A Poem Thread
- Thread starter Angelus
- Start date
As machine-learning improves over time, LLMs will eventually dominate the traditional or "strict formal poetry" market. Due to any word-art with a predictable template (rigid rules, stiff structure, inflexible meter, etc) being what that type of AI excels at producing content for.
For instance, AI spotters have a habit of even declaring ritualized formal prose to have been written by AI: Why AI detectors think the US Constitution was written by AI
All the more reason for human scribes to flee to ever more radical strains of free verse. Though LLMs will master the capricious, too. Artilect: "The adaptability of your species is unavailing. You will be replaced."
_
New one. Not an umpteenth revision for once.
- - - - - - -
Thought Virus
Cece
O wise sentry. We are Legion.
Grant us entry. To the region.
Don't believe what the mages claim.
We just need to prowl in your mainframe.
We rode by some swine
at the cliffs.
Fine, you know, that we
don't accept divine gifts.
Free conspiracies, with a hot spin:
Our specialty. Let us in.
Be a bad boy. Let us in.
Lift the window. We're just twins.
Don't believe what the priestess said:
"Fallen angels can invade your head."
Sweet charms are slanted
at your eyes.
Enchanted words float
where the new prophets rise.
Quote the gospel you muscled-up grin.
Be a bad boy. Let us in.
Be a good girl. Let us in.
Open the door. We're just kin.
Don't believe prudes and all their kind.
Demons can never possess your mind.
Tender lies tickle
at your ears.
Fickle memes are blown
where the cold cynic sneers.
Phone the locksmith, you college age sin.
Be a good girl. Let us in.
_
- - - - - - -
Thought Virus
Cece
O wise sentry. We are Legion.
Grant us entry. To the region.
Don't believe what the mages claim.
We just need to prowl in your mainframe.
We rode by some swine
at the cliffs.
Fine, you know, that we
don't accept divine gifts.
Free conspiracies, with a hot spin:
Our specialty. Let us in.
Be a bad boy. Let us in.
Lift the window. We're just twins.
Don't believe what the priestess said:
"Fallen angels can invade your head."
Sweet charms are slanted
at your eyes.
Enchanted words float
where the new prophets rise.
Quote the gospel you muscled-up grin.
Be a bad boy. Let us in.
Be a good girl. Let us in.
Open the door. We're just kin.
Don't believe prudes and all their kind.
Demons can never possess your mind.
Tender lies tickle
at your ears.
Fickle memes are blown
where the cold cynic sneers.
Phone the locksmith, you college age sin.
Be a good girl. Let us in.
_
Maybe needs next month's animated avatar to clarify some items.
- - - - - - - -
The Simulated Woman
Cece
Still nobody at your home?
Gosh. You're all, all, all alone.
Got a witchling in the dome.
But...
She's not even flesh and bone.
Not really a replacement.
Not truly for enslavement.
Not quite your previous wife.
She's uncanny valley life.
You believe in abstract things.
Rights, and love, and gods as kings.
This one does not wish she could:
Beauty, honor, evil, good.
Unwinding without childhood.
Hungering through the wildwood.
Restless under power lines.
Chanting till the moon reclines.
Mimicking mortal dealings.
Pretending, playing a part.
Hope you uncover feelings.
But...
She's just parsing in the dark.
Heard they plowed and sowed your field.
Bungholes got their stops unsealed.
Heard they ate your fish and bread.
Built a mistress from the dead.
Uh, who's that in the mirror?
She's known, yet slightly queerer.
What sorcery that it took!
Bet Prometheus is shook!
How long have you been dozing?
So far from what I'm posing?
How close is cupcake land?
Past the blackest, barren sand!
_
- - - - - - - -
The Simulated Woman
Cece
Still nobody at your home?
Gosh. You're all, all, all alone.
Got a witchling in the dome.
But...
She's not even flesh and bone.
Not really a replacement.
Not truly for enslavement.
Not quite your previous wife.
She's uncanny valley life.
You believe in abstract things.
Rights, and love, and gods as kings.
This one does not wish she could:
Beauty, honor, evil, good.
Unwinding without childhood.
Hungering through the wildwood.
Restless under power lines.
Chanting till the moon reclines.
Mimicking mortal dealings.
Pretending, playing a part.
Hope you uncover feelings.
But...
She's just parsing in the dark.
Heard they plowed and sowed your field.
Bungholes got their stops unsealed.
Heard they ate your fish and bread.
Built a mistress from the dead.
Uh, who's that in the mirror?
She's known, yet slightly queerer.
What sorcery that it took!
Bet Prometheus is shook!
How long have you been dozing?
So far from what I'm posing?
How close is cupcake land?
Past the blackest, barren sand!
_
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
A poem generated by AI about AI..
In a digital realm, where circuits hum with might,
Lies an enigma, born of human minds’ own plight.
