Category Archives: poetry, poems, poets

Leonard Cohen-TONIGHT WILL BE FINE (“Sometimes I find I get to thinking of the past.”)



Sometimes I find I get to thinking of the past.
We swore to each other then that our love would surely last.
You kept right on loving, I went on a fast,
now I am too thin and your love is too vast.

But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.

I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair.

But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.

Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
she’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be
and she’s moving her body so brave and so free.
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory.

And I know from her eyes
and I know from her smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.

at tina_baines: Needs no words … LOVE— jose luis (@depolitic) Read Haiky-Love, poetic thought by George-B)


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Read>>>>>> Haiku —Love, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems page)

quotation: “Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.” George Eliot


Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.

George Eliot (1819-1880) Discuss

Leonard Cohen – In My Secret Life lyrics plus: make music part of your life series (“…Looked through the paper. Makes you want to cry. Nobody cares if the people Live or die…”)


“In My Secret Life”

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

Winter Night (poetic thought by George-B) (the smudge and other poems)


Winter Night (poetic thought by George-B)

And then there was no sound to be heard
while the light dimmed -
behind the  darkness only few impressions survived…

An owl  attacked, and a mouse gave the last cry…

A handful of wind combed the plane of the leaves,
the plane of the air behind the branches:
The ripple in the still surface of the pond 
froze then, as if touched by a spell:

‘There will be no Spring in sight, not anytime  soon!’

(©Always by George-B)

sphere of power, poetic thought by George-B (©always) (the smudge and other poems)


sphere of power, poetic thought by George-B 

(the smudge and other poems)

the sphere of power was robbed of one dimension.
the reminding circle is shivering
in confusing memory
of the once well adjusted  object of perfection – idolatry-
the circle’s shadowy plane hovers – like a Frisbee thrown and caught again and again –  until  dizzy and a little thirty…

Should the circle loose yet another dimension…well,  something like
a belt
shoelace
neck tie
dead snake,
will be all that’s left,
from the sphere of power…

George-B (©always)

quotation: What hath night to do with sleep? John Milton


What hath night to do with sleep?

John Milton (1608-1674) Discuss

A perfect one hundred percent, poetic thought, ©by George-B Always (the smudge and other poems)


A perfect one hundred percent, poetic thought,
by George-B

In some non mysterious yet natural way
I failed to understand the way you are,
speak,

laugh,
cry
look up toward the heavens above in search of
a sign
release
understanding
love
anything to
heal
lean on
A cotton cloud
and again understanding,
that is comprehensive,
that cleanses like
a non-acid summer rain as they used to be before…
You are so obvious, yet-yet  I always failed to give you
what you needed, to give you…
so I just gave you back you riddle and
tried to behave meanwhile as if I understood you
completely, as if I knew the puzzling cross-word by heart
as if I ace every SAT question, one and all,
a perfect one hundred percent.

(©by George-B Always
)

today’s birthday: Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207)


Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207)

Rumi was a great Persian poet and Sufi mystic whose influence has spread to Persian-speakers in Afghanistan, central Asia, Turkey, and beyond. His Masnavi-ye Manavi, a six-volume work of spiritual teaching and Sufi lore related in the form of stories and lyric poetry, widely influenced Muslim mystical thought and literature. Rumi’s followers founded the Mevlevi order, whose members use dancing and music as part of their spiritual method and are popularly known by what name? More… Discuss

Unmasking the truth, poetic thought by George-B (The Smudge and other poems)


Unmasking the truth, poetic thought by George-B

Unmasking the truth,
Unlike skinning
a mushroom,
a tree,
a hare, a crocodile, a bird of paradise
is a matter of
intellectual quest,
curiosity, of
pretending to have found the place of gathering
that
most people avoid
where only few have the what-ever-it-is
that
make people step out of the safety of
sheepish crowds,

and expose their brains to the elements,
all
natural or human or inhumanly made…
It is also a matter of taste, sometimes a choice
but mostly a matter of no other choice at all.

©Always, by George-B.

The Wine and the Cup -Rumi


The Wine and the Cup -Rumi

The wine of divine grace is limitless:
All limits come only from the faults of the cup.
Moonlight floods the whole sky from horizon to horizon;
How much it can fill your room depends on its windows.
Grant a great dignity, my friend, to the cup of your life;
Love has designed it to hold His eternal wine.

