I came across this poem in my first year English class at Brock and have never forgotten it, nor will I ever. I love it because it’s so different from Shakespeare‘s other poems and shows how he actually could, from time to time, be down to earth! There’s a realness about this poem and, as I learned and thoroughly enjoyed, this poem is also a commentary on poetry itself. Enjoy!
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
I just recently came upon this brilliant poem while doing some research for my blog on Billy Collins.It’s one of those short poems that takes you 45 seconds to read and about 45 years to get over. It made me smile and think; it’s one of those poems that can just take you to a hundred different places. To travel by poetry …
I Go Back to the House for a Book
I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the doctor’s office, and while I am inside, running the finger of inquisition along a shelf, another me that did not bother to go back to the house for a book heads out on his own, rolls down the driveway, and swings left toward town, a ghost in his ghost car, another knot in the string of time, a good three minutes ahead of me — a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrows of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.I love you as the plant that never bloomsbut carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;so I love you because there is no other waythan this: where I does not exist, nor you,so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
A city mouse darts from the paws of night.A body drops from the jaws of night.A woman denies the law of night,Awkae and trapped in the was of night.A young man turns in the gauze of night,Unravelling the cause of night:That days extend their claws at nightTo re-enact old wars at night,Though dreams can heal old sores at nightAnd Spring begins its thaw at night.While worry bones are gnawed at night.He sps her through a straw at night.Verbs whisper in the cluase of night.A finger to her lips,the pause of night.
piyis ekwas e-tipiskak ekwaoh, ekwa ka-kimiwahk,ka-kimiwahkeart smells, love medicineseeping into my bonesand I knewhis wind voicecathcingthe sleeping leavesoh, ekwa ka-kimiwahk,ka-kimiwahkI dreamedhim weaving spider threadsinto my hair,fingers of fireflybuzzing ears, the songhis flutestealing clouds from my eyeska-kimiwahkI wokenumb in my bones.piyis ekwa e-tipiskak ekwaoh, ekwa ka-kimiwahk,ka-kimiwahkAt last it was nightoh, and it rained,it rained