Some poems for your reading pleasure. :)
Hi hi~ Not only am I hungover and feeling awful, I’ve decided that it was also the best time to injure myself so now I’m in a lot of pain and overall this Sunday isn’t going as planned. ;-;
But otherwise, here are some poems for this fine Sunday morning! I hope you’ll like them :)
1.
It is the sink of the afternoon
the children asleep or weary.
I have finished planting the tomatoes
in this brief sun after four days of rain
now there is brown earth under my fingernails
And sun full on my skin
with my head thick as honey
the tips of my fingers are stinging
from the rich earth
but more so from the lack of your body
I have been to this place before
where blood seething commanded
my fingers fresh from the earth
dream of plowing a furrow
whose name should be you.
— Audre Lorde, “Sowing”
2.
I love you
as if all hearts were a mirror of mine
as if life were invented for my love
I love you
O how much I deleted from your lips
built my heart into a road and a house
hung it as a cloud over clouds
and how I equated beauty with you and her fantasy sprout
and how and how
I love you
the light in your eyes has withdrawn
it has been flooded
our hair like drifts of snow poured on your shoulders
braided, tied or loose
I feel time has melted in my eyelids
solidified and tumbled
like silence.
— adonis
3.
In the morning, I’ll fly home.
It will be months and months until I am again
marked with your scent. I’d given up,
you know, resigned myself to the idea
of the idea of desire, the body — my body —
a locked door. Love, if that is your name,
I’m a practiced hand. I’m good at waiting.
And meanwhile, the sugar maples, miles of them,
flushed and damp between us.
— Cameron Awkward-Rich, from “Long Distance”
4.
sometimes we share a poem
because i’m washing the dishes
and you’re looking at your newsor sometimes we make a poem
because it’s Sunday and you want
ice cream while i want cookiesbut always we share a poem
because belief predates action
and i believe
the most beautiful poem
ever heard is your heart
racing— Nikki Giovanni, from “Poetry Is a Trestle,” in The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni: 1968–1998
5.
Even if we wanted to
we could not describe it,
the end of the second glass when I begin to
weep and you start to get sleepy — I love to
drink and weep with you and end up
sobbing to a sleeping man, your
long body filling the couch and
draped slightly over the ends, the
untrained soft singing of your snore, it cannot be given.
Yes we know we will make love but we’re
not getting ready to make love
nor are we getting over making love,
love is simply our element, it is the
humid summer night, we are in it.
— Sharon Olds, from “This Hour”
If you’ve noticed by the now, the theme is ‘love’ because I’m soft and yearning for someone always. I hope these bring a small smile on your face after reading them!
Happy Sunday! I love you!
Amulya.