #Speech
Play
Nov 7, 2012 42 notes
#edgar allen poe #reading #poem
Nov 7, 2012 3 notes
#finish #charles #bukowski #poem #poetry #flower #lost #prime
Be Kind

we are always asked

to understand the other person’s

viewpoint

no matter how

out-dated

foolish or

obnoxious.

one is asked

to view

their total error

their life-waste

with

kindliness,

especially if they are

aged.

but age is the total of

our doing.

they have aged

badly

because they have

lived

out of focus,

they have refused to

see.

not their fault?

whose fault?

mine?

I am asked to hide

my viewpoint

from them

for fear of their

fear.

age is no crime

but the shame

of a deliberately

wasted

life

among so many

deliberately

wasted

lives

is.

-Charles Bukowski

Nov 7, 2012 10 notes
Nov 6, 2012 12 notes
#La Figlia che Piange #T.S Eliot #poem #poetry #urn #sunlight #hair #flowers #beautiful #The troubled midnight and the noon’s repose.
Nov 4, 2012 4 notes
#So #We'll #go #no #more #a #roving #light #moon #poem #poetry #beautiful #loss #love #parting #Lord #Byron #George #Gordon
To a young Poet

Don’t believe our outlines, forget them

and begin from your own words.

As if you are the first to write poetry

or the last poet.

If you read our work, let it not be an extension of our airs,

but to correct our errs

in the book of agony.

Don’t ask anyone: Who am I?

You know who your mother is.

As for your father, be your own.

Truth is white, write over it

with a crow’s ink.

Truth is black, write over it

with a mirage’s light.

If you want to duel with a falcon

soar with the falcon.

If you fall in love with a woman,

be the one, not she,

who desires his end.

Life is less alive than we think but we don’t think

of the matter too much lest we hurt emotions’ health.

If you ponder a rose for too long

you won’t budge in a storm.

You are like me, but my abyss is clear.

And you have roads whose secrets never end.

They descend and ascend, descend and ascend.

You might call the end of youth

the maturity of talent

or wisdom. No doubt, it is wisdom,

the wisdom of a cool non-lyric.

One thousand birds in the hand

don’t equal one bird that wears a tree.

A poem in a difficult time

is beautiful flowers in a cemetery.

Example is not easy to attain

so be yourself and other than yourself

behind the borders of echo.

Ardor has an expiration date with extended range.

So fill up with fervor for your heart’s sake,

follow it before you reach your path.

Don’t tell the beloved, you are I

and I am you, say

the opposite of that: we are two guests

of an excess, fugitive cloud.

Deviate, with all your might, deviate from the rule.

Don’t place two stars in one utterance

and place the marginal next to the essential

to complete the rising rapture.

Don’t believe the accuracy of our instructions.

Believe only the caravan’s trace.

A moral is as a bullet in its poet’s heart

a deadly wisdom.

Be strong as a bull when you’re angry

weak as an almond blossom

when you love, and nothing, nothing

when you serenade yourself in a closed room.

The road is long like an ancient poet’s night:

plains and hills, rivers and valleys.

Walk according to your dream’s measure: either a lily

follows you or the gallows.

Your tasks are not what worry me about you.

I worry about you from those who dance

over their children’s graves,

and from the hidden cameras

in the singers’ navels.

You won’t disappoint me,

if you distance yourself from others, and from me.

What doesn’t resemble me is more beautiful.

From now on, your only guardian is a neglected future.

Don’t think, when you melt in sorrow

like candle tears, of who will see you

or follow your intuition’s light.

Think of yourself: is this all of myself?

The poem is always incomplete, the butterflies make it whole.

No advice in love. It’s experience.

No advice in poetry. It’s talent.

And last but not least, Salaam.

-MAHMOUD DARWISH

Nov 1, 2012 3 notes
#To #a #young #poet #MAHMOUD #DARWISH #no #advice #love #experience #talent #poetry #poem #don't #believe #be #yourself

October 2012

Oct 31, 2012 2 notes
#I #have #found #what #you #are #like #poem #poetry #e. e. cummings #love #beautiful #rather #smile #coolness #rain
Oct 31, 2012
#i carry #your #heart #in #my #e. e. cummings #poem #poetry #beautiful #fate #sun #sweet #love
Oct 31, 2012 1 note
#i #am #a #begger #always #e. e. cummings #begs #mind #smiling #patient #never #rid #toss #thoughts #thrown #away #bother #you #any #more #poem #poetry
Oct 30, 2012 2 notes
#Stopping #by #the #woods #on #a #snowy #evening #Robert #Frost #Poem #Poetry #miles #to #go #before #I #sleep
Follow this blog if you like poetry!thesedonotmatter.tumblr.com
Oct 24, 2012 1 note
#Poetry #Poem #Blog
The Genius Of The Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

