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Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Words from Heaven

This poem is by a woman named Maria aka Dobro whom I never knew in life. She recently passed away. She endured bipolar disorder and schizoaffective disorder. She spoke from the heart and it is apparent to me that she had a beautiful soul. Her work may not deserve to be in my garden of horrors because it is too beautiful, but I want it here.

Friday, July 27, 2007
Prince Alfred
While your'e there eating your Big Mac
Sipping your Coke and munching on cookies
We'll come alongside to relieve the pain
Of the loneliness that comes from being
Different
Disabled
Broken

Strength and nobility arise from your soul.
Laughter is a part of your everyday.
The will to live has not been damaged
Although your body has
Shine on
Alfred
Shine on

Read more by Maria here

Monday, August 27, 2007

The Garden by HP Lovecraft

HPL is one of my greatest literary influences. He is less well known for his poems. I find both his poetry and prose amazing. Here is one of my favorites.


The Garden
by H. P. Lovecraft


There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,
Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;
Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,
And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.
There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,
And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:
In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,
Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.
There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,
And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.
As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find
When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;
I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,
As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.
Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -
For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart.

N

Check out this Lovecraft fan's collection of HPL's works