mOtLeY

I do not love you...

2008-01-09T13:43:00.000-08:00

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,risen from the earth,
lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

- Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

(Translated by Stephen Tapscott)

Sheer genius. No?

Do not stand at my grave and weep

2007-08-07T02:38:00.000-07:00

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond's glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripening grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of circled birds in flight,
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

--Anonymous

Funeral Blues

2007-05-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-- W. H. AUDEN

Down and Out in Law School

2007-05-29T03:33:00.000-07:00

I have been happy, tho’ in a dream;
I have been happy, and I don’t know the theme:

-Edgar Allan Poe , Dreams

Application For Leave

2007-05-23T08:40:00.001-07:00

I need a vacation
Need to unwind
Pack my suitcase
Get away from the grind.

My mind rebels
The body fails
Cut me some slack
Tension prevails.

Stop time from passing
And seasons from changing
Let me take a break
From being alive.

Cus life is a hard enough job to hold
I’m thinking I can’t handle it no more.
Book me a ticket
And allow me to soar.

Give me my paycheck
And a bonus too
So when I’m on holiday
I will not rue

All the years I spent
Working on Life
Gettin worn out
The stress, the strife.

Give me a holiday, please
I really need it
I don’t want to die,
but I don’t want life.

Paid or unpaid,
I don’t care no more
I need to get away
To very far away.

Find me a sub
Train him for the job
But let me get away
To another locale.

Give me a holiday
Let me turn tail
Two weeks will suffice
Exempt me from life.

I need a sabbatical
A very long trough
I need to get away from life
I’ve had it long enough.

Woman In White

2007-05-06T10:00:00.000-07:00

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That Day.

My favouriteST poet in the world. Lil anthology I found buried in Blossoms. Lil gems to be found nowhere on the net.

She was a pseudo-neurotic, apparently. A lil weird in the head. Think how well she would have fit in with us Law Schoolites.

Mine.

2007-04-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

From the glowing ball-
Fiery and frightening
Majestically looking over the world.

A daily journey-
Long and painstaking
Transforming the night into gold.

A single ray-
Intent and piercing
To spread that which we uphold.

The entire world-
Committed to lighting,
And, yet, dies when just a day old.

They have a name for this style (rhyme scheme - abc, dbc, ebc, fbc). I canNOT find what it is, for all the googling I did. Anyone in the know?

A Man Doesn't Have Time In His Life

2007-04-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything.

-Yehuda Amichai

I believe he was Israeli, got not time to wiki just now. But, try him. He be good.