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Identity
Julio Noboa Polanco
Let them be as flowers,
always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed,
clinging on cliffs, like an eagle
wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.
To have broken through the surface of stone,
to live, to feel exposed to the madness
of the vast eternal sky.
To be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea,
carrying my soul, my seed, beyond the mountains
of time
or into the abyss of the bizarre.
I'd rather by unseen, and if
then shunned by everyone,
than to be a pleasant-smelling flower,
growing in clusters in the fertile valley,
where they're praised, handled and plucked
by greedy, human hands.
I'd rather smell of musty, green stench
than of sweet, fragrant lilac.
If I could stand alone, strong and free,
I'd rather be a tall ugly weed.
Fireworks
By Amy Lowell
You hate me and I hate you
And we are so polite, we two!
But whenever I see you, I burst apart
And scatter the sky with my blazing heart.
It spits and sparkles in stars and balls
Buds into roses -- and flares and falls.
Scarlet buttons, and pale green disks,
Silver spirals and asterisks,
Shoot and tremble in a mist
Peppered with mauve and amethyst.
I shine in the windows and light up the trees,
And all because I hate you, if you please.
And when you meet me you rend asunder
And go up in a flaming wonder
Of saffron cubes and crimson moons
And wheels and amaranths and maroons.
Golden lozenges and spades,
Arrows of malachites and jades,
Patens of copper, azure sheaves,
As you mount, you flash in the glossy leaves.
Such fireworks as we make, we two!
Because you hate me and I hate you.
Those are two of my most favored peoms
what are yours?
 Lex-Laramire · Sun Apr 17, 2005 @ 11:22pm · 0 Comments |
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