Poetry Page

Monet painting of a woman in a white dress holding a green umbrella. Her son is also wearing white and is standing some ways away in the background.

"Woman with a Parasol-Madame Monet and Her Son" 1875. Claude Monet.

Decided to make a seperate page for poetry I find around the web! These poems have personal meaning to me that I will be attaching in a future update. But for now, here they are in their original form!

Here's the way back to my Home Page

A group of onlookers watch a presentation by a philosopher.

"A Philosopher Giving a Lecture on the Orrey" 1768. William Pether after Joseph Wright.

The Sciences Sing a Lullabye by Albert Goldbarth

Physics says: go to sleep. Of course

you're tired. Every atom in you

has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes

nonstop from mitosis to now.

Quit tapping your feet. They'll dance

inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.

Geology says: it will be all right. Slow inch

by inch America is giving itself

to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness

lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.

You aren't alone. All of the continents used to be

one body. You aren't alone. Go to sleep.

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow,

Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle,

Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so

Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town

and

History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.

A pencil sketch of a woman in white clinging onto her unconcious lover. A physical representation of Death himself lingers in the background and embraces them both.

"Love Consecrated" 1900. Albert Besnard.

XVII (I do not love you...) — Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.