Poetry Friday

Homage to my Hips
by Lucille Clifton

these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top

Lucille Clifton

Poetry Friday

Since tomorrow night the Lord of Sound and I are going to see U2 in Cardiff, and since I hail from Memphis, Tennessee.

Pride (In the Name of Love)

One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One man come here to justify
One man to overthrow
In the name of love!
One man in the name of love
In the name of love!
What more? In the name of love!

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resists
One man washed on an empty beach
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more? In the name of love!

...nobody like you...there's nobody like you...

Mmm...mmm...mmm...
Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more in the name of love...

Poetry Friday

When I was in high school, we sang this poem. It was so beautiful. I wish I could find a recorded version of it. Plus, has anyone seen that documentary on the BBC that Rupert Everett does on Lord Byron? Whoa! I'm so often shocked by what I see on the BBC. She walks in beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent.

Poetry Friday (one day late)

all which isn't singing is mere talking
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf)

gush to it as diety or devil
-toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
it is you (ne i)nobody else

drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
-you are deafened every mother's son-
all is merely talk which isn't singing
and all talking's to oneself alone

but the very song of(as mountains
feel and lovers)singing is silence

e.e. cummings

Poetry Friday

~God Says Yes to Me~

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly

what you want to

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don't paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

who knows where she picked that up

what I'm telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

- Kaylin Haught

Poetry Friday

Making Jam in July

by Inna Kabysh

A woman who's making jam in July

is resighned to living with her husband.

She won't escape with her lover, secretly.

Otherwise, why boil up fruit with sugar?

And observe, how willingly she does it,

as a labour of lov,

even though space is at a premium

and there's nowhere to store the jars.

A woman who's making jam in July

is preparing to be around for a while.

She intends to soldier on, to hibernate

through the discomforts of winter.

Otherwise, for what reason, and notice,

not out of any feeling of duty,

should she be spending the short summer

skimming residue off jam?

A woman who's making jam in July

in all the chaos of a steamy kitchen,

isn't going to be absconding to the West

or buying a ticket to the States.

That woman will be scrambling out of snowdrifts,

buoyed up by the savour of the fruit.

Whoever's making jam in Russia

knows there isn't any way out.

Translated by Fay Marshall and Jay Marshall

Poetry Friday

Teddy Bear Poem

Judith Viorst

I threw away my Teddy Bear,

The one that lost his eye.

I threw him in the garbage pail

(I thought I heard him cry.)

I've had that little Teddy Bear

Since I was only two.

But I'm much bigger now and

I've better things to do

Then play with silly Teddy Bears

And so I said good-bye

And threw him in the garbage pail

(Who's crying~ he or I?)

Poetry Friday

Ha! Bet you thought I wouldn't post one today. I am that awesome. (Plus blogger has a feature where you can schedule your posts to publish later. But I am a little awesome, too.)

One, Two, Buckle my shoe;
Three, Four, Shut the door;
Five, Six, Pick up sticks;
Seven, Eight, Lay them straight;
Nine, Ten, A big, fat hen;
Eleven, Twelve, Dig and delve;
Thirteen, Fourteen, Maids a-courting; Fifteen, Sixteen, Maids in the kitchen; Seventeen, Eighteen, Maids in awaiting; Nineteen, Twenty, My plate's empty.

Poetry Friday

The Four Friends (by A. A. Milne from When We Were Very Young)

Ernest was an elephant, a great big fellow,
Leonard was a lion with a six foot tail,
George was a goat, and his beard was yellow,
And James was a very small snail.

Leonard had a stall, and a great big strong one,
Earnest had a manger, and its walls were thick,
George found a pen, but I think it was the wrong one,
And James sat down on a brick

Earnest started trumpeting, and cracked his manger,
Leonard started roaring, and shivered his stall,
James gave a huffle of a snail in danger
And nobody heard him at all.

Earnest started trumpeting and raised such a rumpus,
Leonard started roaring and trying to kick,
James went on a journey with the goats new compass
And he reached the end of his brick.

Ernest was an elephant and very well intentioned,
Leonard was a lion with a brave new tail,
George was a goat, as I think I have mentioned,
but James was only a snail.

Poetry Friday

Who Has Seen the Wind?
by Christina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?
neither I nor you;

But when the leaves are trembling,
the wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
neither you nor I;

But when the trees bow down their heads,
the wind is passing by.

Poetry Friday

Down By the Salley Gardens (William Butler Yeats)

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;

She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.

She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;

But I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree.

In a field by the river my love and I did stand,

And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.

She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;

But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

(You know I'd put a folk song down as my first poetry Friday post, didn't you? He's also Irish.)