and yet this doesn't make me sad

no help for that / Charles Bukowski

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
a space
and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest
times
we will know it
we will know it
more than
ever
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and
we will wait
and
wait
in that
space.
~ You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense, 1986

LOVE POEMS

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/jul/02/fifty-greatest-love-poems-30-different-countries

The list of the 50 greatest love poems of the last 50 years in full:
Michael Donaghy (USA) – The Present
Naomi Shibab Nye (Palestine) – Shoulders
Philippe Jaccottet (France) – Distances
Tadeusz Rozewicz (Poland) A Sketch for a Modern Love Poem
Billy Collins (USA) Night Club
Nazim Hikmett (Turkey) Things I didn't know I loved
Margaret Atwood (Canada) Variations on the Word Love
Mutsuo Takahashi (Japan) Dove
Anna Swir (Poland) Thank-you, My Fate
Lawrence Bradby (England) - If Your Faith in Me Should Fail
Mary Oliver (USA) – Wild Geese
Anat Zecharaya (Israel) –A Woman of Valour (Trans Hebrew)
Karlis Verdins (Latvia) – Come to Me (Trans Latvian)
Doina Ioanid (Romania)The Yellow Dog (Trans Romanian)
Ana Ristovic (Serbia)– Circling Zero – (Trans Serbian)
Katharine Kilalea (South Africa)You were a bird
Ted Hughes (England) Lovesong
Kim Addonizio (USA) – You Don't Know What Love Is
Kim Hyesoon (Korea) – A Hole (Trans from Korean)
Choman Hardi (Iraqi Kurdistan) Summer Roof
Carolyn Kizer (USA) Bitch
Nina Cassian (Romania) Lady of Miracles
Ashjan Al Hendi (Saudi Arabia) In search of the Other
Don Paterson (Scotland) My Love
Edwin Morgan (Scotland) – Strawberries
Chinua Achebe (Nigeria) Love Song (for Anna)
Muriel Rukeyser (USA) Looking at Each Other
Linton Kwesi Johnson (England/Jamaica) Hurricane Blues
Tracy K Smith (USA) Duende
Warsan Shire (England/Somalia) for women who are difficult to love
Frank O'Hara (USA) – Having a Coke With You
Adrian Mitchell (England) Celia Celia
Jackie Kay (Scotland) – Her
Maya Angelou (USA) – Come. And Be My Baby
Kutti Revathi – (India) Breasts
Sujata Bhatt (India) – Love in a Bathtub
Annabelle Despard (Norway) Should You Die First
Alice Oswald (England) – Wedding
Valzhyna Mort (Belarus) Love
Nikola Madzirov (Macedonia) - When Someone Goes Away Everything That's Been Done Comes Back
Iman Mersal (Egypt) – Love
Sinead Morrissey (Ireland) Forgive Us Our Trespasses
Kei Miller (Jamaica) Epilogue
Faiz Ahmed Faiz (Pakistan) Before You Came
WS Merwin (USA) In Time
Arundathi Subramaniam (India) Prayer
Yves Bonnefoy (France) A stone
Ko Un (South Korea) Snowfall
Amjad Nasser (Jordan) A Song and Three Questions
Vikram Seth (India) All You who Sleep Tonight

On a summer morning

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God -

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope

it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

—Song of the Builders by Mary Oliver

well ain't that the damn truth.

Neruda: "Love is so short, forgetting is so long."

Audrey Hepburn's favorite poem

Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same
Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

by Rabindranath Tagore

happiness heard your name

brave true things to say

The Hill by Rupert Brooke 1887 - 1915

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
You said, "Though glory and ecstasy we pass;
Wind, sun and earth remain, the birds sing still,
When we are old, are old...." And when we die
All's over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips," said I,
-- "Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won."

"We are earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.
Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;
"We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!" ... Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
-- And then suddenly you cried, and turned away.

so be careful when you bend over.

The Shoelace

a woman, a
tire that’s flat, a
disease, a
desire: fears in front of you,
fears that hold so still
you can study them
like pieces on a
chessboard…
it’s not the large things that
send a man to the
madhouse. death he’s ready for, or
murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood…
no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies
that send a man to the
madhouse…
not the death of his love
but a shoelace that snaps
with no time left …
The dread of life
is that swarm of trivialities
that can kill quicker than cancer
and which are always there -
license plates or taxes
or expired driver’s license,
or hiring or firing,
doing it or having it done to you, or
roaches or flies or a
broken hook on a
screen, or out of gas
or too much gas,
the sink’s stopped-up, the landlord’s drunk,
the president doesn’t care and the governor’s
crazy.
light switch broken, mattress like a
porcupine;
$105 for a tune-up, carburetor and fuel pump at
sears roebuck;
and the phone bill’s up and the market’s
down
and the toilet chain is
broken,
and the light has burned out -
the hall light, the front light, the back light,
the inner light; it’s
darker than hell
and twice as
expensive.
then there’s always crabs and ingrown toenails
and people who insist they’re
your friends;
there’s always that and worse;
leaky faucet, christ and christmas;
blue salami, 9 day rains,
50 cent avocados
and purple
liverwurst.

