Quotes about locket, page 9
The Painting Finished
for Sally
The painting finished, I sit at my desk
and go on painting windows and computer screens.
My body is grateful and my heart a submarine.
I don't know if I expressed what I meant to mean
but there it is and that's an end of it for the night.
Time now to rely on my resident metaphors.
Stop looking at things that flower in space like stars
and coercing the light into compliance.
Sit in my apartment and watch the weave of the rain
unravelling the loom of the window in tears.
Feel like a seance trying to talk to an exorcism
when I address myself in my solitude
at cruising altitude over the sirens and car horns,
the wailing of long distance freight trains
like graffiti art shows on the road all the way
from North Carolina, the land of talented spray bombs,
and the gleeful shrieking of a gaggle of girls
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I Don't Want To Have My Eyes Glazed Over Nacreously
I don't want to have my eyes glazed over nacreously
if I were a grain of sand, a diamond in the rough,
living in a pearly world. Cataracts in the eye,
flowers in the sky. I don't want to live in a spiritual trance
blissed out like the first crescent of the moon
smiling down upon everything as if I weren't
attached to any particular atmosphere and all
the waters of life were frozen like tears in a jewelled locket
I kiss once in awhile in a rush of gushing devotion.
I love the mystic details of the concrete specifics of the world.
The stylus of the birds that can write with their beaks and feet
like cuneiform on the skin of an apple,
and wormholes that burrow even deeper
into the sweetness of the flesh, neolithic barrow tombs
aligned with the vernal equinox, and that soft blue talc
as if the dew had turned to powder that clings to the autumn grapes.
I like the spelling errors fate makes
on the staves of our foreheads where it writes
the picture-music of our destinies in such a way
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Making Peace With My Father
You could be dead by now.
How would I know?
Last time I saw you
was fifty-five years ago.
My first day of school.
Your last with us.
You’re the little man now, Paddy,
you said
then got on a greyhound bus
in front of Tang’s Pagoda
as I watched the door close
on that fuselage without wings
as if the whale had just swallowed Jonah whole.
The last time I noticed we had the same eyes.
The end of your reign of terror.
As I remember you fifty-five years later
you were brutal, violent, cruel,
a con-man and a drunk.
You hurt people then laughed at their pain.
You were the lethal meltdown of a radioactive brain
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Swings Its Bell
Autumn swings its bell like an eyelid over my heart
and in the penumbral umbrellas that bloom
in a garden of eclipses and sundials,
I discuss you with an enlightened ghost
and an ignorant shadow
that have learned to see star to star
in this echoless abyss of silence and solitude.
Within, where the winds scrawl
their spray bombs on the wall,
delighted with their literary delinquency,
I realize what's beginning to look like
the mouthless howl of an ancient agony,
the collapsed bridge
of that which was separated
from the moon's reflection,
an ache deep in the ores of the earth
before it learned to speak of trees and rivers,
before its longing invested the dead branch
with a fugue of nightbirds
trying to write themselves like a dream
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Student's Tale; The Cobbler of Hagenau
I trust that somewhere and somehow
You all have heard of Hagenau,
A quiet, quaint, and ancient town
Among the green Alsatian hills,
A place of valleys, streams, and mills,
Where Barbarossa's castle, brown
With rust of centuries, still looks down
On the broad, drowsy land below,--
On shadowy forests filled with game,
And the blue river winding slow
Through meadows, where the hedges grow
That give this little town its name.
It happened in the good old times,
While yet the Master-singers filled
The noisy workshop and the guild
With various melodies and rhymes,
That here in Hagenau there dwelt
A cobbler,--one who loved debate,
And, arguing from a postulate,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The heart is a locket that does not open easily.
Duala proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Arienette
The fragile keep secrets
Gathered in pockets
And they will sell them for nothing
A cheap watch or locket
That kind of gold washes off
And the sad act like lepers
They stick to the shadows
They long to ring bells of warning
To tell of their coming
So that the pure can shut their doors
The angry are animals Senseless and savage
They act without order
In logical lapses
They stain their mouths with blood
So take my hand
This barren land is alive tonight
Oh
song performed by Bright Eyes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Rosewood Casket
Theres a little rosewood casket
Resting on a marble stand
With a packet of old love letters
Written by my true loves hand
Go and bring them to me, sister
Read them oer for me tonight
I have often tried by could not
For the tears that filled my eyes
When Im dead and in my casket
When I gently fall asleep
Fall asleep to wake in heaven
Dearest sister do not weep
Take his letters and his locket
Place them gently on my heart
But this golden ring that he gave me
From my finger never part
Repeat chorus
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No Ray Of The Star
No ray of the star in the lead,
none following, no one vector of light,
the compass needle for all the rest.
Eye to eye, side by side,
like the spikes of an onion gone to seed,
companionship and parity,
even after billions of light years,
every one's still shining among their peers.
Even your best efforts
to make it all into one when it already is,
are in musical harmony
like dissonance in jazz
with every wavelength of heart and mind
in a great creative collaboration
with every thread on the loom of a flying carpet
as big as the universe, growing
into the vast expanse of the chaos
it's spinning itself out of like the three fates,
the daughters of night with their thread and shears
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Child, It's Okay To Break
Child, it's okay to break.
Go ask the trees.
They've been through a few ice storms themselves.
And, yes, sometimes the lightning
mistakes your unicorn for a lightning rod
and strikes it like a drone out of the blue
when no one's home but you on a Friday night
because you're ashamed to go out
for fear of people seeing what your boyfriend did
when he came down on you like the Leonids.
And I've seen how you've tried
to craft tiaras out of broken chandeliers,
how you've sat late into
the darkest hours of the night
alone at the kitchen table
trying to pick up the pieces
and try to put them back together again
like a jigsaw of your battered reflection
in a shattered mirror that cracked
more like a fortune-cookie than a koan.
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!