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In the fairy tale the sky makes of itself...
...a coat because it needs you to put it on...
Created on 2005-04-27 11:19:20 (#6936025), last updated 2005-05-02
5 comments received, 31 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
3 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 1 Userpic
Basic Info| Name: | Josie Grey Ham, Superstar |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 11-14 |
| Location: | Scotland |
BioI like to yodel.
I am friendly, nice, kindhearted and eager to praise.
I am a uniter.
I love all poetry by all poets.
Every single poem in the world stuns me in some way.
This is one of my many incredible poems. Putting it here is my gift to you, my admiring fans.
Mind
The slow overture of rain,
each drop breaking
without breaking into
the next, describes
the unrelenting, syncopated
mind. Not unlike
the hummingbirds
imagining their wings
to be their heart, and swallows
believing the horizon
to be a line they lift
and drop. What is it
they cast for? The poplars,
advancing or retreating,
lose their stature
equally, and yet stand firm,
making arrangements
in order to become
imaginary. The city
draws the mind in streets,
and streets compel it
from their intersections
where a little
belongs to no one. It is
what is driven through
all stationary portions
of the world, gravity's
stake in things, the leaves,
pressed against the dank
window of November
soil, remain unwelcome
till transformed, parts
of a puzzle unsolvable
till the edges give a bit
and soften. See how
then the picture becomes clear,
the mind entering the ground
more easily in pieces,
and all the richer for it.
J.G.
I am friendly, nice, kindhearted and eager to praise.
I am a uniter.
I love all poetry by all poets.
Every single poem in the world stuns me in some way.
This is one of my many incredible poems. Putting it here is my gift to you, my admiring fans.
Mind
The slow overture of rain,
each drop breaking
without breaking into
the next, describes
the unrelenting, syncopated
mind. Not unlike
the hummingbirds
imagining their wings
to be their heart, and swallows
believing the horizon
to be a line they lift
and drop. What is it
they cast for? The poplars,
advancing or retreating,
lose their stature
equally, and yet stand firm,
making arrangements
in order to become
imaginary. The city
draws the mind in streets,
and streets compel it
from their intersections
where a little
belongs to no one. It is
what is driven through
all stationary portions
of the world, gravity's
stake in things, the leaves,
pressed against the dank
window of November
soil, remain unwelcome
till transformed, parts
of a puzzle unsolvable
till the edges give a bit
and soften. See how
then the picture becomes clear,
the mind entering the ground
more easily in pieces,
and all the richer for it.
J.G.
ConnectInterests (8):
being friendly, being nice, coats, praising people (especially poets), uniting people, writing blurbs, writing poetryyyyyyy, yodelling
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_emilydickinson, _virginia_woolf, anne_bradstreet, chad_horvath, darkdevotchka, deaddoloreshaze, dylan__thomas, emopoetgalore, freakin_sweet, george_wbush_, john_berryman, just_breathe149, killer_llamas, luckylove, lytton_strachey, mark_gertler, mary_mitford, mspeel4077, opheliablue, quinnthevixen, robert_lowell, robertservice, t_s_eliot_, treasure_trolls
Mutual Friends (19):
_emilydickinson, _virginia_woolf, darkdevotchka, deaddoloreshaze, dylan__thomas, emopoetgalore, john_berryman, killer_llamas, luckylove, lytton_strachey, mark_gertler, mary_mitford, mspeel4077, opheliablue, quinnthevixen, robert_lowell, robertservice, t_s_eliot_, treasure_trolls
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