If you forget me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

 by Pablo Neruda

moving on and a related article

Review:
I feel like the ideas presented in this poem are kind of sophomoric, as if true love has a choice. If you dont love me then i wont love you na-nah-naaa-naaa-na. I understand the feeling though, but i have only ever felt that feeling while in a mediocre time killing kind of relationship. This poem is a good read though, even if i dont agree with the subject portrayed.

More:

1. The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems (Bilingual Edition) (English and Spanish Edition)
2. Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair: Dual-Language Edition (Penguin Classics) (Spanish and English Edition)
3. Love Poems (New Directions Paperbook)
4. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda
5. Neruda and Vallejo: Selected Poems

Word of the day:

eschew

\ es-CHOO \  , transitive verb;

1.

To shun; to avoid (as something wrong or distasteful).

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Where the sidewalk ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.


by Shel Silverstein

1. Where the Sidewalk Ends 30th Anniversary Edition: Poems and Drawings 
2. Falling Up 
3. A Light in the Attic Special Edition 
4. Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook 

i love this kind of sidewalk art. i think im going to learn how to do it

fugacious

\ fyoo-GAY-shuhs \  , adjective;

1.

Lasting but a short time; fleeting.

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Barry Bonds Indicted by Tom J. Mariani

OJ and Barry what else can I say
Court TV has been waiting for this day
Their ratings in 2008 will soar
I can see the crowd hear the roar

Both just trying to get their 'stuff' back
And if you believe that 'Jack'
Do you think Bond's value won't drop
Even if his friends to a plea never cop

Giants picked a good time to let him go
He was no longer the national show
Put on hold the Hall of Fame
Indicted what a shame

by Tom J. Mariani

click the pic for his trial info

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Spring! by Alex Fischer

Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring! How wonderful is the
Spring! How majestic is the
Spring! How fantastic is the
Spring! How tantalizing is the
Spring! How glorious is the
Spring! How melodious is the
Spring! How joyful is the
Spring! How breathtaking is the
Spring! How uplifting the
Spring! How happy is the
Spring! How magnificent is the
Spring! How colorful is the
Spring! How tasteful is the
Spring! How memorable was the
Spring! How flavorful is the
Spring! How aromic is the
Spring! How sweet is
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring!

Alex Fischer
Alex Fischer started writing in the 8th Grade with short stories on a comical character called Agent 009 Handgun. Mostly using these for stories that had to be written for class, he never once thought that writing would be something he was interested in. By the 10th Grade he entered the world of poetry, and realized how much he adored it. Now in the 12th grade, Alex continues to write poetry and short stories, and even is working on a book and a play. In his seemingly long two years of writing he has written well over 80 poems and over a dozen short stories. Even though he does not believe himself to be a very good poet, many of his friends and family say otherwise.

a flower that i recently planted ^_^

Poetry REVIEW:
well... SPRINNNNNNNNG. My favorite time of the year <3


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Dirge by William Shakespeare

COME away, come away, death,

And in sad cypres let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave

To weep there!

by William Shakespeare

ff7: DIRGE of Cerberus Wallpaper ^_^

More Shakespear Sonnets

• Sonnet 5
• Sonnet 4
• Sonnet 3
• Sonnet 2

Other Shakespear Poetry

• Love
• Dirge
• Fairyland I

Word of the day:

apposite

\ AP-uh-zit \  , adjective;

1.

Being of striking appropriateness and relevance; very applicable; apt.

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To earthquake victims by Nilotpal sarmah

Captive I am to your unsettling plight
as you are, of mother’s harshest of truths,
world’s shocked eyes on these cruel sights,
pain, even time, is detained to soothe.
Mother’s uncharted heart, whose dark rhythm,
caters to death’s dreaded but imminent dance,
a break on the victimized mortal’s freedom,
and silent turns life’s hope-tuned cadence.
Submerged houses and burning industrial structures,
preceding phase of which have sufficed with living
to all you humble souls, unfairly now you suffer,
and to the lost souls we are all grieving.
Industrial spillage and ensuing alarm,
a gruesome reminder of a war torn phase,
may all hands join and keep you unharmed,
with hopes that this war, may no life have to face.
Mother’s rage the children has to confront,
caring minds and helping hands are our power
to their brother’s woes nations will step forth
to cleanse it out of this storm-hit bower.

i wonder if  they can see usa down there.

blandishment

\ BLAN-dish-muhnt \  , noun;

1.

Speech or action that flatters and tends to coax, entice, or persuade; allurement -- often used in the plural.

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Ono no Komachi by Kokin Wakashu

I recently found this Japanese poem and explanation from searching the inter-webs. Its beautiful, and a testimonial to the mind of the Japanese writer. #prayforjapan

Though I go to you
ceaselessly along dream paths,
the sum of those trysts
is less than a single glimpse
granted in the waking world.

The poem appeares as No. 658 in the Kokin Wakashu, an old anthology of poems from the 12th century. Komachi was a classic even at that time: she lived in the 9th century.

夢ぢには あしもやすめず かよへども うつつにひとめ 見しごとはあらず

yumeji ni wa ashi mo yasumezu kayoedomo utsutsu ni hitome mishigoto wa arazu

A line-by-line translation:

in [my] dreams / along dream paths
without resting my legs
[I] go often [to you]
in the real world, a single glimpse
is different.

kayoedomo is from kayou "to commute", "to come and go". kayoe is the izenkei form; domo is a suffix like keredo, meaning "although...". hitome means "a glimpse". Usually it is written as 一目, but hito also means "a person", so hitome implies by this ambiguity that its a glimpse of a person, and a loved one. Anyway, this is a love poem...
mishi is the rentaikei of miki, the past tense of miru, "to see". In modern Japanese, it would be mita.
arazu means "there is no" (arimasen in modern Japanese), and "it is not, it is different" (de wa nai). 

Actually, somewhere I read another translation of this poem, I cant recall it exactly, but something like this:
"I go often to you in my dreams, but I never see you in the real world."
In a way, this is a possible translation too, but then, where is the poesie? 

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WORD OF THE DAY!

JAPAN!