poet

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ALFRED TENNYSON ~ MEMORIES

“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.” ― Alfred Tennyson Memories John White Alexander – circa 1903

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SYLVIA PLATH ~ HOW IMPORTANT AM I ?

“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” Sylvia Plath

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HOPE AND MEMORY

“Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.” ― W.B. Yeats Hope and memory Kenyon Cox – 1900

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TOLKIEN ~ REMEMBERING PAST SEASONS

I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen Of meadow flowers and butterflies In summers that have been Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be When winter comes without a spring That I shall ever see For still there are so many things That I have never seen In every wood in every spring There is a...

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E.E. CUMMINGS ~ YOU ARE…

“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” ― E.E. Cummings Christian Rohlfs, Dancing around the Ball of the Sun, 1916

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RAINER MARIA RILKE ~ EVENING

Evening Slowly the evening puts on the garments held for it by a rim of ancient trees; you watch: and the lands divide from you, one going heavenward, one that falls; and leave you, to neither quite belonging, not quite so dark as the house sunk in silence, not quite so surely pledging the eternal as that which grows star each night and climbs- and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle) your life afraid and huge and ripening, so that it, now bound in and now embracing, grows alternately stone...

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ANNA AKHMATOVA ~ WAKING DREAMS

Forgive me, that I manage badly, Manage badly but live gloriously, That I leave traces of myself in my songs, That I appeared to you in waking dreams.” ― Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems Anna Akhmatova. Slepnevo.1914

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ANNA AKHMATOVA ~ IN THE EVENING

IN THE EVENING  BY ANNA AKHMATOVA The garden rang with music Of inexpressible despair. A dish of oysters spread on ice Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp. He told me: “I’m a faithful friend!”- And lightly touched my dress. How different from embraces The touch of those two hands. That’s how one strokes a cat or bird Or looks at slender lady riders… Just laughter in his quiet eyes, Beneath his light gold lashes. And the despondent voices of the violins Sing out beyond the hanging smoke: “Give...

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CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ~ ON LIFE AND POETS

“The beautiful is always bizarre.” ― Charles Baudelaire “An artist is a kaleidoscope endowed with consciousness…an ego athirst for the non-ego, and reflecting it at every moment in energies more vivid than life itself, always inconstant and fleeting. The poet is like those wandering souls who go looking for a body, he enters as he likes into each man’s personality. For him alone everything is vacant…The man who loves to lose himself in a crowd enjoys feverish delights that the egoist locked up in himself as in a box, and...

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WITH THE RAIN (A REQUIEM) ~ POEM BY WILLIAM (CHILI) GONZALEZ

Let me sleep Leave me be Let my eyes close Leave my soul to fade away, forever more Let me rest in peace Leave my blood to freeze Let me travel to the unknown Leave the body; it’s just flesh and bone Let my spirit wander in darkness Leave memories of past in fondness Burn this coffin, for I am not there This burden is not for you to bear Do not lament or shed tears When serenity comes, I will be near When you are lonely in silence...

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