squirrella: (Default)
I figured I ought to give the poems a rest after my daily postings during February.

Here's one that was a favorite during my time at SJU and something that I recited in my head while spinning up the FOTM from Miss Boogie (that's her shot--mine's still waiting to be plied).

I Wondered Lonely As A Cloud, William Wordsworth

I wondered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils ;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in the never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay :
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced ; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee :
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company :
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought :
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude ;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
squirrella: (1974)
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
"I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love, thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

Sonnets from the Portuguese, XIV, Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Amo

Feb. 13th, 2007 10:24 am
squirrella: (Gilbert and Anne=TruLuv)
Iucundum, mea vita, mihi proponis amorem
hunc nostrum inter nos perpetuumque fore.
di magni, facite ut vere promittere possit,
atque id sincere dicat et ex animo,
ut liceat nobis tota perducere vita
aeternum hoc sanctae foedus amicitiae.

Carmen 109, Gaius Valerius Catullus

translation:
You, my life, promise that this love
of ours between us shall be agreeable and last forever.
Great gods, arrange for her to speak the truth,
and to say this sincere and from the bottom of her heart,
so that it is granted us to continue all our life
this treaty of inviolable friendship.
squirrella: (reading)
There are so many beautiful, poignant, profound, and humorous love poems that I can't pick just one. Therefore, I'm posting one every day this week.

On the first day of VD )
squirrella: (Default)
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards all torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor --

Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin, in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now --
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still cimbin'
And Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Mother to Son, Langston Hughes
squirrella: (Gilbert and Anne=TruLuv)
Since I've been taking the bus in this week, I've had a lot of time to be lost in my head. One of the things I think about the most is how lucky we are today. I mean, seriously--Mike was laid off just over a year ago, he didn't find work until May, and even though we had that run of bad luck, bike and motorcycle accidents, and you all know what else, well, we still managed. And we managed well.

I remember writing about him being laid off: while I was stunned, blindsided, and spiraling to a panic, he was happy, relaxed, and willing. It really was the best thing for him, at the time. By extension, it was the best thing for me. It's not as though it was all roses and chocolate during that time, but it let me learn once again that we really are that strong as a couple.

I've also had some time to reflect on our relationship in toto, timely since we just passed our 13-years-as-a-couple mark in the last week. I could look at a calendar and tell you the exact dates, but we first spoke on a Friday. He called on a Sunday. And that was it. Truer love never there was.

Weekly dose of poetry, then... )
squirrella: (sp)
[livejournal.com profile] phillyexpat posted a meme (here) that got me thinking about my favorite poem...

To My Dear and Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

--Anne Bradstreet

For those of you that aren't recovering English/literature majors, allow me to give you a little background here. Anne Bradstreet has long been considered not only the first published American author, but also the first female American author. Born in England, Bradstreet enjoyed a cultured and educated life, not typical for females at the time. When she and her husband moved to the New World, Bradstreet found herself faced with a lot of contemplative time. This is evident in a number of her poems, including one of my other favorites, Upon the Burning of Our House, July 10th, 1666.

Admittedly, the bulk of my studies during undergrad focused on medieval literature and Irish and British modern literature. When I taught high school (briefly), I taught American literature, and I HATED it. So why would a Colonial author rate so high for me? I can't immediately say... Is the personal tone of the poem? Is it that these words persist, even nearly four centuries later? Is it because Bradstreet seems to have balanced reverence and independence without being shunned?

Maybe I'll take a cue from [livejournal.com profile] crowyhead and start up a poetry filter of some sort.

Thanks, [livejournal.com profile] phillyexpat--you reminded me, with your mention of both ee cummings' i carry your heart with me, and Eliot's Prufrock how much I love poetry!

Now, I'm ready to dust off my old copy of Leaves of Grass...

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