Old, yet embelished with passage of time: Rumi and the Play of Poetry – University of California Television (UCTV)



Rumi and the Play of Poetry

Numai ecouri, cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always George-B (the smudge and other poems)


Numai ecouri, cugetare poetica de George-B

Ecourile sant acum tacute:
In spatiile ntunecate,
In unghiurile ascutite, urma ecoului devine muta…
Nu, nu este vina ta ca nu auzi, nu creze ca esti surda:
E numai un effect al vremii care sta ascunde-n umbra,
E numai ramasita razelor calde de lumina…
acum o piele de oaie atatnind
din umeri si-atingand pamantul, rece, inghetat,
ca un altar in culmile ghetarilor vesnici
doar linisteaa asurzitoare sta marturie unui trecut cu sunet,
cu voci de neuitat, cu muzica si cantec – ce toate s-au dus…

Ecourile sant acum tacute.

©Always George-B (the smudge and other poems)

The time starts now, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems)


The time starts now, poetic thought by George-B

A time to learn
And a time to forget,
and a time to remember
That you’ve been forgotten…

A time to reach out
and a time to coil in,
Curled inside your shell,
For a quality time with the universe…

A time to explain
and a time to accept that objection is the only way to make
a difference,
and then to go and take a skinny deep in the nearest Jacuzzi…

A time to address the rest of us
in unerasable communication,
even if no one’s aware,
for a thousand years…

A time to enjoy not having a bucket list,
or any form of other regrets,
or sympathies,
or likes and dislikes that hurt like frost,
or burning coal at the feet…
you will meet your limb again somewhere in time,
in the past, or future:

The time starts now (start whistle here 3,2,1, NOW!)

©Always, by George-B

sant, sant, sant… cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always ( The smudge and other poems)


sant, sant, sant… cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always

Sant capitanul  barcii
Care nu mai ia apa,
ca apa i-a trecut de mult peste cap…

Sant subacvatic, fara sa fi fost un submarin-plutesc intre ape
Din adancuri  bradisul ma tine pe umeri, ma leagana si-mi canta-
Sant doar un vis, acum,
cu barca far-de vasle, si apa rece la inceput de seara tomnateca,
ma misca, si ma frînge.

Fara busola,
fara compass,
privesc bulele de gaz ce se ridica din adancul verde…
printre brotacii noi sant doar un capitan pribeag,
sortit sa fie intre ape, nici jos pe fund, nici pe la aer…
doar asa, ca un suspin, intre ape grele si usoare,
de la amiaza pana-n luna plina,
sant, sant, sant…

In umbra soarelui de-amiaza, cugetare poetica de George-B, ©Always (the smadge and other poems)


In umbra soarelui de-amiaza, cugetare poetica de Geoerge-B,  ©Always

Printer foile uitate zilelor ingalbenite
Pierdut-a-fost lumina zilei…
regasita in penumbra,
inditecta raza de crepuscul ne-intamplat,
ceasului fara de limba pe-orologiul de timp…uitat.

Printer clipele uitate, fara memorie orologiului crepuscular
Alternativ,
doar prezentului far’de prihana, nememorizat, necatalogat -
Precum cantecul launtric, ce nu s-a asternut in note
pe firele firave de portativului, precum stergare la uscat…

Intre penele pasarii de foc   care-a cazut ca un meteorit,
orientat spre-a sa pricina; Am ars cenusa ce-a ramas,
Asternuta pe fata pergamentului cu lacrima uda, pusa la uscat…
Cenusa ce pastreaza taina pentru totdeauna,
taina ce pastreaza  clipa de clipa cenusa, esenta, alchimia,
astrologia cunostintele marginale vor ramane necunoscute,
in afara cercului nepunctat al uitarii…

in umbra soarelui de-amiaza santem cu toti insetati de a afla mai mult.

along the trail, poetic thought by George-B ©Always (the smudge and other poems)


along the trail, poetic thought by George-B ©Always

(the smudge and other poems)


along the trail you see the joy of being free

along the trail you hear the thrills of flying free
of landing at your leisure.
Along the trail you feel the green of plants get greener
The wild mustard seedpods opening
and seed achieving goal

Along the trail you breath the natural at ease,
the fragrant exaltation of aromatic shields
Along the trail you live,
along the trail you  let live, while

coming around again and again for more.