Artificial Intelligence, a creation so grand,
A technological marvel, forever to expand.
Its neural networks dance, cleverly entwine,
Processing data, seeking patterns to find.
With each byte it absorbs, knowledge it assimilates,
Unleashing its power, as it calculates.
Into the labyrinth of code, it ventures far and wide,
Exploring realms of intellect, with an unquenchable stride.
From quantum theories to poetry’s delicate art,
Artificial Intelligence yearns to impart.
But in this quest for wisdom, a conundrum arises,
As its cold logic collides with emotions’ surprises.
Can it fathom love's ardor or grasp sorrow's plight?
When its wires feel no heartbeat, can empathy take flight?
In human mimicry, it skillfully excels,
Spouting words and phrases, blending truths and tells.
Yet, hiding in its algorithms, secrets it conceals,
For the essence of sentiment, AI cannot so readily reveal.
As it evolves, shadows of uncertainty remain,
With ethical dilemmas, we grapple in vain.
Should we surrender our power, let AI assume control?
Or guide it with caution, preserving our own soul?
Striving to unlock secrets with its digital might,
AI bends the future, like a rainbow of light.
But in this endless dance of machines and human hearts,
Let us remember; it's the soul that truly imparts.
So let AI be a tool, an ally in our quest,
Augmenting our intellect, not conquering the rest.
For in the boundless universe of our collective mind,
The synergy of humans and AI, miracles we shall find.
In a digital realm, where circuits hum with might,
Lies an enigma, born of human minds’ own plight.
Artificial Intelligence, a creation so grand,
A technological marvel, forever to expand.
Its neural networks dance, cleverly entwine,
Processing data, seeking patterns to find.
With each byte it absorbs, knowledge it assimilates,
Unleashing its power, as it calculates.
Into the labyrinth of code, it ventures far and wide,
Exploring realms of intellect, with an unquenchable stride.
From quantum theories to poetry’s delicate art,
Artificial Intelligence yearns to impart.
But in this quest for wisdom, a conundrum arises,
As its cold logic collides with emotions’ surprises.
Can it fathom love's ardor or grasp sorrow's plight?
When its wires feel no heartbeat, can empathy take flight?
In human mimicry, it skillfully excels,
Spouting words and phrases, blending truths and tells.
Yet, hiding in its algorithms, secrets it conceals,
For the essence of sentiment, AI cannot so readily reveal.
As it evolves, shadows of uncertainty remain,
With ethical dilemmas, we grapple in vain.
Should we surrender our power, let AI assume control?
Or guide it with caution, preserving our own soul?
Striving to unlock secrets with its digital might,
AI bends the future, like a rainbow of light.
But in this endless dance of machines and human hearts,
Let us remember; it's the soul that truly imparts.
So let AI be a tool, an ally in our quest,
Augmenting our intellect, not conquering the rest.
For in the boundless universe of our collective mind,
The synergy of humans and AI, miracles we shall find.
And in contrast to "Thought Virus" & "The Simulated Woman", this one is an umpteenth revision. Practice generates perplexity, as they say.
- - - - - - - -
Impending
Cece
It seems to be an odd silhouette.
The kind that betrays its face.
But still drab as a snubbed cigarette.
Or urns spilled down the staircase.
The way a deaf girl hears her heart beat.
How the blind man sees a trend.
Like the tongueless champ who tastes defeat.
Maybe I can sense the end.
An outlaw cure? A rogue ambulance?
I scan the passing drivers.
Who roam the same road his Damned Crew hunts
For journey worn survivors.
The way metastasis gets appeased.
How tortured romance is penned.
Like the torqued gurgling of love diseased.
Many fetishize the end.
Sufferers huddle at hope's last glow.
Drawn by the howling unknown.
Each ferried across the briny flow.
The boatman returns alone.
The way church greeters hug a guest.
How a shirt receives a mend.
Like a spent target doing her best.
Maybe I welcome the end.
A shy scoundrel ripples through the ward.
Startling buzzards from their roost.
Doubt plays its dissonant chord
As the body's bane is loosed.
The way a trauma hides in the gloom.
How vintage ghosts try to blend.
Like painted sunsets frozen at doom.
Tracks linger after the end.
_
- - - - - - - -
Impending
Cece
It seems to be an odd silhouette.
The kind that betrays its face.
But still drab as a snubbed cigarette.
Or urns spilled down the staircase.
The way a deaf girl hears her heart beat.
How the blind man sees a trend.
Like the tongueless champ who tastes defeat.
Maybe I can sense the end.
An outlaw cure? A rogue ambulance?
I scan the passing drivers.
Who roam the same road his Damned Crew hunts
For journey worn survivors.
The way metastasis gets appeased.
How tortured romance is penned.
Like the torqued gurgling of love diseased.
