DD_belatedPNG.fix(‘.pngfix’);
DD_belatedPNG.fix(‘.pngfix’);
Similar Posts
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes
But you are the engrossing lexiconOf fame mysterious and unrevealed,And fame it is the soil’s strong pull.Would that I more erect were sprung!But even so I shall be calledThe native son of my own native tongue.The poets’ age no longer sets their rhyme,Now, in the sweep of country plots and roads,Lermontov is rhymed with summertime,And…
})();
});
});
$(document).on(‘mouseout’, ‘.newratestarver’, function(){
I hang limp on the Creator’s pen
Underneath are dykes’ secrets; the airFrom the railways is sodden and sticky,Of the fumes of coal and night fires reeking.But the moment night kills sunset’s glare,It turns pink itself, tinged with far flares,And the fence stands stiff, paradox-stricken.It keeps muttering: stop it till dawn.Let the dry whiting finally settle.Hard as nails is the worm-eaten ground,And…
Similar Posts
‘https://www.instagram.com/poemhunter/’,
‘https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLpnH-dUr9oW8YGcdCWrdrQ’
I think I can call on words
But if I can’t, no matter –I’ll persist, I won’t care.I hear the muttering of wet roofs,pale eclogues from stones and kerb.From the opening lines, that city,is alive in each sound, each word.You can’t leave town though it’s spring,and your customers won’t wait.Dawn glows, by lamplight sewingwith unbowed back, eyes wet.Breathing the calm of far-off…
The shiv’ring piano, foaming at the mouth,
‘My darling,’ you will murmur. ‘No!’ I’ll shout.‘To music?!’ Yet can two be ever closerThan in the dusk, while tossing vibrant chordsInto the fireplace, like journals, tome by tome?Oh, understanding wonderful, just nod,And you will know I do not claim to ownYour soul and body. You may go where’erYou want. To others. Werther has been…
Leave a Reply Cancel reply
DD_belatedPNG.fix(‘.pngfix’);
Similar Posts
Lines written by young Temethos, madly in love.
of Antiochos Epiphanis; a very good-looking young manfrom Samosata. But if the lines come outardent, full of feeling, it’s because Emonidis(belonging to another, much older time:the 137th year of the Greek kingdom,maybe a bit earlier) is in the poemmerely as a name -a suitable one nevertheless.The poem gives voice to the love Temethos feels,a beautiful…
}
});
Forgotten between the leaves of an old book—
I found an unsigned watercolor.It must have been the work of a powerful artist.Its title: ‘Representation of Love.’‘…love of extreme sensualists’ would have been more to the point.Because it became clear as you looked at the work(it was easy to see what the artist had in mind)that the young man in the paintingwas not designated…
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
in Alexandria. Tamides left me;he went off with the Prefect’s son to earn himselfa villa on the Nile, a mansion in the city.It wouldn’t have been right for me to stay in Alexandria.I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.I live a vile life, devoted to cheap debauchery.The one thing that saves me,like durable…
Leave a Reply Cancel reply
DD_belatedPNG.fix(‘.pngfix’);
Similar Posts
As you’ll have heard, I’m no beginner.
and in my own country, Tyana, I’m really quite famous.Actually, a number of senators herehave also commissioned works of mine.Let me show youa few of them. Notice this Rhea:reverential, all fortitude, most primitive.Notice Pompey. And Marius here,and Paulus Aemilius, and Scipio Africanus.The likeness as close as I could make it.And Patroklos (I still have to…
For two years he studied with Ammonios Sakkas,
Then he went into politics.But he gave that up. That Prefect was an idiot,and those around him, somber-faced officious nitwits:their Greek—poor fools—absolutely barbaric.After that he becamevaguely curious about the Church: to be baptizedand pass as a Christian. But he soonchanged his mind: it would certainly have caused a rowwith his parents, ostentatious pagans,and—horrible thought—they would…
That things in the Colony aren’t what they should be
and though in spite of everything we do move forward,maybe -as more than a few believe- the time has cometo bring in a Political Reformer.But here’s the problem, here’s the rub:they make a tremendous fussabout everything, these Reformers.(What a relief it would beif they were never needed.) They probe everywhere,question the smallest detail,and right away…
I got bored looking at the stage
In one of the boxes I saw youwith your strange beauty, your decadent youthfulness.My thoughts turned back at onceto all I’d heard about you that afternoon;my mind and body were aroused.And as I gazed enthralledat your languid beauty, your languid youthfulness,your tastefully discriminating dress,in my imagination I kept picturing youthe way they’d talked about you…