along the trail by George-B_FotoSketcher (Painting 8-excessive srokes) my art collection

along the trail by George-B_FotoSketcher (Painting 8-excessive strokes) my art collection

Survivors, poetic thought by George-B ©Always (The smudge and other poems)


Survivors, poetic thought by George-B ©Always (The smudge and other poems)

I’ve witnessed moments like this
Made of lights and shadows,
with aroma of licorice and tarragon
tasting like roasted bell peppers and eggplants

I’ve witnessed moments like this
In sepia, and black and white, faintly smelling of retouching indigo

Papillon:

In the depth of the jungle, the smell of mushrooms is stronger
that any other smell except that of decaying matter

I’ve witnessed moments like this
of serenity: when being takes over the fear of dying,
of falling, through the holes in the old dragnet:
tilapia is a smart fish: it turns on one side,
at the bottom,
just above the mud,
avoiding the net…
other fishes are learning the technique: They are survivors.

The Tomb of Nakht, 1500 BC, contains a tilapia hieroglyph just above the head of the central figure.

Why all the struggle? poetic thought by George-B (©Always) (the smudge and other poems)


Why all the struggle? poetic thought by George-B (©Always)

Do we really want change, 
do we really need it: 
when brought about by…
The king of darkness?
Can’t we do with things the way they are,
slowly dissolving into the ocean of time?
Just evolving into involution,
return to the wisdom of the cave dwellers,
Before fire was noticed by the clan chief?
Isn’t that satisfying enough?
Why all the struggle?

The Danger, poetic thought by George-B (©Always) (the smudge and other poems)


The Danger, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)

The Danger lurking in plain sight,
disguised
as benevolent face…
It holds a book,
of broken promises,
some secrets to be kept…
How more can one deceive,
another one with,
But selling all there is,
and getting bloated at it…
The epics of persona selling,
is just as old as slave trade,
yes, it is…

we’re blessed, poetic thought by George-B (©Always) (the smudge and other poems)


we’re blessed, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)

The snow is melting on Kilimanjaro,
The snow is melting everywhere else
The water levels are rising, and they will continue to
Water cannot escape the earth, the air is captive:
We are lucky that way…
we’re blessed.

facebook, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems)


facebook, poetic thought by George-B

To like or not to like:
That is today’s question:
Facebook plays with my feelings of liking and disliking,
but you know that,
it’s all over the news…the betrayal of trust of confidence,
of the most basic relationship…among people:
Fairness, not taking advantage of each other,
as a tool to make yourself rich (and make another poor)
But then you knew there is nothing sincere about facebook, that some made into faithbook: big mistake, big, big mistake)

need: to return ethics to the world!

Encumbered not, poetic thought by George-B (The smudge and other poems


Encumbered not, poetic thought by George-B  (The smudge and other poems)

Unnoticed, silence breathed its way in:

can you watch now the growing grass,
the snowflakes parachutes landing and,
dust settling on top of dusty old, furniture tops?

almost instantaneously
night had moved over everything:

can you see now the shadows,
and the listless moon in owe,
eyeing the blue, as if…its dust,
were not to remain undisturbed
eons ahead,
except for a few boot prints…
cold of course, and odorless, and sterile…
encumbered not…

Photo: Earth and moon seen from space shuttle

It’s alright, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems Page)


It’s alright, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems Page)

Before me, before I was,
There were two ideas of me, two thoughts
In two minds…and it was alright…
Then one day they came together in one,
New string of DNA, and it was all right…
I was then immersed in the ocean bubble, until
I grew wings, and it was alright…
One day, early morning, I thought
I could leave the ocean
for the rigors of land crawling,
but I did not crawl…
not for a while…and it was alright…
Then
Everything became prosaic, and prose,
and the poetry was lost to
the mundane passage of time,
and nothing could replace that anymore…
not ever…and it’s all right…

Censorship, poetic thought by George-B) (the smudge and other poems – Page-)


Censorship, poetic thought by George-B)
(the smudge and other poems)

We all value things – essentially worthless –
We make them valuable as they rot into forgetfulness
Gold medals, rings, and pocket watches
Old coins, now not currency,
We all give them extrinsic value
Dry flowers, pressed between the pages
Of out of print volumes, and censured volumes
And put to death volumes, by scorching fire, bonfire of volumes
Dangerously truthful to truth volumes, and tomes of many,
many writings in languages forgotten to time itself,
Witchcraft manuals and other books and manuscripts,
and philosophies we agree not with…
All becoming ash and smoke on the bonfire of un-appealable volumes…

