poetry

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I Would Like to Describe - Zbigniew Herbert

I would like to describe the simplest emotion joy or sadness but not as others do reaching for shafts of rain or sun I would like to describe a light which is being born in me but I know it does not resemble any...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 2 comments

untitled - Issa

A huge frog and I, staring at each other, neither of us moves....

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 1 comments

Feeling Fucked Up - Etheridge Knight

Lord she's gone done left me done packed / up and split and I with no way to make her come back and everywhere the world is bare bright bone white crystal sand glistens dope death dead dying and jiving drove her awa...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments

Waking up Drunk on a Spring Day - Li Po

Life is a huge dream why work so hard? all day long I drink lying outside the front door awakening looking up through the trees in the garden and one bird singing in the flowers bird, what season is this?...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments

This Pine Tree - Ono no Komachi

This pine tree by the rock must have its memories, too— after a thousand years, see how its branches lean toward the ground....

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments

Returning to my Cottage - Wang Wei

A bell in the distance the sound floats down the valley one by one woodcutters and fisherman stop work, start home the mountains move off into darkness alone, I turn home as great clouds beckon from the h...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments

He Wishes for the Cloths Of Heaven - William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being ...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments

An Evening Dream - Ryokan

An evening dream-- everything must have been an illusion; I cannot explain clearly even one part of what I saw. Yet in the dream it seemed as if the truth were in front of my eyes. This morning, awake, is it not the s...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 1 comments

untitled - Peter Compernolle

enlightened, i knowthe meaning of samsara.i weep for my pen...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 2 comments

fallen leaves: an ode to gordon - Peter Compernolle

wintertime has come too soon--already, it's november.picking up fallen leavesno words to express my sorrow...

November 20 @ 5:54pm | 2 comments