Poems About Louise Gluck Seeking Honest Critique
#LouiseGluck
slipalong
Poem Published
3rd Feb 2020 9:12am
3rd Feb 2020 9:12am
Mounted on brightened wings
How wish we, have that grace in common
in meadow with its vista mapped
see and feel its sway
the heady rush of pollen
the heart uncapped, the keg now tapped
That upward rush under the wing
spirit like Lovage; cloy on the teeth
with herbs, liven the palate with every sip
from its chrysalis then break free
A swish, its fashioned delicacy
to flutter, as notes upon a stave
that free spirit trace
like imagination's, dance upon...
in meadow with its vista mapped
see and feel its sway
the heady rush of pollen
the heart uncapped, the keg now tapped
That upward rush under the wing
spirit like Lovage; cloy on the teeth
with herbs, liven the palate with every sip
from its chrysalis then break free
A swish, its fashioned delicacy
to flutter, as notes upon a stave
that free spirit trace
like imagination's, dance upon...
#nature
#LouiseGluck
537 reads
3 Comments
slipalong
Poem Published
30th Jan 2020 9:39am
30th Jan 2020 9:39am
The Cortage
Lie they now on a wheelbase stretched
the box to hold all lifes pursuits
mourners and "my black tie where is it kept"
the shiny coffin resting their best suit
Memories that rise and teardrops fall
the wardrobe of discomfort
the solomn line of cars that crawl
the elegy of all your triumph
The hearse so smart without a finger mark
a mobile phone bursts into life
the reply just whispered quiet
it goes to voice mail with a snick
The line with measured tread
passes soon from birth to grave
in joy...
the box to hold all lifes pursuits
mourners and "my black tie where is it kept"
the shiny coffin resting their best suit
Memories that rise and teardrops fall
the wardrobe of discomfort
the solomn line of cars that crawl
the elegy of all your triumph
The hearse so smart without a finger mark
a mobile phone bursts into life
the reply just whispered quiet
it goes to voice mail with a snick
The line with measured tread
passes soon from birth to grave
in joy...
#death
#LouiseGluck
543 reads
4 Comments
wallyroo92
Poem Published
27th Jan 2020 7:40pm
27th Jan 2020 7:40pm
Afterthought
Remembering what I said last night, now I reflect
I should have been a little more cautious with my words
But then again hindsight is always twenty-twenty
I blurted out the things that came to mind
And now I’m choosing on what to do next.
I don’t know why I said it
But my intuition was to be honest,
Now the poet in me is sad.
I slept on it but still
No answers came to me in dreams…
It’s like we go through this cycle,
Every once in a while we’ll argue,
Reconnect and become closer,
Until something...
I should have been a little more cautious with my words
But then again hindsight is always twenty-twenty
I blurted out the things that came to mind
And now I’m choosing on what to do next.
I don’t know why I said it
But my intuition was to be honest,
Now the poet in me is sad.
I slept on it but still
No answers came to me in dreams…
It’s like we go through this cycle,
Every once in a while we’ll argue,
Reconnect and become closer,
Until something...
#SelfReflection
#LouiseGluck
676 reads
6 Comments
russell_snow
Poem Published
19th Jan 2020 10:43pm
19th Jan 2020 10:43pm
Tuned Out
The sounds of the city
Are starting to annoy me
And no, they never really did before
Now I understand the reason
People move out to the country
At least the sounds of nature
Are non destructive
to the creative eyes and ears
As I try to sit here and think
I think the walls are paper thin
And this ink is too thick to hold my hand
If nothing else can help me out
I suppose the sunlight streaming through
Each window on both sides
of the tiny house; is a welcome view
even after all these years
This house in...
Are starting to annoy me
And no, they never really did before
Now I understand the reason
People move out to the country
At least the sounds of nature
Are non destructive
to the creative eyes and ears
As I try to sit here and think
I think the walls are paper thin
And this ink is too thick to hold my hand
If nothing else can help me out
I suppose the sunlight streaming through
Each window on both sides
of the tiny house; is a welcome view
even after all these years
This house in...
