Best Poems About / On GRIEF
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189.
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Lying In Grass
Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
And the down colors of the bright summer meadow,
The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song,
Is this everything only a god's
Groaning dream,
The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance?
The distant line of the mountain,
That beautifully and courageously rests in the blue,
Is this too only a convulsion,
Only the wild strain of fermenting nature,
Only grief, only agony, only meaningless fumbling,
Never resting, never a blessed movement?
No! Leave me alone, you impure dream
Of the world in suffering!
The dance of tiny insects cradles you in an evening radiance,
The bird's cry cradles you,
A breath of wind cools my forehead
With consolation.
Leave me alone, you unendurably old human grief!
Let it all be pain.
Let it all be suffering, let it be wretched-
But not this one sweet hour in the summer,
And not the fragrance of the red clover,
And not the deep tender pleasure
In my soul.
Translated by James Wright
Submitted by Holt
Hermann Hesse
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190.
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AMNESIA - 6
AMNESIA - 6
esspeecee
22.09.09.
Natural Amnesia
Yields and builds
Huh Hush Sigh
By hoi polloi.
Clothed Amnesia
The drapet
Happy in being
Pseudo oblivious
Keeps in-built feeling
Sailing rowing rafting
Joyriding with
Not river in boat
But boat on river
Cloaking feeling
Zapping showing
Out side smearing
Attire of Amnesia.
With the feeling
Not in the feeling.
With the happening
Not in the happening.
With the grief
Not in the grief.
It is
The thumb rule
Golden rule
Trusted rule
Bottom line rule
To
Plunge in allness
Of Universe
With eternal Bliss.
Glory unto:
Cultured Amnesia
Nurtured Amnesia
Pampered Amnesia
Purported Amnesia
Engineered Amnesia
Self imposed Amnesia [SiA].
Tie, fly-high
With SiAmnesia! !
Copyright reserved by Author
Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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191.
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Grief
I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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192.
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Lost Love
His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence--drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.
Robert Graves
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