Oh Lion in a peculiar guise, Sharp Roman road to Paradise, Come eat me up, I'll pay thy tollWith all my flesh, and keep my soul.
Stevie Smith
All poetry has to do is to make a strong communication. All the poet has to do is listen. The poet is not an important fellow. There will also be another poet.
poetry communication strong poet listen important
I may be smelly and I may be old, Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools, But where my fish float by I bless their swimming, And I like the people to bathe in me especially women.
women people fish swimming
Bad women poets are better characters, they seldom.. Get drunk.. Go to prison.. Shoot the pianist. Their faults are soul fullness and banality. They like to commune (who does not) with the deity, nature, and themselves, but their words do not quite carry the traffic.. Some bad men poets can persuade people.. That tricks and shocks are a substitute for talent.. Good poets of either sex are above these quarrels.
women talent prison faults people men nature soul characters good words poets bad sex drunk tricks deity traffic quarrels
I don't think Auden liked my poetry very much, he's very Anglican.
poetry
This Englishwoman is so refined, She has no bosom and no behind.
I'm sorry to say my dear wife is a dreamer,/ And as she dreams she gets paler and leaner./ Then be off to your Dream, with his fly-away hat,/ I'll stay with the girls who are happy and fat.
dreams girls dream happy dreamer wife fat
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning. I was much further out than you thought, and not waving but drowning. I was much too far out all my life, And not waving but drowning.
life man thought dead drowning
I wish I had something exciting to tell you, but if I won 40,000, my share would be 70 (thousand). That's about what I'm in the hole, so that would bring me back even.
share exciting
Not Waving but Drowning.
drowning
I'm alive today, therefore I'm just as much a part of our time as everybody else. The times will just have to enlarge themselves to make room for me, won't they, and for everybody else.
thetimes time today times alive part
paradise christianity soul road christians rome eat lion flesh roman martyrs lions christian
There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.
death thought fear rage thoughts moments night despair friend place call run white house god windows
But one wants the idea of Death, you know, as something large and unknowable, something that allows a person to stretch himself out. Especially one wants it if one is tired. Or perhaps what one wants is simply a release from sensation, from all consciousness for ever..
idea death person consciousness tired
Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow. Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.
death hands love bleeding
Prate not to me of suicide, Faint heart in battle, not for pride I say Endure, but that such end denied Makes welcomer yet the death that's to be died.
life death heart pride battle end suicide dying
Showing 1 to 15 of 45 results
You must log in to post a comment.
There are no comments yet.