or making it
as a waitress at norm’s on the split shift,
or as an emptier of
bedpans,
or as a carwash or a busboy
or a stealer of old lady’s purses
leaving them screaming on the sidewalks
with broken arms at the age of 80.

suddenly
2 red lights in your rear view mirror
and blood in your
underwear;
toothache, and $979 for a bridge
$300 for a gold
tooth,
and china and russia and america, and
long hair and short hair and no
hair, and beards and no
faces, and plenty of zigzag but no
pot, except maybe one to piss in
and the other one around your
gut.

with each broken shoelace
out of one hundred broken shoelaces,
one man, one woman, one
thing
enters a
madhouse.

so be careful
when you
bend over.

Charles Bukowski

Desiderata

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."

- Max Ehrmann, "Desiderata"

 

Daffodils

 

Daffodils

 William Wordsworth (1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

your hairline now so untrustworthy

You Are the Penultimate Love of My Life
BY REBECCA HAZELTON


I want to spend a lot but not all of my years with you.
We’ll talk about kids
                              but make plans to travel.
I will remember your eyes
                              as green when they were gray.
Our dogs will be named For Now and Mostly.
               Sex will be good but next door’s will sound better.

There will be small things.
I will pick up your damp towel from the bed,
                                                            and then I won’t.
I won’t be as hot as I was
                              when I wasn’t yours
and your hairline now so
               untrustworthy.
When we pull up alongside a cattle car
                              and hear the frightened lows,
                              I will silently judge you
                              for not immediately renouncing meat.
You will bring me wine
                              and notice how much I drink.

                                              The garden you plant and I plant
                              is tunneled through by voles,
                                                             the vowels
                                                             we speak aren’t vows,
               but there’s something
                              holding me here, for now,
               like your eyes, which I suppose
                                                             are brown, after all.




Rebecca Hazelton, “You Are the Penultimate Love of My Life” from Vow. Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Hazelton. Reprinted by permission of Cleveland State University Press Poetry Center.

Source: Vow (Cleveland State University Press Poetry Center, 2013)

As ordi­nary things often do

The Orange
By Wendy Cope


At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quar­ters and I had a half.
And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordi­nary things often do
Just lately. The shop­ping. A walk in the park
This is peace and con­tent­ment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.

And your very flesh shall be a great poem

IHOP

I went to a show of one my favorite bands. They are from the area where I grew up. They sneak in geographical name places that only someone from there would know ... that is why i like them. their lyrics are all about nostalgia, memories, smells and images they hold close to their past. it's like they are trying to document memories that no one else knows about, but by putting them in a song, they take on a new life and recycle themselves into a song that is now in everyone else's brain - set to live on forever, or until someone doesn't hear that song anymore. clever.

At the show i met two people who were there for the music as well. At first when i sat at the bar top i felt rather lonely. But then i started talking to a fellow lone bar top sitter and everything was ok.

The show was AMAZING. the band came off the stage for the last bit of the show and did it acoustic. and of course i was in front! lyrics and harmony get me every time.

After the show we were all a tad drunk. And hungry. So we went to IHOP. We all ordered the pancake combo. I got strawberry pancakes and sausage links and scrambled eggs. We proclaimed we were the Breakfast Club.

I woke up the next day and we got a Snow day.

That was been the best Monday ever.

The Changed Man

The Changed Man" by Robert Phillips, from Spinach Days. © The Johns Hopkins University Press. 

The Changed Man 

If you were to hear me imitating Pavarotti
in the shower every morning, you'd know
how much you have changed my life.

If you were to see me stride across the park,
waving to strangers, then you would know
I am a changed man—like Scrooge

awakened from his bad dreams feeling feather-
light, angel-happy, laughing the father
of a long line of bright laughs—

"It is still not too late to change my life!"
It is changed. Me, who felt short-changed.
Because of you I no longer hate my body.

Because of you I buy new clothes.
Because of you I'm a warrior of joy.
Because of you and me. Drop by

this Saturday morning and discover me
fiercely pulling weeds gladly, dedicated
as a born-again gardener.

Drop by on Sunday—I'll Turtlewax
your sky-blue sports car, no sweat. I'll greet 
enemies with a handshake, forgive debtors

with a papal largesse. It's all because 
of you. Because of you and me,
I've become one changed man.

