Thursday, August 28, 2014

Ed Meek / At the End




AT THE END
by Ed Meek

He was so old his bones seemed to swim in his skin.
And when I took his hand to feel his pulse
I felt myself drawn in. It was as faint
as the steps of a child
padding across the floor in slippers,
and yet he was smiling.
I could almost hear a river
running beneath his breath.
The water clear and cold and deep.
He was ready and willing to wade on in. 





Saturday, August 16, 2014

Sara Teasdale / It Will Not Change



It Will Not Change
Sara Teasdale 


It will not change now
After so many years;
Life has not broken it
With parting or tears;
Death will not alter it,
It will live on
In all my songs for you
When I am gone.



Sunday, August 10, 2014

Sara Teasdale / If I Must Go


If I Must Go

Sara Teasdale 


If I must go to heaven's end
Climbing the ages like a stair,
Be near me and forever bend
With the same eyes above me there;
Time will fly past us like leaves flying,
We shall not heed, for we shall be
Beyond living, beyond dying,
Knowing and known unchangeably.




Saturday, August 9, 2014

Sara Teasdale/ I Have Loved Hours At Sea


I Have Loved Hours At Sea

by Sara Teasdale  

I have loved hours at sea, gray cities,
The fragile secret of a flower,
Music, the making of a poem
That gave me heaven for an hour;

First stars above a snowy hill,
Voices of people kindly and wise,
And the great look of love, long hidden,
Found at last in meeting eyes.

I have loved much and been loved deeply--
Oh when my spirit's fire burns low,
Leave me the darkness and the stillness,
I shall be tired and glad to go.





Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Sara Teasdale / I Love You

Hoja
Illustration by Triunfo Arciniegas
I Love You

by Sara Teasdale  

When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep,
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.

When April tells the thrushes,
The meadow-larks will know,
And pipe the three words lightly
To all the winds that blow.

Above his roof the swallows,
In notes like far-blown rain,
Will tell the little sparrow
Beside his window-pane.

O sparrow, little sparrow,
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.




Saturday, August 2, 2014

Denise Levertov / Love Poem

Love Poem
by Denise Levertov
BIOGRAPHY
Maybe I’m a ‘sick part of a
sick thing’
      maybe something
       has caught up with me
certainly there is a 
mist between us
    I can barely
see you
       but your hands
are two animals that push the 
mist aside and touch me.