Her Morning Elegance

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in it's case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And She goes...
Nobody knows

~Oren Lavie

Heavy Sigh

He bought me a dozen roses.
He sang me a new song every night.
He took some wood and carved a heart out of it.
He sent me a note while I was at work to brighten up my day.
He gave me a yellow flower when the sky was grey.
He took me out dancing, even though he didn't like to dance.
He likes to hold my hand, whether everyone is looking or not.
He likes to kiss, but not too much...
He doesn't want to lead me too far, he said...
He loves to joke around, and I love to smile at him.
He tells me everything that's on his mind, he doesn't hide.
He said that he does it because he loves me,
Because he can't help how he feels inside.
He said he wants my life to be like his started to be when he met me.
He wrote me a symphony.
Every day he makes a new poem and leaves it tacked onto my backpack.
Verses for me and me alone.
He always opens the door for me.
He never runs away.
I don't care if our romance doesn't last this way forever
Because he shows me every day what he is made of,
He is made of love.
I want this for my whole life.
I want a man made of the stuff that he's made of.
He has his faults, but he is good, internally.
I could trust this man with my heart
If he wasn't so made up.
At first I pulled back. I didn't believe him.
I thought it was a joke. I thought he had no reason.
I thought he was just pulling my rope,
To get me unhinged to get into bed with him.
Like they always do.
I thought he was making fun of me.
I didn't believe him.
He later asked me how long I'd be running away.
I told him, it is just because I can't stand to be loved in any way.
That way when it ends, I at least can say:
I never really knew love anyway. See?
He said, "Well I'll prove to you,
I'll prove to you that you are.
I'm different. You'll see. The difference is me, this time, it's me."

"You can dry your salty tears,
Leave behind those lonely years.
I always knew inside my heart
There's be a brilliant girl somewhere
Who can sing and dance and play and write
Who is so beautiful."

And I damn myself by dreaming up such a guy.
I curse myself and wish to die a thousand
Thousand times.
Vanity vanity vanity.
Who am I to think ANYONE
Ever could feel this way for me?
I'm stupid, so so stupid for ever believing in love.
I hate romance.
I hate that which I can never have but want.
It ruins me.
All the potential that I would have if only...

If only I were numb all of the time.

Whoever said that it is better to have loved and lost...
They were obviously a man.

I guess you must be happy.
I'm sure you're glad to see me this way
You think I won't remember
Every day.

So the bitterness lingers.
This night, it's not only me.
This time, it's more than just heartstrings being pulled here and there.

It all boils down to this:

I must be going.
This is a distraction.
I'll see you in July.

The Mafia

Sent me for bananas.
I could fly.
I could also run really fast.
I ran and apprehended
The opposers.
Then there was an evil bride.
She had an obsession with her
Gothic wedding.
I told her I didn't belong there.
She was like a witch.
I took down her decorations.
And had a decent wedding instead.
And there was this bossy mom telling us what to do.

In a dark time

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood—
A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
I live between the heron and the wren
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstances? The day’s on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks—is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in a broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is—
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark, dark my light and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.



Theodore Roethke

There stood a rose

There stood a rose,
Single and white,
Drops of dew on its face.
It opened itself up
So slowly.
And in its glory was adored.

In the Secret

In the secret of my quiet room,
There I wait and wonder
You come to me and know me.
I will love you forever.

From the highest of heights
To the depths of the sea,
I come to you to know you.
You will love me forever.

Indiscribable, uncontainable,
Incomprable, untamable,
You see the depths of my heart
And you love me the same...

It's just how I feel right now.

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,
Where I may not remove nor be removed.

