The best Author's Poems


Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
in Poems (Author's Poems)
You are still the one with the stone and the sling,
Man of my time. You were in the cockpit,
With the malevolent wings, the meridians of death,
-I have seen you - in the chariot of fire, at the gallows,
At the wheels of torture. I have seen you: it was you,
With your exact science set on extermination,
Without love, without Christ. You have killed again,
As always, as your fathers killed,
as the animals killed that saw you for the first time.
And this blood smells as on the day
When one brother told the other brother:
"Let us go into the fields." And that echo, chill, tenacious,
Has reached down to you, within your day.
Forgot, O sons, the clouds of blood
Risen from the earth, forget your fathers:
Their tombs sink down in ashes,
Black birds, the wind, cover their heart.
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    Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
    in Poems (Author's Poems)
    The fountains mingle with the river,
    And the rivers with the ocean;
    The winds of heaven mix forever
    With a sweet emotion;
    Nothing in the world is single;
    All things by a law divine
    In another's being mingle--
    Why not I with thine?
    See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
    And the waves clasp one another;
    No sister flower could be forgiven
    If it disdained its brother;
    And the sunlight clasps the earth,
    And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
    What are all these kissings worth,
    If thou kiss not me?
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      in Poems (Author's Poems)

      Smile

      Smile though your heart is aching
      Smile even though it's breaking
      When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
      If you smile through your fear and sorrow
      Smile and maybe tomorrow
      You'll see the sun come shining through for you

      Light up your face with gladness
      Hide every trace of sadness
      Although a tear may be ever so near
      That's the time you must keep on trying
      Smile, what's the use of crying?
      You'll find that life is still worthwhile
      If you just smile.
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        Posted by: Dario Pautasso
        in Poems (Author's Poems)
        There's a bluebird in my heart that
        wants to get out
        but I'm too tough for him,
        I say, stay in there, I'm not going
        to let anybody see
        you.
        There's a bluebird in my heart that
        wants to get out
        but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
        cigarette smoke
        and the whores and the bartenders
        and the grocery clerks
        never know that
        he's
        in there.

        There's a bluebird in my heart that
        wants to get out
        but I'm too tough for him,
        I say,
        stay down, do you want to mess
        me up?
        You want to screw up the
        works?
        You want to blow my book sales in
        Europe?
        There's a bluebird in my heart that
        wants to get out
        but I'm too clever, I only let him out
        at night sometimes
        when everybody's asleep.
        I say, I know that you're there,
        so don't be
        sad.
        Then I put him back,
        but he's singing a little
        in there, I haven't quite let him
        die
        and we sleep together like
        that
        with our
        secret pact
        and it's nice enough to
        make a man
        weep, but I don't
        weep, do
        you?
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          Posted by: R. Parisi
          in Poems (Author's Poems)
          I want you to know
          one thing.
          You know how this is:
          if I look
          at the crystal moon, at the red branch
          of the slow autumn at my window,
          if I touch
          near the fire
          the impalpable ash
          or the wrinkled body of the log,
          everything carries me to you,
          as if everything that exists,
          aromas, light, metals,
          were little boats
          that sail
          toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
          Well, now,
          if little by little you stop loving me
          I shall stop loving you little by little.
          If suddenly
          you forget me
          do not look for me,
          for I shall already have forgotten you.
          If you think it long and mad,
          the wind of banners
          that passes through my life,
          and you decide
          to leave me at the shore
          of the heart where I have roots,
          remember
          that on that day,
          at that hour,
          I shall lift my arms
          and my roots will set off
          to seek another land.
          But
          if each day,
          each hour,
          you feel that you are destined for me
          with implacable sweetness,
          if each day a flower
          climbs up to your lips to seek me,
          ah my love, ah my own,
          in me all that fire is repeated,
          in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
          my love feeds on your love, beloved,
          and as long as you live it will be in your arms
          without leaving mine.
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            in Poems (Author's Poems)
            When you give me your little hand
            That conveys so much you never say,
            Have I ever asked in any way
            If you love me, if you can?
            I don't desire love from thee,
            Only that I know you're near
            And that once in a while dear
            You softly and silently give your hand to me.
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              in Poems (Author's Poems)
              There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
              There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
              There is society, where none intrudes,
              By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
              I love not man the less, but Nature more,
              From these our interviews, in which I steal
              From all I may be, or have been before,
              To mingle with the Universe, and feel
              What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
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                Posted by: Sylvia Drago
                in Poems (Author's Poems)

                We Never Know How High We Are

                We never know how high we are
                Till we are asked to rise
                And then if we are true to plan
                Our statures touch the skies -

                The Heroism we recite
                Would be a normal thing
                Did not ourselves the Cubits warp
                For fear to be a King.
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                  in Poems (Author's Poems)
                  I was not aware of the moment
                  when I first crossed the threshold of this life.
                  What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery
                  like a bud in the forest at midnight!
                  When in the morning I looked upon the light
                  I felt in a moment that I was no stranger in this world,
                  that the inscrutable without name and form
                  had taken me in its arms in the form of my own mother.
                  Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me.
                  And because I love this life,
                  I know I shall love death as well.
                  The child cries out
                  when from the right breast the mother takes it away,
                  in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.
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