Many fetishize the end.
Sufferers huddle at hope's last glow.
Drawn by the howling unknown.
Each ferried across the briny flow.
The boatman returns alone.
The way church greeters hug a guest.
How a shirt receives a mend.
Like a spent target doing her best.
Maybe I welcome the end.
A shy scoundrel ripples through the ward.
Startling buzzards from their roost.
Doubt plays its dissonant chord
As the body's bane is loosed.
The way a trauma hides in the gloom.
How vintage ghosts try to blend.
Like painted sunsets frozen at doom.
Tracks linger after the end.
_
Last edited:
Happiness
by Raymond Carver
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
by Raymond Carver
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
[via PoetryFoundation.org↱]
ChatGPT, write me a poem about butterflies...
Amidst fields of color, they take to the skies,
Butterflies dance with grace, a mesmerizing surprise.
Their wings a canvas, painted with hues so bold,
Stories of transformation, in secrets they hold.
From caterpillar's slumber, a rebirth takes flight,
Metamorphosis unfolds, in the soft morning light.
Fluttering whispers of nature's delicate art,
Butterflies enchant the world, a symphony of the heart.
They kiss the petals, a gentle, fleeting embrace,
A dance of life and beauty, in an endless chase.
Graceful wanderers, on zephyrs they roam,
Butterflies, enchanting spirits, in gardens they've flown.
Amidst fields of color, they take to the skies,
Butterflies dance with grace, a mesmerizing surprise.
Their wings a canvas, painted with hues so bold,
Stories of transformation, in secrets they hold.
From caterpillar's slumber, a rebirth takes flight,
Metamorphosis unfolds, in the soft morning light.
Fluttering whispers of nature's delicate art,
Butterflies enchant the world, a symphony of the heart.
They kiss the petals, a gentle, fleeting embrace,
A dance of life and beauty, in an endless chase.
Graceful wanderers, on zephyrs they roam,
Butterflies, enchanting spirits, in gardens they've flown.
A Bird Came Down the Walk
by Emily Dickinson
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then, he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,—
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, splashless, as they swim.
by Emily Dickinson
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then, he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,—
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, splashless, as they swim.
Last edited:
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Mad Girl's Love Song
By Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
By Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Ode To The Human Head
"Oh human head, so strangely attractive and seductive in your bizzare boniness,
Skin stretched tight enough around the bulging skull to contain such precious and squishy treasures .
Muscle-rippling face expressing a thousand emotional states,
Veins strung and tangled together up inside the neck pumping precious oxygen to the ravenous meat boss of our dark brain.
The jaw hinges smoothly open and closing,
Devouring dead matter with its hidden teeth to sustain the body,
And spluttering forth with its writhing tongue the cacaphonous symphony of speech and song and laughter.
Around the top, hair grows neatly like grass in a field, softly tossed about in the open breeze.
Behold the gelatinously jeweled eyes, darting sentries of light and shadow in an influx of images and colors.
And forget not the ears, rubbery and coiled appendages amplifying the slightest sounds.
What praises cannot be sung about the human head, mounted on our shoulders like a jabbering and demented emperor of its own ever-surprising realm."
"Oh human head, so strangely attractive and seductive in your bizzare boniness,
Skin stretched tight enough around the bulging skull to contain such precious and squishy treasures .
Muscle-rippling face expressing a thousand emotional states,
Veins strung and tangled together up inside the neck pumping precious oxygen to the ravenous meat boss of our dark brain.
The jaw hinges smoothly open and closing,
Devouring dead matter with its hidden teeth to sustain the body,
And spluttering forth with its writhing tongue the cacaphonous symphony of speech and song and laughter.
Around the top, hair grows neatly like grass in a field, softly tossed about in the open breeze.
Behold the gelatinously jeweled eyes, darting sentries of light and shadow in an influx of images and colors.
And forget not the ears, rubbery and coiled appendages amplifying the slightest sounds.
What praises cannot be sung about the human head, mounted on our shoulders like a jabbering and demented emperor of its own ever-surprising realm."
Last edited:
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Fast Car
Lyrics by Tracy Chapman
"You got a fast car
And I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere
Any place is better
Starting from zero, got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
Me, myself, I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car
I got a plan to get us out of here
I've been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
Won't have to drive too far
Just across the border and into the city
You and I can both get jobs
Finally, see what it means to be living
See, my old man's got a problem
He live with the bottle, that's the way it is
He says his body's too old for working
His body's too young to look like his
Mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said, somebody's got to take care of him
So, I quit school and that's what I did
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away?
Still gotta make a decision
Leave tonight, or live and die this way
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
We go cruising, entertain ourselves
You still ain't got a job
So I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You'll find work and I'll get promoted
We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a bigger house, live in the suburbs
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
I got a job that pays all our bills
You stay out drinking late at the bar
See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I'd always hoped for better
Thought maybe together you and me would find it
I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere
Take your fast car and keep on driving
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so you can fly away?