Charles Bukowski

Oct 24, 2012 5 notes
#The #Genius #of #the #crowd #Charles #Bukowski #diamond #average #person #muder #love #peace #incomplete #solitude #alone #poem #poetry #violence #preach #need #god #not #knowers
Oct 15, 2012
#I Know #Why #the #Caged #Bird #Sings #Poetry #Poem #Maya #Angelou #Beautiful #caged #free #sun #rise #wind #fearful
Oct 10, 2012
#The Road #Not #Taken #Robert #Frost #two #roads #yellow #wood #undergrowth #choice #poem #poetry #took #the #one #less #traveled #by #made #all #difference
Oct 9, 2012 2 notes
#Pablo #Neruda #Don't #Go #Far #off #leave #poem #poetry #lost #train #station #me #silhouette #go #gone #alone
Oct 8, 2012 3 notes
#robert #frost #snow #poem #verse #poetry #beautiful #old
Oct 8, 2012 7 notes
#The #Laughing #Heart #Charles #Bukowski #Your #life #clubbed #dark #submission #watch #light #way #out #poem #poetry #death #learn #your #gods #marvelous #delight #beautiful
Oct 8, 2012
#Her #Reply #Sir #Walter #Raleigh #Poem #Poetry #young #love #sorrow's #fall #youth #last #joys #beautiful #gone #pleasure's
Oct 8, 2012 8 notes
#A #Allan #Dream #Edgar #Poe #Poem #Poetry #Within #brow #days #dreams #gone #grasp #kiss #less #reality #sand #shore #slipping #thought #tormented #verse
Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone. 

Maya Angelou

Oct 8, 2012
#Alone #Maya #Angelou #Poem #Poetry #late #night #blow #know #all #nobody #can #make #it #here #moan #lost #home #thirsty
Oct 4, 2012 2 notes
#moon #who #balloon #poem #poetry #cummings #E. E. Cummings #beautiful #flower #sailing #spring

“Poetry”

And it was at that age … Poetry arrived

in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

Pablo Neruda

Oct 3, 2012 3 notes
#Poetry #Pablo #Neruda #writting #void #nothing #coming #discovery #poem #beautiful #drunk #myself #loose #wind #heart #form #universe
Oct 3, 2012
#robert #frost #late #walk #weed #brown #leaf #poem #poetry #verse #beautiful #carry #you #flower
Oct 3, 2012 8 notes
#bird #song #sing #robert #frost #poem #poetry #verse #beautiful
Oct 3, 2012
#beautiful #david #henry #light #poem #poetry #smoke #thoreau #verse #wing #flame #bird
Oct 3, 2012 1 note
#henry #david #thoreau #poem #poetry #verse #beautiful #element #spirit #things #found #current
Follow us for daily classic poetry!
Oct 2, 2012 2 notes
#poetry #poem #follow #blog #poets #classic #daily #dose #of poetry
Oct 2, 2012 5 notes
#E. E. Cummings #love #romance #romantic #thy fingers #make #early #flowers #fingers #beautiful #poem #poetry #verse #lovely #cummings

September 2012

Sep 27, 2012 2 notes
#Oscar #wild #Wilde #poem #poetry #verse #Romantic #vision #dorian
Sep 27, 2012
#Oscar #Wilde #wild #dorian #lament #poetry #poem #verse #Romantic
Sep 27, 2012 1 note
#Oscar #Wilde #wild #poetry #dorian #poem #verse #fragment #beautiful #star #crimson #lips #Romantic
Sep 27, 2012 4 notes
#Blue Jay #gergis #capote #poem #poetry #verse #blue #bleu #jay #bird
Sep 27, 2012 9 notes
#dream #girl #capote #poem #poetry #verse #love #heart
Sep 26, 2012 9 notes
#the flea #john #donne #poem #poetry #erotic #verse
Sep 26, 2012 6 notes
#bed #covering #elegy #john donne #lover #man #mistress #poe #poetry #sensual #sex #verses #women #erotic
Sep 25, 2012 7 notes
#There is some kiss we want #kiss #window #love #moon #door #rumi #poetry #poem #verse
Sep 25, 2012 38 notes
Sep 25, 2012 147,743 notes
Sep 24, 2012 4,234 notes
#Sylvia Plath #poetry #mad #girls #love #song
Letanía egoista


por Clara Lair



¡Ay, sólo quisiera
vivir las mismas cosas de distinta manera!

¡Volver a florecer; saberme florecida;
y balancearme al ritmo más quieto de la vida!

En el jardín salvaje del amor ser altiva
planta, que no florece sino al que la cultiva.

Desterrar de mi torre de reposo y de pan,
la pirueta a lo absurdo de Pierrot y Don Juan.

Oponer al foetazo encendedor del trópico,
el músculo de piedra de mi maestro exótico.

Mi maestro sajón, que burló mi donaire,
y que trocó mi canto en bostezos al aire.

¡Ay, sólo quisiera
vivir las mismas cosas de distinta manera!

No dar nada de más; dar sólo lo pedido;
y retirarlo al punto si no es retribuido.

En fría selección de rosales y eras,
desparramar mi yo por las cosas certeras.

Lanzar mi vanidad en la ruta trazada
de lo que ya está hecho, de lo que cuesta nada.

¡Volver a revivir, fuerte, dura y fornida,
y caminar atlética y autómata la vida!

¡Ay, sólo quisiera vivir
las mismas cosas de distinta manera!

¡Mirar el mundo todo como brusca humorada,
y a cambio de su nada darle también mi nada!

Sep 24, 2012 5 notes
#poema #poem #espanol #Mercedes Negrón Muñoz #Clara Lair #puerto rico
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