Best Poems From
From where do simplicity and ease
In the movement of heavenly bodies derive?
It is precision.
Sun is never late to rise upon the Earth,
Moon is never late to cause the tides,
Earth is never late to greet the Sun and the Moon;
Thus accidents are not accidents
But precise arrivals at the wrong right time.
Love is almost never simple;
Too often, feelings arrive too soon,
Waiting for thoughts that often come too late.
I wanted too, to be simple and precise
Like the Sun,
Like the Moon,
Like the Earth
But the Earth was booked
Billions of years in advance;
Designed to meet all desires,
All arrivals, all sunrises, all sunsets,
So I will have to be a little bit late.
Dancing of Sounds
There is a moonlight note
In the Moonlight Sonata;
There is a thunder note
In an angry sky.
Sound unbound by nature
Becomes bounded by art.
There is no competition of sounds
Between a nightingale and a violin.
Nature rewards and punishes
By offering unpredictable ways;
Art is apotheosis;
Often, the complaint of beauty.
Nature is an outcry,
The art—a euphemism—
Dream within the Dream in the Dream of Edgar Allan Poe
In the dream, Homer, Lucretius, Virgil, Ovid, Dante, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, and Robert Frost meditate in the Kingdom by the sea and want to know if they found Eldorado.
Shall I compare you to the summer's night
My beautiful Anabel Lee?
Shall I take the Road less traveled
In search of Eldorado?
Or shall I compare you to the summer's day
When I seek Eldorado?
Shall I take every road
In search of my Anabel Lee
In this kingdom by the sea?
Shall I find Eldorado in my beautiful Anabel Lee?
Or shall I stop in the middle of the Forest,
In the middle of my journey,
And weep because of Senza Luna
In the Jungle and in my heart?
For I had lost the path that does not stray
'Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
Che la dirrita via era smarrita.'
Or shall I remember that
'My soul sang of metamorphoses?
before the sea and lands began to be,
before the sky had mantled every thing,
then all of nature's face was featureless—
what men call chaos: undigested mass
of crude, confused, and scumbled elements,
a heap of seeds that clashed, of things mismatched.
There was no Titan Sun to light the world,
No crescent Moon.'
Shall I dwell in this dark forest?
Or shall I seek the kingdom by the sea to see
'When young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more'?
'The true Mother of Romans, joy of gods and men, was born,
the first true woman, Venus, life giver, who under planet and star
visits the ship-clad sea, the grain-clothed land
always. For through you all that's born and breathes
is gotten, created, brought forth to see the sun,
Lady, the storms and clouds of heaven shun you,
You and your advent. Earth sweet magic-maker,
Sends up her flowers for you, broad Ocean smiles,
And peace glows in the light that fills the sky.'
Our desires flew like birds in the mornings
When we were waked by the bells of dreams
Hypnotized and ready for another round of living
We would walk down the street of a foreign city mesmerized
By our own history seen on the streets and in the gardens
Filled with exotic flowers and the grass; you loved the grass
You said you would teach me everything
I never found out really what but I accepted you as mentor
To learn whatever might be
I accepted the usual, but unusual, ways of life
And lived a life I never thought I would.
It became a typhoon passing through paradise.
You accepted my gifts but perhaps not my ideas
I thought I knew you
Although I hardly knew if I knew myself;
I learned to accept your unusual, but usual, ways
Your strange thoughts about living and dreaming and mixing living with dreams
I learned to like your usual ways of presenting unusual desires
What about psychology?
There is no way to analyze the brain machine,
Billions of cells, transmitters, and neutrons
Flying, fighting, competing
How do ideas come to life?
That was another hard question.
I was not able to find out anything about anything,
Except that I was alive and felt alive and yet felt dead as well;
I watched rain, fog, horses, birds, and trees, and I watched the blue;
I really loved watching the blue every day;
You loved the same, although maybe for different reasons;
Maybe we loved each other for different reasons too.
Did we hate each other?
I felt I hated you not a few times.
Did you hate me? Maybe you did as well sometimes
And maybe you still hate me
When you think of that July when the blue was everywhere
With the white dot in the middle, shining like the first time
When everything was green
And you were glistening in the middle of the blue, the green, the summer,
But I was not there.