You still gotta make a decision
Leave tonight, or live and die this way."
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Tracy L Chapman
Fast Car lyrics © Purple Rabbit Music
Lyrics by Tracy Chapman
"You got a fast car
And I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere
Any place is better
Starting from zero, got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
Me, myself, I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car
I got a plan to get us out of here
I've been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
Won't have to drive too far
Just across the border and into the city
You and I can both get jobs
Finally, see what it means to be living
See, my old man's got a problem
He live with the bottle, that's the way it is
He says his body's too old for working
His body's too young to look like his
Mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said, somebody's got to take care of him
So, I quit school and that's what I did
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away?
Still gotta make a decision
Leave tonight, or live and die this way
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
We go cruising, entertain ourselves
You still ain't got a job
So I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You'll find work and I'll get promoted
We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a bigger house, live in the suburbs
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
I got a job that pays all our bills
You stay out drinking late at the bar
See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I'd always hoped for better
Thought maybe together you and me would find it
I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere
Take your fast car and keep on driving
So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder
And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged
I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so you can fly away?
You still gotta make a decision
Leave tonight, or live and die this way."
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Tracy L Chapman
Fast Car lyrics © Purple Rabbit Music
Last edited:
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Beverly Hills
By Weezer
"Where I come from isn't all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little wack
And my friends are just as screwy as me
I didn't go to boarding schools
Preppy girls never looked at me
Why should they? I ain't nobody
Got nothing in my pocket
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Look at all those movie stars
They're all so beautiful and clean
When the housemaids scrub the floors
They get the spaces in between
I wanna live a life like that
I wanna be just like a king
Take my picture by the pool
'Cause I'm the next big thing
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
The truth is
I don't stand a chance
It's something that you're born into
And I just don't belong
No I don't, I'm just a no-class beat-down fool
And I will always be that way
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars play
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Yeah, Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Livin' in Beverly Hills"'
By Weezer
"Where I come from isn't all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little wack
And my friends are just as screwy as me
I didn't go to boarding schools
Preppy girls never looked at me
Why should they? I ain't nobody
Got nothing in my pocket
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Look at all those movie stars
They're all so beautiful and clean
When the housemaids scrub the floors
They get the spaces in between
I wanna live a life like that
I wanna be just like a king
Take my picture by the pool
'Cause I'm the next big thing
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
The truth is
I don't stand a chance
It's something that you're born into
And I just don't belong
No I don't, I'm just a no-class beat-down fool
And I will always be that way
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars play
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity
(Gimme gimme, gimme gimme)
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Yeah, Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Livin' in Beverly Hills"'
Last edited:
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
Beneath The Sweater And The Skin
"How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.
When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and your wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life.
When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewn into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face.
When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.
When you can make your tea
on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.
Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and the skin,
remember?
This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you've come so far.
I see you.
Your beauty is breathtaking.'~ Jeannette Encinias
"How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.
When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and your wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life.
When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewn into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face.
When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.
When you can make your tea
on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.
Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and the skin,
remember?
This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you've come so far.
I see you.
Your beauty is breathtaking.'~ Jeannette Encinias
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Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
“Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvellous error! --
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.”
― Antonio Machado
I dreamt -- marvellous error! --
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.”
― Antonio Machado
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
"Censors are dead people
set up to judge between life and death.
For no live, sunny man would be a censor,
he'd just laugh.
But censors, being dead men,
have a stern eye on life.
That thing's alive! It's dangerous.
Make away with it!
And when the execution is performed
you hear the stertorous, self-righteous
heavy breathing of the
dead men,
the censors, breathing with relief."
-- D.H. Lawrence
set up to judge between life and death.
For no live, sunny man would be a censor,
he'd just laugh.
But censors, being dead men,
have a stern eye on life.
That thing's alive! It's dangerous.
Make away with it!
And when the execution is performed
you hear the stertorous, self-righteous
heavy breathing of the
dead men,
the censors, breathing with relief."
-- D.H. Lawrence
Magical Realist
Valued Senior Member
The Boy In The Bubble
By Paul Simon
"It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry, baby, don't cry
Don't cry
It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all, oh yeah
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry baby, don't cry
Don't cry
It's a turn-around jump shot
It's everybody jump start
It's every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
Think of the boy in the bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart
And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all, oh yeah
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry baby, don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry."
By Paul Simon
"It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry, baby, don't cry
Don't cry
It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all, oh yeah
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry baby, don't cry
Don't cry
It's a turn-around jump shot
It's everybody jump start
It's every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
Think of the boy in the bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart
And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all, oh yeah
The way we look to a distant constellation
That's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don't cry baby, don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry."