shayarisms4lovers June18 289 - Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Of Poems

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Of Poems

Introduction To Poetry by Billy Collins I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem and watch him probe his way out, or walk inside the poem’s room and feel the walls for a light switch. I want them to waterski across the surface of a poem waving at the author’s name on the shore. But all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it. They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means. Poetry by Pablo Neruda And it was at that age … Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know […]

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shayarisms4lovers June18 276 - Poets United Midweek Motif ~ When I Think About Myself

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ When I Think About Myself

“This above all; to thine own self be true.”— Shakespeare “I am very much aware of my own double self. The well-known one is very under control; everything is planned and very secure. The unknown one can be very unpleasant. I think this side is responsible for all the creative work — he is in touch with the child. He is not rational; he is impulsive and extremely emotional.”—Ingmar Bergman Midweek Motif ~ When I think About Myself Let’s begin today with Maya Angelou’s poem When I Think About Myself: When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big joke, A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke, I laugh so hard I almost choke When I think about myself. Sixty years in these folks’ world The child I works for calls me girl I say ‘Yes ma’am’ for working’s sake. Too proud to bend Too poor to break, I laugh until my stomach ache, When I think about myself. My folks can make me split my side, I laughed so hard I nearly died, The tales they tell, sound just like lying, They grow the fruit, But eat the rind, […]

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