Poetry Lounge

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Comment by Luna Arjuna on April 4, 2014 at 1:01am

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all.

― Emily Dickinson

Comment by Eva Libre on October 17, 2013 at 1:40pm

Wisdom is nothing but a preparation of the soul, a capacity, a secret art of thinking, feeling and breathing thoughts of unity at every moment of life.

- Herman Hesse

Art by Heather Watts

Comment by Tina Persson on August 26, 2013 at 8:21am

Love to you. Now: see a wite Angel statue looking out on a clear blue sky.

See the birds, the winged ones, knowing: Try to remember and hold on.

Comment by Nada Jung on August 25, 2013 at 9:45pm

Welcome Tina ...♥...

Comment by Tina Persson on August 25, 2013 at 10:35am

So beautiful, this sonnet. I have not been here for long time. 

Thank, you for sharing this, and reminding. 

Tina

Comment by Eva Libre on August 21, 2013 at 1:19am

 

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

 

Art by Sandra Bierman

Comment by Luna Arjuna on July 31, 2013 at 3:41pm

“Promise me....

“Promise me you will not spend so much time treading

water and trying to keep your head above the waves,

that you forget, truly forget . . . how much you have

always loved to swim.”

- Tyler Knott Gregson

Comment by Luna Arjuna on July 16, 2013 at 7:38am

In My Sky At Twilight

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud and your form and colour are the way I love them. You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet, the sour wine is sweeter on your lips, oh reaper of my evening song, how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love, and my nets of music are wide as the sky. My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning. In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

- Pablo Neruda

"Lovers of Vance"  (1957) -  Marc Chagall

Comment by Luna Arjuna on July 12, 2013 at 6:26am

“Build a House for men and birds.
Sit with them and play music.
For a day, for just one day,
talk about that which disturbs no one
and bring some peace,
my friend,
into your beautiful eyes.”

- Hafiz

"The Concourse of the Birds" -  by Habib Allah.

The hoopoe bird, center right, dictates to the other birds the way of the Sufi path.

Comment by Eva Libre on June 23, 2013 at 11:06pm

Stardust

Stardust is
the hardest thing
to hold out for.
You must
make of yourself
a perfect plane—
something still
upon which something settles—
something like
sugar grains on
something like
metal, but with
none of the chill.
It’s hard to explain.

— Kay Ryan
from The Niagara River

 

  Kay Ryan

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