#poet

...the wind has a purpose - to rattle the window panes, disturb the cat and make me miss you ... ↗

— John Geddes

#missing-you #poetry-quote #purpose #the-wind #love

This week in live current events: your eyes. All power can be dangerous: Direct or alternating, you, socket to me. Plugged in and the grid is humming, this electricity, molecule-deep desire: particular friction, a charge strong enough to stop a heart or start it again; volt, re-volt-- I shudder, I stutter, I start to life. I've got my ion you, copper-top, so watch how you conduct yourself. Here's today's newsflash: a battery of rolling blackouts in California, sudden, like lightning kisses: sudden, whitehot darkness and you're here, fumbling for that small switch with an urgent surge strong enough to kill lesser machines. Static makes hair raise, makes things cling, makes things rise like a gathering storm charging outside our darkened house and here I am: tempest, pouring out mouthfulls of tsunami on the ground, I've got that rain-soaked kite, that drenched key. You know what it's for, circuit-breaker, you know how to kiss until it's hertz. ↗

— Daphne Gottlieb

#poetry #life

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía, tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño. ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#poetry #love

From love's plectrum arises the song of the string of life Love is the light of life love is the fire of life ↗

— Allama Muhammad Iqbal

#light #love #poetry #life

En qué lugar, en dónde, a qué deshoras me dirás que te amo? Esto es urgente porque la eternidad se nos acaba. ↗

— Jaime Sabines

#love

Father, R.I.P., Sums Me Up at Twenty-Three She has no head for politics, craves good jewelry, trusts too readily, marries too early. Then one by one she sends away her friends and stands apart, smug sapphire, her answer to everything a slender zero, a silent shrug--and every day still hears me say she'll never be pretty. Instead she reads novels, instead her belt matches her shoes. She is master of the condolence letter, and knows how to please a man with her mouth: Good. Nose too large, eyes too closely set, hair not glorious blonde, not her mother's red, nor the glossy black her younger sister has, the little raven I loved best. ↗

— Deborah Garrison

#love

soles occidere et redire possunt: nobis cum semel occidit breuis lux, nox est perpetua una dormienda. ↗

— Catullus

#roman #love

There is no hope for the hopeless but there is always some love for the loveless. ↗

— Santosh Kalwar

#love #poetry #romance #love

We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and our love for each other was seen. Our love for the world was new. ↗

— Roman Payne

#desire #green-eyes #lamb #making-love #malta

Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night. ↗

— Mark Strand

#nostalgia #poetry #regret #imagination