tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76030860643319049172023-11-15T05:06:40.553-08:0069 Mementos of LoveCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-70371494187590921362012-08-27T16:33:00.004-07:002012-08-27T16:42:48.087-07:00The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed wih rain
water
beside the white
chickens
William Carlos WilliamsCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-46155982292508044242011-04-07T13:22:00.000-07:002011-04-07T13:26:34.144-07:00The Ruins of the Heart, RumiIn the house of mud and water, my heart has fallen into ruin, Enter this house, my love, or let me leave.Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-53192433378905580122010-07-25T17:56:00.000-07:002010-07-25T18:04:45.379-07:00Gacela of Unforseen Love, by LorcaNo one understood the perfume<br />of the dark magnolia of your womb.<br />Nobody knew that you tormented<br />a hummingbird of love between your teeth.<br /><br />A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep<br />in the plaza with moon of your forehead,<br />while through four nights I embraced<br />your waist, enemy of snow.<br /><br />Between plaster and jasmine, your glance<br />was a pale branch of seeds.<br />I sought in my heart to give you<br />the ivory letters that say "siempre",<br /><br />"siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony,<br />your body elusive always,<br />that blood of your veins in my mouth,<br />your mouth already lightness for my death.<br /><br /><br />Written by Frederico Garcia LorcaCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-71353900035334615612010-05-07T06:43:00.000-07:002010-05-07T06:51:33.601-07:00Susanna Lay ...II<br /><br />In the green water, clear and warm<br />Susanna lay.<br />She searched<br />The touch of springs,<br />And found<br />Concealed imaginings.<br />She sighed,<br />For so much melody.<br /><br />Upon the bank, she stood<br />In the cool<br />Of spent emotions.<br />She felt, among the leaves.<br />The dew<br />Of old devotions.<br /><br />She walked upon the grass,<br />Still quavering.<br />The winds were like her maids,<br />On timid feet,<br />Fetching her woven scarves,<br />Yet wavering.<br /><br />A breath upon her hand<br />Muted the night.<br />She turned -<br />A cymbal crashed,<br />And roaring horns.<br /><br /><br />[Peter Quince at the Clavier]<br /><em>Written by Wallace Stevens</em>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-28529432743396162932010-04-04T10:56:00.000-07:002010-04-04T11:16:15.039-07:00love letter, sylvia plathNot easy to state the change you made.<br />If I'm alive now, then I was dead,<br />Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,<br />Saying but according to habit.<br />You didn't just toe me an inch, no-<br />Nor leave me to set my small bald eye<br />Skyward again, without hope, of course,<br />Of apprehending blueness, or stars.<br /><br />And I slept like a bent finger.<br />The first thing I saw was sheer air<br />And the locked drops rising in dew<br />Limid as spirits. Many stones lay<br />Dense and expressionless round about.<br />I didn't know what to make of it.<br />I shone, mica-scalded, and unfolded<br />To pour myself out like fluid<br />Among bird feet and the stems of plants.<br />I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.<br /><br />Tree and stone glittered without shadows.<br />My finger-length grew lucid as glass.<br />I started to bud like a March twig:<br />An arm and a leg, an arm, a leg.<br />From stone to cloud, so I ascended.<br />Now I resemble a sort of god<br />Floating through the air in my soul-shift<br />Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.<br /><br /><br />Written by other-worldly <em>Sylvia</em> <em>Plath</em><br /><br />Oh! I utterly adore this poem.Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-63940231534234289142010-02-13T22:00:00.000-08:002010-02-13T22:06:11.759-08:00Kavya: From the Sanskirt, Octavio PazConfidence: Confusion<br /><br /><br />At the side of the Bed<br />the knot came undone by itself,<br />and barely held by the sash<br />The robe slipped to my waist.<br />My friend, it is all I know: I was in his arms<br />and I can not remember who was who<br />or what we did or how.<br /><br /><br />-VikatanitambaCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-17326006242533494192009-12-22T17:41:00.000-08:002010-01-19T17:53:51.903-08:00Art for the Soultreat your mind & heart to this ~<br /><br /><a href="http://wwwsoulreflectionsinartcom-colleen.blogspot.com/">http://wwwsoulreflectionsinartcom-colleen.blogspot.com/</a>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-89248944034039335672009-12-20T20:45:00.000-08:002009-12-20T20:53:37.785-08:00The Nuptial CountenanceNativity, guide the unyielding,<br />may they find their foundations,<br />the almond believable in the fresh day to come.<br /><br />Evening has closed its corsair's gash where<br />the rockets soared aimlessly amid dogged fear.<br />Past now the micas of mourning on your face.<br /><br />Unquenchable pane: my breath was already<br />grazing the friendship of your wound,<br />arming your hidden royalty.<br /><br />And from the lips of the fog descended our joy<br />with its threshold of dune, its roof of steel.<br />Awareness increased the quivering array<br />of your permanence;<br />faithful simplicity spread everywhere.<br /><br /><br />Rene CharCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-89515186930667126302009-11-07T14:58:00.000-08:002009-11-07T15:16:17.087-08:00Secret Pleasures of LoveThe Rocking Chair, A. M. Klein<br /><br /><br />It is an act and a symbol, symbol of this static folk<br />which moves in segments and returns to base ~<br />a sunken pendulum: <em>invoke</em>, <em>revoke; </em><br />loosed you, leashed hither, motion on no space.<br />O, like some Anjou ballad, all refrain,<br />which turns about its longing, and seems to move<br />to make a pleasure out of repeated pain,<br />its music moves, as if always back to a first love<br /><br /><br /><br /><em><strong>A.M. Klein </strong></em>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-15500645315952855472009-10-05T17:38:00.000-07:002009-10-05T17:43:51.620-07:00I Love You Through Yourself<em>Through the Half-Opened Window, Leon-Gontran Damas</em><br /><em></em><br /><br />on my disdain of the world<br />a breeze was rising<br />perfumed with stephanotis{jasmine}<br />while you drew towards <em>YOURSELF</em><br />the whole curtain<br /><br />Such<br />do I see you<br />shall I always see you<br />drawing towards yourself<br />the whole curtain of the poem<br />where<br /><em>God</em> you are lovely<br />but so long getting naked<br /><br /><br />Leno-Gontran DamasCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7603086064331904917.post-53656668788225698572009-09-22T17:59:00.001-07:002009-09-22T18:21:54.664-07:00MadLove<em>Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath<br /></em><br /><br />"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;<br />I lift my lids and all is born again.<br />{I think I made you up inside my head.}<br /><br />I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed<br />And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.<br />{I think I made you up inside my head.}<br /><br />God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:<br />Exit seraphim and Satan's men:<br />I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.<br /><br />I fancied you'd return the way you said,<br />But I grow old and forget your name.<br />{I think I made you up inside my head.}<br /><br />I should have loved a thunderbird instead;<br />At least when spring comes they roar back again.<br />I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.<br />{I think I made up you inside my head.}"<br /><br /><br />Sylvia PlathCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10256391836026637655noreply@blogger.com6