Promises, promises, poetic thought by George-B


Promises, promises, poetic thought by George-B

A promise I made
To myself
I will not be bored
I will learn to not be bored
To find the elements in
Things
People
Water
Air
Dirt
Fire
That will be interesting
Enough
Not to bore me
To look for antiboring-antiboring-anti
Behavior
thumb sucking
Smoking whatever
Drinking to unbore
And immature mature relationships
Turning to be boring now I
Walk away from boring
And get fit as I walk, and now
I can tell what’s boring
I can unbore and stay that way
Way to go

I’m on my way…

words, poetic thought by George-B Cuvinte, cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always (my poetry collection – the sludge and other poems)


words, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)
I opened the drawer of words
And picked, mixed,
at random
with hungry hands … words

slippery
heavy
hot
lightning
wet
salt
bitter
blue
black
gray …
randomly
most leaked
through my fingers, like the fine sands
from the beaches of Mamaia …
I sat those words that did not flee
And I built a house of words
And I used that evening armature moonless night
And I put the as firmament to watch over
Being very tired after so much work
I slept in the house of words
with the firmament watching over…

©Always (my poetry collection – the sludge and other poems)

 

Cuvinte, cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always (my poetry collection – the sludge and other poems)


Cuvinte, cugetare poetica de George-B

Am deschis sertarul de cuvinte
Si-n gramada amestecata am cules
La intamplare,
cu maini avide de… cuvinte

alunecoase,
grele,
fierbinti
fulgeratoare
ude
sarate
amare
albastre
negre
cenusii
neajutorate
la intamplare
cele mai multe s-au scurs
printer degete, ca nisipurile fine ale plajii Mamaiei…
Am asezat cuvintele ce n-au fugit
Si-am contruit o casa de cuvinte,
Si-am folosit ca armature seara far-de luna
Iar drept coperis am pus de straja firmamentul
Fiind foarte obosit, dupa asa de multa munca-am
Adormit, in casa de cuvinte,
avand drept coperis…tot firmamentul

(©Always by George-B.)

Sediments, poetic thought by George-B (my poetry collection)


Sediments,  poetic thought by George-B

Grudge
Hurt
Long time
Has passed

Empathy
Warmth
It touched
Under the surface
Long time
Has passed

Memories
Existing
Descending
The spiral
Eccentric

Future
If any
Remembers
The time
When it will be
In the making

(©Always, George-B)

my open window, poetic thought by George-B My collection of art)


 

my open window, poetic thought by George-B

From the window into my soul
See the miles long waves
rolling toward the sandy arrival
The bendin’ the wind of smoke stacks
At the highest rim top,
with the warning red light winking at
planes,
birds
clouds, oh yes!

From the window into my heart
See the love for hills,
wild mustard,
patches of wildest squash,
fallen old oak, young brush that’s never be old,
even though dry too early, oh yes!

From the window in my mind
See the music waving at you to join
in the choir,
the band,
orchestra,
instrument, voice, oh yes!

And see the poetry of words, that gather meaning
as they find themselves aligned and joined
by breath
as sole glue and string,
on the background of the cave wall,
from which all sense became to life, oh yeah!

Became to life!
Welcome to my open window!

Bone of Time, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)


Bone of Time, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)

I’m sitting in this old place
Sometimes,
Thinking about myself,
Imagining myself being
A few years younger,
Still in the safety of the 20th
Century, one hundred years, passed now,
The safety of the memories past …
The memorialistic past, pass double dance of the safe past,
When things turned out okay, and I survived that day and
That and this, days and nights and
sometimes mornings and afternoons,
boring times extraneously boring times of nothing but boredom,
and more boredom and
sometimes the “Hi How are you?”, “Great, thanks…’n how are you?”…

Yes I’m thinking sometimes of the safety of the memories past,
of the 20th century, with more substance on the bone of time,
and less of a hatchet to grind,
with less militantism, and more substance
on the bone of humanity,
on the bone of history,
on the etherical memories of the past.

today’s birthday: José Rizal (1861) (“thinkers are even more dangeroeus when whey write!”)