#city
#WritersBlock
#separation #LouiseGluck
#separation #LouiseGluck
311 reads
1 Comment
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
17th Jan 2020 10:44pm
17th Jan 2020 10:44pm
Too-Soon
You may “stop all the clocks”
as many times as you wish
and Death will not be impressed.
With Time on his side
Death sneers at the turning of gears,
laughs at swinging pendulums,
yawns bored at chains with weights
and the tick … tock … tick … tock …
is no more than white noise
promising eternal continuance
of Death’s 100% success rate.
She died before her time,
sieved by helplessness.
The rational mind gives poor answers to this mystery
and a truer bigger picture
lies...
as many times as you wish
and Death will not be impressed.
With Time on his side
Death sneers at the turning of gears,
laughs at swinging pendulums,
yawns bored at chains with weights
and the tick … tock … tick … tock …
is no more than white noise
promising eternal continuance
of Death’s 100% success rate.
She died before her time,
sieved by helplessness.
The rational mind gives poor answers to this mystery
and a truer bigger picture
lies...
#death
#spiritual
#TruthOfLife #LouiseGluck
#TruthOfLife #LouiseGluck
1292 reads
31 Comments
russell_snow
Poem Published
11th Jan 2020 2:59am
11th Jan 2020 2:59am
A Wilted Garden
visiting the darker places
no one lingers
not on purpose; not them nor I
tending the wilted flowers
on autumn's doorstep; yet a welcome breeze
learning the embrace,
the lull, the sting
not on purpose; if only one time
to hold a rose's thorn
awake! walking the softer sands
the homeward journey
awarding a quiet reprieve
behold! another artist, like me
dripping color on the canvas
brushing a red dawn
over distant, turbulent waters
painting death; yet a calming end
not on...
no one lingers
not on purpose; not them nor I
tending the wilted flowers
on autumn's doorstep; yet a welcome breeze
learning the embrace,
the lull, the sting
not on purpose; if only one time
to hold a rose's thorn
awake! walking the softer sands
the homeward journey
awarding a quiet reprieve
behold! another artist, like me
dripping color on the canvas
brushing a red dawn
over distant, turbulent waters
painting death; yet a calming end
not on...
#depression
#dark
#death
#separation
#LouiseGluck
415 reads
6 Comments
slipalong
Poem Published
2nd Jan 2020 3:36pm
2nd Jan 2020 3:36pm
Spring bulb # Louise Gluck
Waited with seminal pose
The dormant
A hidden self
locked in the cold
I would welcome the warmth
That resting prolapsed
Did you bring the cold
A permafrost masked
To stunt awakens lay
To hold and not release the bud
The new growth from the corm
Its green to unfold
Insects in burrows like hermits
A commitment to industry
The spring brought its work ethics
Earths nurcher and nature of raising
Warming arms come to chase
The first kiss
The pout that god...
The dormant
A hidden self
locked in the cold
I would welcome the warmth
That resting prolapsed
Did you bring the cold
A permafrost masked
To stunt awakens lay
To hold and not release the bud
The new growth from the corm
Its green to unfold
Insects in burrows like hermits
A commitment to industry
The spring brought its work ethics
Earths nurcher and nature of raising
Warming arms come to chase
The first kiss
The pout that god...
#nature
#LouiseGluck
677 reads
4 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
1st Jan 2020 6:19pm
1st Jan 2020 6:19pm
Wintertide Metaphor
( after Louise Glück )
How was I to know
dormancy could craft
the art of contentment;
that breaking beyond winter
to spring’s hustling charms
would teach me of solitude—
instill a crisp propensity
for suppression again
Spring is cursory—
a budding headdress only
for those that cannot observe
beyond outward beauty;
who swallow, eventually ...
How was I to know
dormancy could craft
the art of contentment;
that breaking beyond winter
to spring’s hustling charms
would teach me of solitude—
instill a crisp propensity
for suppression again
Spring is cursory—
a budding headdress only
for those that cannot observe
beyond outward beauty;
who swallow, eventually ...
#winter
#metaphor
#LouiseGluck #earth
#LouiseGluck #earth
1111 reads
30 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Louise Gluck Seeking Honest Critique
Page:
#LouiseGluck is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
