October 23, 2013
Preludes
(ii)
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the saw-dust trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands.
With other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.
(iii)
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting alone the bed's edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : American
October 23, 2013
Circe'. . . vitreamque Circen'
Something of glass about her, of dead water, Chills and holds us, Far more fatal than painted flesh or the lodestone of live hair This despair of crystal brilliance. Narcissus' error Enfolds and kills us- Dazed with gazing on that infertile beauty Which is our own heart's thought. Fled away to the beasts One cannot stop thinking; Timon Kept on finding gold. In parrot-ridden forest or barren coast A more importunate voice than bird or wave Escutcheoned on the air with ice lett... Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : Irish
August 9, 2013
How to Tell if a Writer Loves You and so he fell in love with a girl
who wrote about her thoughts from her
mind that never reached her lips
(the writer doesn't speak
she talks in hidden subscripts)
and he found himself reading
about himself and seeing
the feeling(s)
she summarized in a simple
"I think you're perfect"
and it was strange to see
parts of him on page twenty-three
like knowing a stranger had his smile
and wore his same style
and his words and his (cheesy) jokes
were muttered by a few fictional fo... Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : modern
August 5, 2013
Bois Epais/ Sombre Woods (Original French) Bois epais redouble ton ombre, Tu ne saurais etre assex sombre, Tu ne peux trop cacher Mon malheureux amour; Je sens un desespoir Dont l'horreur est extreme, Je ne dois plus voir ce que j'aime, Je ne veux plus souffrir le jour. (English translation) Sombre woods, ye glades dark and lonely,
Where midnight gloom enters only, oh!
Hide my slighted love
In your unbounded night;
If now this broken heart
Nevermore may enfold her,
If no more these eyes may behold her,
Then ev...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : French
August 5, 2013
Japanese Night Song
The shadow of a heron's wing is on the water,
And the pines have drawn slim fingers across the moon.
Hush, breathe lightly, wind in the plum tree,
Scatter your dreams like petals over her heart. Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : Unknown
July 25, 2013
Except from Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt my love.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it. Adieu.
Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : British
July 19, 2013
You describe your heart As cold But in reality There is no cold Just a lack of heat And I think this feeling You feel Is the result of Too much love being put out And not enough love Being given back, And all the blankets In the world Could not cure you But the arms of one lover Wrapped tightly around your waist Could heat your heart enough To burst out of your chest And bring the earth To flames. Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : modern
July 13, 2013
She buried
her ears
into the calm
of his heartbeat,
and in a matter of seconds:
fell terrible in love
with the way
her loneliness fell
softly and suddenly,
asleep,
in his chest. ... Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : modern
July 12, 2013
I.
Dawn- the writer who
hasn't shaved,
Poring over notebooks
II.
The cat: a little
body being used
By a little person
III.
Disturbing my mind essence,
all that food
I have to cook
IV.
Neons, Chinese restaurants
coming on--
Girls come by shades
V.
When the moon sinks
down to the powerline,
I'll go in
VI.
The low yellow
moon above
The quiet lamplit house ... Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : American
July 12, 2013
Unknown (found on Pinterest)
you're the smoke
that i inhale
the drug that i inject into
my bloodstream
and it's too late
to get rid
of
you. Continue reading...
Posted by Sara Emeli Amber. Posted In : modern
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This Blog
This is a sampling of some poets whom I have come to know and love. If you find something you like, look up the poet and do some research. I don't like typing up the really long stuff, so if you don't look them up, you might miss their best stuff! Anyway, enjoy my poetry addiction!
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