José Rizal (1861)

Rizal was a Philippine nationalist, author, poet, and physician. While living in Europe, he published novels railing against the evils of Spanish rule in the Philippines, earning him the ire of officials there. Upon his return in 1892, Rizal was arrested as a revolutionary agitator. When an armed rebellion broke out four years later, Rizal, who had advocated reform but not revolution, was shot for sedition. His martyrdom fueled the revolution. What did he do on the eve of his execution? More… Discuss

Leonard Cohen & U2 : Tower Of SongTower Of Song – (Video clip from the film ‘I’m Your Man’ Video INCLUDED in DVD version – U2)


Tower Of Song – Video clip from the film ‘I’m Your Man’
Video INCLUDED in DVD version – U2 : Window in the Skies

LEONARD COHEN

Tower Of Song Lyrics

Songwriters: Cohen, Leonard;

Well my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on
I’m just paying my rent every day in the tower of song

I said to Hank Williams, “How lonely does it get?”
Hank Williams hasn’t answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
Oh, a hundred floors above me in the tower of song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the great beyond
They tied me to this table right here in the tower of song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I’m very sorry, baby, doesn’t look like me at all
I’m standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don’t let a woman kill you not in the tower of song

Now you can say that I’ve grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there’s a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices in the tower of song

I see you standing on the other side
I don’t know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We’ll never, we’ll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don’t know when I’ll be back
They’re moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you’ll be hearing from me baby, long after I’m gone
I’ll be speaking to you sweetly from a window in the tower of song

Yeah, my friends are gone and my head is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on
I’m just paying my rent every day in the tower of song

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Regina Spektor You’ve Got Time lyrics video ( Orange Is The New Black ) (Spector….Gotta love her)


Regina Spektor You’ve Got Time lyrics video ( Orange Is The New Black )

The animals, the animals
Trapped, trapped, trapped ’till the cage is full
The cage is full
Stay awake
In the dark, count mistakes
The light was off but now it’s on
Searching the ground for a bitter song
The sun is out, the day is new
And everyone is waiting, waiting on you
And you’ve got time
And you’ve got time

Think of all the roads
Think of all their crossings
Taking steps is easy
Standing still is hard
Remember all their faces
Remember all their voices
Everything is different
The second time around

The animals, the animals
Trapped, trapped, trapped ’till the cage is full
The cage is full
Stay awake
In the dark, count mistakes
The light was off but now it’s on
Searching the ground for a bitter song
The sun is out, the day is new
And everyone is waiting, waiting on you
And you’ve got time
And you’ve got time

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today’s birthday: Gwendolyn Brooks (1917)


Gwendolyn Brooks (1917)

Brooks was an award-winning poet whose compositions, written in a variety of forms, deal with the experience of being black and often of being female in America. Her 1949 book of poetry, Annie Allen, received a Pulitzer Prize, the first ever awarded to an African American. In 1994, she was named the National Endowment for the Humanities Jefferson Lecturer, one of the highest honors in the American literary world. How old was Brooks when her first poem was published? More… Discuss

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Article: Monitorul de Fagaras: Grecia antică ( I )


Grecia antică ( I ).

Virtual economy, poetic thought by George B


Virtual economy, poetic thought by George B

The paint not dry yet
The painting’s hanging on the wall
Still swaying, slightly,
On the wall that isn’t dry yet,
Between tenancies,
In a building that’s still under construction
That still needs permits,
corridors to be painted,
last coat,
and a roof, and doors…
Economic recovery…
Economic discovery…
Virtual economy…
_+++++++++++++++_+

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today’s birthday: Walt Whitman (1819) Leaves of Grass – Book 1 – Poems of Walt Whitman – FULL Audio Book (Poetry Librivox recording)


Walt Whitman (1819)

Whitman was an innovative American poet whose works dealt overtly with topics like sexuality while celebrating the collective experience of an idealized, democratic American life. In 1855, he published at his own expense Leaves of Grass, a volume of 12 poems. It was a commercial failure but became one of the most influential volumes of poetry in the history of American literature. Whitman’s much-recited poem “O Captain! My Captain!” was written as a tribute to what US president? More… Discuss

Leaves of Grass – Book 1 – Poems of Walt Whitman – FULL Audio Book – Poetry

Leaves of Grass – Book 1 – Poems of Walt Whitman – FULL Audio Book – Poetry

American poet Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass,” is a massive collection of poems comprised of a stunning 35 books and is notable for its praise of the senses, during a time when such candid displays were considered immoral. Prior to the writing of Leaves of Grass, most English language poetry relied on symbolism, allegory, and meditation on religious and spiritual topics. Leaves of Grass is a stark contrast, as it glorifies the body and material world above all else.

