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For prosperity: A Poem With No Ending
I am beginning
once more to rise into the shape
of someone I can be
-Philip Levine
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and being healthy, why give sickness a moment’s thought?
I failed big time on the poem thing, but here is one I came across while clearing out some podcasts.
The man from Chios called Homer said a beautiful thing
A poem by Semonides of Amorgos
trans. by Edmund Keeley
The man from Chios called Homer said a beautiful thing:
“The generations of men are like the leaves of a tree.”
Few mortals who’ve heard this take it to heart:
all men carry the hope rooted in their youth.
While mortals are still living in youth’s lovely flowering,
light-headed, their hearts cling to many vain things:
they won’t grow old, they’ll never die,
and being healthy, why give sickness a moment’s thought?
Fools to think that way, they don’t yet know
how quickly time moves for mortals, how short the young days.
But since you know this now that your end is near,
treat yourself entirely to what good things there are.
The man from Chios called Homer said a beautiful thing
A poem by Semonides of Amorgos
trans. by Edmund Keeley
The man from Chios called Homer said a beautiful thing:
“The generations of men are like the leaves of a tree.”
Few mortals who’ve heard this take it to heart:
all men carry the hope rooted in their youth.
While mortals are still living in youth’s lovely flowering,
light-headed, their hearts cling to many vain things:
they won’t grow old, they’ll never die,
and being healthy, why give sickness a moment’s thought?
Fools to think that way, they don’t yet know
how quickly time moves for mortals, how short the young days.
But since you know this now that your end is near,
treat yourself entirely to what good things there are.
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Come. And be my baby.
The highway is full of big fast cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that'll burn
Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you're going to turn.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we've got a week or two
The paper is full of evey kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
what you're gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
-Maya Angelou
so it's national poetry month here and I figured I'd post some of my favorites during the month.
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that'll burn
Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you're going to turn.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we've got a week or two
The paper is full of evey kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
what you're gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
-Maya Angelou
so it's national poetry month here and I figured I'd post some of my favorites during the month.
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somewhere this matters
It was National Poetry Day somewhere according to twitter. So, I'm taking an opportunity to post one of my favorites.
( the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised )