Poetry "If I read a book and it makes my body
so cold no fire ever can warm me, then I know that is poetry." ....-Emily Dickinson.

Shel Silverstein's
Forgotten Language
.. Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.
Once I answered all the questions of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each dying flake of snow.
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Margaret Atwood's
Siren Song
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: 
the song that is irresistible

the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the beached skulls

the song that nobody knows
because anyone who has heard it
is dead and the others can't remember.

Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?

I don't enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs.
I don't enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer.  This song

is a cry for help:  Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique

at last.  Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.

Langston Hughes's
Homecoming
... I went back in the alley
And I opened up my door.
All her clothes was gone:
She wasn't home no more.
.. I pulled back the covers,
I made down the bed.
A whole lot of room
Was the only thing I had.

Langston Hughes's
Hope
Sometimes when I'm lonely,
Don't know why,
Keep thinkin' I won't be lonely
By and by.

Langston Hughes's
Bad Luck Card
.. Cause you don't love me
Is awful, awful hard.
Gypsy done showed me
My bad luck card.

.. There ain't no good left
In this world for me,
Gypsy done tole me --
Unlucky as can be.

.. I don't know what
Po' weary me can do.
Gypsy says I'd kill my self

.. If I was you.

Christina Rossetti's
Remember
... Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad

Francesco Petrarcha's
Sonnet 132
...If it’s not love, then what is it I feel?
But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing?
If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?
If bad, then why is every torment sweet?
If I burn willingly, why weep and grieve?
And if against my will, what good lamenting?
O living death, O pleasurable harm,
how can you rule me if I not consent?

.. And if I do consent, it’s wrong to grieve.
Caught in contrasting winds in a frail boat
on the high seas I am without a helm,
so light of wisdom, so laden of error,
that I myself do not know what I want,
and shiver in midsummer, burn in winter.

William Shakespeare's
Sonnet 129
...Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action, and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,

.. Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad.

.. Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest, to have extreme,
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe,
Before a joy proposed behind a dream.

.. All this the world well knows yet none knows well,
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Dorothy Parker's
The Choice
.. He'd have given me rolling lands,
House of marble, and billowing farms,
Pearls, to trickle between my hands,
Smoldering rubies, to circle my arms.

.. You--you'd only a lilting song,
Only a melody, happy and high,
You were sudden and swift and strong--
Never a thought for another had I.

.. He'd have given me laces rare,
Dresses that glimmered with frosty sheen,
Shining ribbons to wrap my hair,
Horses to draw me, as fine as a queen.
You'd--you'd only to whistle low,

.. Gayly I followed wherever you led.
I took you, and I let him go--
Somebody ought to examine my head.

Dorothy Parker's
Musings
.. I don't care what is written about me
So long as it isn't true.

.. The cure for boredom is curiosity.
There is no cure for curiosity.

.. You can't teach an old dogma new tricks.

.. Men seldom make passes
At girls who wear glasses.

.. A girl's best friend is her mutter.

. I only require three things of a man:
He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid .

.. The Monte Carlo casino refused to admit me until I was properly dressed so I went and found my stockings. Then I came back and lost my shirt.

Mark Twain's
Musings

Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.

Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please.

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.

Suppose you were an idiot and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.

Mitsuye Yamada's
Looking Out
...
It must be odd
to be a minority
he was saying.
I looked around
and didn't see any.
So I said
Yeah

Edwin Arlington Robinson's
Richard Cory
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,     
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

John Haines's
To Turn Back
The grass people bow
their heads before the wind.

How would it be
to stand among them, bending
our heads like that ... ?

Yes ... and no ... perhaps ...
lifting our dusty faces
as if we were waiting for
the rain ... ?

The grass people stand
all year, patient and obedient --

To be among them
is to have only simple
and friendly thoughts,
and not be afraid.

Gwendolyn Brook's
We Real Cool
(The Pool Players Seven
at the Golden Shovel.)

We real cool.  We
Left school.  We
Lurk late.  We
Strike straight.  We
Sing sin.  We
Think gin.  We
Jazz June.  We
Die soon.