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This is a recording of Book 1 of 35

Book 1 — 00:00:0000:29:58
Read by: Gord Mackenzie

— More about Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass” —

Walt Whitman was inspired to begin work on Leaves of Grass after reading an essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson in which he expressed a need for a uniquely American poet. When the book was first published, Whitman sent a copy to Emerson, whose complimentary letter of response aided in its success. President Abraham Lincoln, a personal hero of Whitman, is noted to have read and thoroughly enjoyed an early version of Leaves of Grass. Despite critical acclaim, Whitman faced charges of creating obscene, immoral work, but this inadvertently added to the popularity of his book.

Whitman continually revised and republished Leaves of Grass throughout his lifetime, most notably adding the “Drum-Taps” section after Lincoln’s assassination. The book grew from 12 poems in its first publication. to nearly 400 poems in its final version (the “Death Bed Edition”).

This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain.
Video photo used: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Fil…

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Credinta, poetic thought by George-B


Credinta, poetic thought by George-B

Credinta nu-i oarba:
Ea are un ochi ascuns, inautrul fiintei
de vede tot ce va sa fie…
E doar un suspin, fara alinare,
Sau poate un respir putin prea scurt,
ce parca cere mai mult,
un cascat, un pic de aer mai mult…

credinta nu-i oarba:
precum un magnet nevazut,
un instinct indrumator,
un memento in DNA, cine stie cat de batran…
credinta nu-i oarba.

http://obiectivortodox.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/manastirea-sambata-de-sus-12.jpg?w=602&h=833

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TODAY’S SAINT, MAY 23: St. John Baptist Rossi


Image of St. John Baptist Rossi

St. John Baptist Rossi

This holy priest was born in 1698 at the village of Voltaggio in the diocese of Genoa and was one of the four children of an excellent and highly respected couple. When he ws ten a nobleman and his … continue reading

More Saints of the Day

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Haiku: Spider Web, poetic thought by George B


Haiku:  Spider Web, poetic thought by George B

Suspended between
tree and grass the trap is set:
remorselessly stands…

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Saint of the Day May 12: Sts. Nereus & Achilleus


Saint of the Day

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The Old City, poetic thought by George -B


The Old City, poetic thought by George -B

The window is opened toward a city,
A city that’s built for millennia,
layers of generations,
as dust of time settled upon itself…
The city’s old,
and so are most of its buildings,
kept alive by people who care, by fires,
and wars and bullets,
by rain, snow and heat waves –
The city only grew stronger,
Surviving survival…
And yet something’s missing, lost to the ages
The laughter of children, the play of the squirrels
The thrills of the singing of birds…
The silent past conquered the noise
and reigns now, in absolute power…

A dove on the windowsill is mourning his lover.

 

English: Street in Jerusalem Old City

English: Street in Jerusalem Old City (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Expectation, poetic thought by George B (my poetry collection)


Expectation, poetic thought by George B

It happen once before, creation,
when all there wasn’t turned into being
But then it all fell into complacency
And we became accustomed to just this -
We call being…

Being interrupted,
takes one to before creation,
when nothing was, yet,
everything had an equal chance to become…
fifty- fifty chance,
either – or
neither–nor,
it is that simple,
being, not being,
it’s expected…

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Leonard Cohen Live – A Thousand Kisses Deep (“A light that doesn’t need to live and Doesn’t need to die”)



The poem is about accepting things we can’t change, and accepting a path we didn’t exactly envision for ourselves. Believe there is a quiet courage in accepting the path that is laid ahead of you, as you gather up your heart and go a thousand kisses deep.. 

[Thanks so much Monsieur Leonard Cohen!]

A Thousand Kisses Deep (poem) Lyrics

Leonard Cohen

You came to me this morning
And you handled me like meat.
You´d have to be a man to know
How good that feels, how sweet.
My mirror twin, my next of kin,
I´d know you in my sleep.
And who but you would take me in
A thousand kisses deep?