In Time of Daffodils

 

 in time of daffodils
by E. E. Cummings


in time of daffodils (who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why, remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so (forgetting seem)
in time of roses (who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if, remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek (forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me, remember me

i want to shampoo you

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be
Oh I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me

I want to be strong I want to laugh along
I want to belong to the living 
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some juke box dive
Do you want - do you want - do you want to dance with me baby
Do you want to take a chance
On maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby
Well, come on

All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you too
All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you
I want to talk to you, I want to shampoo you
I want to renew you again and again
Applause, applause - Life is our cause
When I think of your kisses my mind see-saws
Do you see - do you see - do you see how you hurt me baby
So I hurt you too
Then we both get so blue.

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Looking for the key to set me free
Oh the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling
It's the unraveling
And it undoes all the joy that could be
I want to have fun, I want to shine like the sun
I want to be the one that you want to see
I want to knit you a sweater
Want to write you a love letter
I want to make you feel better
I want to make you feel free
I want to make you feel free


© 1970; Joni Mitchell 

Being Your Own Best Friend

“When a woman becomes her own best friend life is easier.”
― Diane Von Furstenberg

“The most important relationship in your life is the relationship you have with yourself. Because no matter what happens, you will always be with yourself.”
― Diane Von Furstenberg

We are far too hard on ourselves. And not only the own voices inside our head, but the media that implants little nasty ones as well.

I've realized this week i need to remember to be kinder to myself. If I said the the things i say to myself to a friend, that friend would probably think i was a big B-I-T-C-H.

It was my first time back at yoga since my bike accident tonight. My left side is bothersome, but I can finally do downward dog and arm stands again. Or so i thought. I couldn't even get up to the wall!

And from that discouragement I spiraled into thinking everything about me was horrible. i think i may have shed a tear during Savasana.

But after the class, the teacher came up to me and said it was nice to meet me. i told her i hadn't been in since the accident and that i couldn't do any of the moves-

and she interrupted me right there and said, "no, no. Stop right now, that does not matter. it's not about the moves." and then she had a big smile on her face and i felt a little better.

my room is messy sometimes. and sometimes i don't forget about men as fast as i'd like to. i let them linger like favorite songs and poems. sometimes i stay on pinterest for a whole hour or leave all my clothes on the floor after i wash them, instead of folding them in neat piles. and sometimes i eat mac n cheese for dinner that's not organic.

but i need to remember to just forget about all that shit cause i need to be nicer to myself and see all the good things and encourage them and not dwell on when i fall short.

i'm actually pretty good at being alone and surviving that way. i've never lived w/ a man who was my lover and i no longer live with parents. so in that sense i feel confident. but loving the person i am with alone is a whole different thing i always need more work on. why is it so easy to listen to the bad shit?

i am reminded of the wise words of the poet-prophet, singer-writer, the myth, the legend, Leonard Cohen:

My girl, Frida.

You're gonna make it after all.

I finished a project management seminar my company sent me to for two days today. It was at a hotel in downtown DC so i got to pretend I was Mary Tyler Moore in the morning business crowds. No hat to toss though. Can't stand the hat hair. I settled on wearing tights and a skirt from Banana Republic.



I learned a whole lot. I was reminded of the Work Breakdown System (WBS) I studied for a semester in my masters program. The seminar leader said many good sentences that related not only to project management but also real life. One that resonated with me was:

"I cannot reach perfection but I can reach excellence," shown bright on his power point.

He also said procrastinators tend to be perfectionists.

Obviously, he was talking about me. I had no idea it was common knowledge that both traits typically resided as a pair, but now, suddenly, everything makes a whole lot more sense.

Besides my basic personality trapping me into a nasty perfectionism habit, I believe growing up as an American Woman is a big part to deal with it as well.

I feel as an American we emphasize competition, being the best, being "special", standing higher than the "average" crowd.  There has always been a pressure to be "the best" - and sometimes one can equate this need to be the best with being "perfect."

Besides this American ideal of being an independent, self reliant being at all times, throw the WOMAN factor in there:

As a woman in America there is a tremendous pressure to be all the things everyone in your life needs you to be. You must be the "perfect" mother, daughter, sister, lover, employee, artist, mother goddess, yogi....the list can go on as long as you think it can.

The media perpetuates these two beliefs through ads.  I found a recent article in the Atlantic to be really disturbing regarding how advertisers try to market to women when they "feel their most ugly." This graphic below is from that article.




SO THAT'S PRETTY MESSED UP.

The fact that the media is targeting women, and trying to feed off our already deflated esteem is pretty sick.

We must strive for excellence - not perfection - in order to stop these daily assaults our self-worth experiences.

I'm going to add this idea to my daily practice. Instead of perfection, I'm going to seek excellence. I'd rather chase after something I know I may eventually be able to catch.

It reminds me again of one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.