Browsing All posts tagged under »poetry«

Take Me By the Tongue and I’ll Know You

April 12, 2013 by

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I’ve already talked about this one a couple of times. If you’d like some alternative visuals try Sherlock or X-Men. Apparently an awful lot of people have the moves like Jagger… Playlist link here.  

Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting

April 8, 2013 by

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I tell her I love her like not killing or ten minutes sleep beneath the low rooftop wall on which my rifle rests. I tell her in a letter that will stink, when she opens it, of bolt oil and burned powder and the things it says. I tell her how Pvt. Bartle says, offhand, […]

You Will Hear Thunder

March 25, 2013 by

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You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire. That day in Moscow, it will all come true, when, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten […]

What She Was Wearing

November 28, 2012 by

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this is my suicide dress she told him I only wear it on days when I’m afraid I might kill myself if I don’t wear it you’ve been wearing it every day since we met he said and these are my arson gloves so you don’t set fire to something? he asked exactly and this […]

Acquainted With the Night

November 14, 2012 by

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 I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and […]

Character Sketch in 32 Words

October 15, 2012 by

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I want a trouble-maker for a lover, Blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, Who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate, Who burns like fire on the rushing sea. — #862: From Rumi’s Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi. Edited by Badiozzaman Forouzanfar (Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1988). Translated by Zara Houshmand  

drunk sonnet 32

July 10, 2012 by

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I HATE THAT I NEED DEPRESSION TO FEEL LIKE MYSELF I DON’T KNOW LIFE WITHOUT IT COME ON, WHAT AM I EVEN DOING? IS HAPPINESS A GOOD THING? DEPRESSION FEELS LIKE A BEARHUG FROM A BEAR AND THE BEAR CAN’T SPEAK BUT ITS WARM, WET FUR SPEAKS AND IT SAYS, I LOVE YOU, I AM […]

Left With His Hands

June 11, 2012 by

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The Boot Theory by Richard Siken A man walks into a bar and says:                                                                 Take my wife–please.                               […]

Not Language but a Map

April 12, 2012 by

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The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say, God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according to which nation. French has no word for home, and […]

Wednesday Poetry: Sanguine

April 4, 2012 by

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Now I know the taste of your lips: it is an ardor. Sanguine as, what’s left after the thing itself is gone. Which proves I’ve lived. And that’s there amongst all my treasured phrases. This is why I write. For the ambiguity. And can I describe it? 27 Feb 2005–4 April 2012