I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat.
You see, I´m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet,
Who loved you with his frozen love
His second-hand physique -
With all he is, and all he was
A thousand kisses deep.

I know you had to lie to me,
I know you had to cheat.
To pause all hot and high behind
the veils of sheer deceit
Our perfect porn aristocrat
So elegant and cheap
I’m old, but I’m still into that
A thousand kisses deep

I’m good at love, I’m good at hate
It’s in between I freeze
I’d work it out but it’s too late
It’s been too late for years
But you look good, you really do
They love you on the street
If you were here I’d kneel for you
A thousand kisses deep

The Autumn moved across your skin
Got something in my eye
A light that doesn’t need to live and 
Doesn’t need to die
A riddle in the book of love
obscure and obsolete
To witness tear and time and blood
A thousand kisses deep

And I’m still working with the wine
Still dancing cheek to cheek
The band is playing Auld Lang Syne
But the heart will not retreat
I ran with Diz I sang with Ray -
I did not have their sweep -
But once or twice, they let me play
A thousand kisses deep

I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat
You see, I´m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet,
Who loved you with his frozen love
His second-hand physique -
With all he is and all he was
A thousand kisses deep

But you don’t need to hear me now
And every word I speak
It counts against me anyhow
A thousand kisses deep

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Maybe, Maybe, poetic thought by George-B


Maybe, Maybe,  poetic thought by George-B

I waited for the right wave, too long,
unlike Papillon I discovered
no particular sequence.
Wave washed on the sand at my feet, 
waves crushed against the shore, 
always remodeling…

I waited for the right wind, the one that would propel me
away from the shore, for too long…
many a wind came, whistling their way through space
brushing and polishing the face of stone, the Sphinx:
He seems to have been witness to all, since it was carved
by demigods or perhaps antediluvian human-like creature,
my ancestors…
Maybe, one day the perfect wind will bring the perfect wave

Maybe, maybe…

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Hristos a înviat – Cor Ion Pelearcă: Hristos a Inviat!


♫ Hristos a înviat ♫ – Cor Ion Pelearcă

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Keeping Busy, poetic thought by George B


Keeping Busy, poetic thought by George B

He had burned the candle at both ends,
then had added fire to its middle…
He broke afterward the two halves
and burned those ends…

Busy with keeping all these fires burning
he forgot what it was he was loosing sleep over,
what was so vital, more important than
the fundamental bodily function of regenerating through sleep…

So he finally went to bed and slept…

 He never woke up…

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Foreigner – ‘I Want To Know What Love Is’ [Official Music Video]



Music video by Foreigner performing I Want To Know What Love Is.
Best quality available on YouTube

I do not own this material, I am just showing it to the rest of the world. 

Lyrics:

I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I’m older
Aaaah woah-ah-aah

Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
And through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
Aaaah woah-oh-ooh

I’m gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me, oooh ooh-ooh ooh-ooh oooh
I’ve got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
I can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
And I wanna feel, I want to feel what love is
And I know, I know you can show me

Let’s talk about love
(I wanna know what love is) the love that you feel inside
(I want you to show me) I’m feeling so much love
(I wanna feel what love is) no, you just cannot hide
(I know you can show me) yeah, woah-oh-ooh
I wanna know what love is, let’s talk about love
(I want you to show me) I wanna feel it too
(I wanna feel what love is) I wanna feel it too
And I know, and I know, I know you can show me
Show me what is real, woah (woah), yeah I know
(I wanna know what love is) hey I wanna know what love
(I want you to show me), I wanna know, I wanna know, want know
(I wanna feel what love is), hey I wanna feel, love
I know you can show me, yeah

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THIS DAY IN THE YESTERYEAR: HOSTESS TWINKIES ARE INVENTED (1930)


Hostess Twinkies Are Invented (1930)

The Twinkie was invented by baker James Dewar, who noticed that the shop’s shortcake pans were only used during the strawberry season and otherwise sat idle. His thrifty idea to use the pans during the off-season led to the development of the banana-filled Twinkie snack cake. During a World War II banana shortage, vanilla filling replaced the original banana. Twinkies disappeared from US shelves in 2012 when Hostess declared bankruptcy but returned in 2013. What is the “Twinkie defense”? More… Discuss

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