~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 25

Vision

It was a spiritual battlefeild
I was infuriated.
My lips whispered desperate prayers.
The prayers did their damage,
They damaged my Enemy.
I fought feircely for you.
I was overcome, surrounded by Evil.
The leader came.
He took all of my freedom.
He took all of my joy.
He took all that I delight in
And twisted it into shame.
Then the Evil one took me far away from all that I knew.
Even if I could somehow get away, I would be lost.
But the Holy One came,
The Son of the Father,
Jesus Christ.
He found me.
He was dressed in white,
He carried a staff that was also a spear.
The Evil one took the form of a wild animal.
The wild animal could move faster than eyes could see.
They fought. He could not even touch the Holy one,
So he turned on the captives.
He decimated us, began to tear us to bits,
Until the King said,
Stop.
He said this in a loud voice.
He put down his spear and stood defenseless
Before the animal.
He instructed his messenger to take us to safety.
He died while I was freed.
We arrived at my Father's house.
The Holy One entered the room.
He was healing too.
"How did you escape?" I asked
"I didn't have to," He said. "He got tired after a while.
He could not destroy me, I am the Son of God!"
I protested: "But he tore you into peices!
You were unarmed. You died."
And he smiled and said:
"Yes. I died because I was a man.
But I lived because I am God.
And you lived because I am in you,
Living in you."

I praise the tender flower,
That on a mournful day
Bloomed in my garden bower
And made the winter gay.
Its loveliness contented
My heart tormented.
I praise the gentle maid
Whose happy voice and smile
To confidence betrayed
My doleful heart awhile;
And gave my spirit deploring
Fresh wings for soaring.
The maid for very fear
Of love I durst not tell:
The rose could never hear,
Though I bespake her well:
So in my song I bind them
For all to find them.

~Robert Bridges

I looked out over the hills,
I saw that it was fall.
The leaves were dancing
I felt so alive in that moment,
Surrounded by the beauty of it all.

The ice was in the wind,
But not on the ground.
Crisp, it was me walking around
There in that moment.
I felt so alive, so enchanted by it.

The wind had journeys of a thousand
Thousand miles. The air
It brought was warm and cold,
It was awakening, not chilling.
The fish jumped out of the stream.

I thought of you. I thought,
How I long to share this moment.
But I was alone. It stung.
And I could not tell
If the spell was wicked or good.

The sun is going down now,
Filling the rooms with a warm hue.
Filling my heart with thoughts,
Thoughts of you. But I have no right
No right to think those things.

This beauty does not belong to me.
I long to be a part of it,
But I am not, and I need to accept that now.
I long to bring it to someone,
But no one sees, or cares, or notices.

I have foresaken my humanity

I have waited, watching.
I looked over the great white sea,
Cold and sharp like glass.
I can't tell you how I feel.

The beauty that is the snow.
Whether it break ministers or mobs,
Whether it take a great sky to bed with it.
It will also always be....
This is the ultimate dream to wake from.

There never was the youth.

Try, try. Grow, growing.

And holding you would be loveliest.
But this snow. This is what is.
Threatened by some peril in the wilderness.

The event was soon to be decided.
It was planned and plotted.
Known and thought of

There is no history today.
There are only sugar-plum fairies.
Dancing in the cold, deadly.

Sometimes

Sometimes the roads we tread
Take us to places we didn't think of.
Sometimes the glory of the sunrise
Is fleeting, and in blinking, we miss it.

I wandered to the mountains.
I wandered to the seas.
I saw you in all things, and in all things,
I learned that you can have all other things.

I sit here alone, day after day,
Night after night on my porch in the country.
The country where it is always warm
They hay is always new
The cows are in the distance.
It rains, and I glory in the smell after the rain.

I am far away.

I saw myelf as an old woman, regretting.
She looked at me and said,
"I never married. I never held little ones.
I worked and strived. I wrote many things.
I brought joy into people's lives,
But then they all had their own ways to go.
Permanence," she told me, "Permanence is
a bigger lie than anything else. In all my years
Of all my studies, all I can say is that everything
Everything is always changing.
Civilizations or the weather. Friendships and family.
They are all, always changing."
Then she looked very sad, this ancient version of myself.
She told me that she died with her songs still in her.
Her thoughts and ideas had gone unshared.
She had lived long and loved many,
But now she sits.
Sits.
Sits.