Free Thread, Half-Past Feb
February 14, 2022 8:34 AM Subscribe
This Is Just To Say
I'm looking for
the poems
that are in
the thread
but I guess
you are probably
saving them
for later
Forgive me
I hope they're iambic
so free
and so thread
posted by chavenet at 8:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [28 favorites]
I'm looking for
the poems
that are in
the thread
but I guess
you are probably
saving them
for later
Forgive me
I hope they're iambic
so free
and so thread
posted by chavenet at 8:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [28 favorites]
So I took my mom out grocery shopping this weekend and saw some Valentine's Day roses in inverted globes - like a rose in a snow globe, without the snow. Weird. Googling around it looks like it's a thing, but I'd never seen them before.
posted by Kyol at 8:41 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Kyol at 8:41 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
The Bureau of Labor Statistics
Has been taken over by mystics
Whose way is to say
That your pay for the day
Has no actual characteristics.
-William Harmon
posted by thelonius at 8:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Has been taken over by mystics
Whose way is to say
That your pay for the day
Has no actual characteristics.
-William Harmon
posted by thelonius at 8:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Is it wrong to throw pennies in the garbage?
posted by snofoam at 8:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by snofoam at 8:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
The guy behind me at the grocery store yesterday was buying a dozen roses and a fifth of Jameson's Irish whiskey. Nothing else.
I'm kind of wondering how his evening went. Maybe it's still going.
posted by JoeZydeco at 8:43 AM on February 14, 2022 [21 favorites]
I'm kind of wondering how his evening went. Maybe it's still going.
posted by JoeZydeco at 8:43 AM on February 14, 2022 [21 favorites]
Giving Up Smoking
There’s not a Shakespeare sonnet
Or a Beethoven quartet
That’s easier to like than you
Or harder to forget.
You think that sounds extravagant?
I haven’t finished yet —
I like you more than I would like
To have a cigarette.
— Wendy Cope
posted by MonkeyToes at 8:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
There’s not a Shakespeare sonnet
Or a Beethoven quartet
That’s easier to like than you
Or harder to forget.
You think that sounds extravagant?
I haven’t finished yet —
I like you more than I would like
To have a cigarette.
— Wendy Cope
posted by MonkeyToes at 8:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Is it wrong to throw pennies in the garbage?
Yes.
Pennies should only be thrown in fountains.
posted by box at 8:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Yes.
Pennies should only be thrown in fountains.
posted by box at 8:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
There once was a man from Nantucket
posted by Going To Maine at 8:51 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Going To Maine at 8:51 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
we who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting
as a group
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift
your analyst is
in on it
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us
in announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves
but since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make
unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your
disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective
Phillip Lopate
posted by zamboni at 8:51 AM on February 14, 2022 [27 favorites]
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting
as a group
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift
your analyst is
in on it
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us
in announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves
but since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make
unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your
disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective
Phillip Lopate
posted by zamboni at 8:51 AM on February 14, 2022 [27 favorites]
Three coins in the fountain
Each one seeking happiness
Until they're hoovered up
By a municipal worker on minimum pay
posted by urbanwhaleshark at 8:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Each one seeking happiness
Until they're hoovered up
By a municipal worker on minimum pay
posted by urbanwhaleshark at 8:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem
Written by Matthew Olzmann
Listen
So here’s what I’ve got, the reasons why our marriage
might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
Because you think swans are overrated and kind of stupid.
Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
Because you underline everything you read, and circle
the things you think are important, and put stars next
to the things you think I should think are important,
and write notes in the margins about all the people
you’re mad at and my name almost never appears there.
Because you made that pork recipe you found
in the Frida Kahlo Cookbook. Because when you read
that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
over the windows, you still believe someone outside
can see you. And one day five summers ago,
when you couldn’t put gas in your car, when your fridge
was so empty—not even leftovers or condiments—
there was a single twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew,
which you paid for with your last damn dime
because you once overheard me say that I liked it.
posted by Jeanne at 8:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [24 favorites]
Written by Matthew Olzmann
Listen
So here’s what I’ve got, the reasons why our marriage
might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
Because you think swans are overrated and kind of stupid.
Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
Because you underline everything you read, and circle
the things you think are important, and put stars next
to the things you think I should think are important,
and write notes in the margins about all the people
you’re mad at and my name almost never appears there.
Because you made that pork recipe you found
in the Frida Kahlo Cookbook. Because when you read
that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
over the windows, you still believe someone outside
can see you. And one day five summers ago,
when you couldn’t put gas in your car, when your fridge
was so empty—not even leftovers or condiments—
there was a single twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew,
which you paid for with your last damn dime
because you once overheard me say that I liked it.
posted by Jeanne at 8:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [24 favorites]
This Valentine’s Day, the Academy of American Poets, the producer of Poets.org, invites you to share more love poems. Here are fourteen selections by poets past and present from its curated collection of more than 100 for the upcoming occasion:haven't opened 'em all yet but so far i vote chen chen<3
“Lunch Break” by Francisco Aragón
“i love you to the moon &” by Chen Chen
“Love Comes Quietly” by Robert Creeley
“In That Other Fantasy Where We Live Forever” by Wanda Coleman
“If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert” by Natalie Diaz
“I Saw You” by Joshua Henry Jones, Jr.
“She Walks in Beauty” by George Gordon Byron
“Recurrence” by Dorothy Parker
“In the Heart of a Rose” by George Marion McClellan
“Sonnets from the Cherokee (I)” by Ruth Muskrat Bronson
“Sink Your Fingers into the Darkness of my Fur” by Ellen Bass
“Will You?” by Carrie Fountain
“Love Elegy in the Chinese Garden, with Koi” by Nathan McClain
“Song Out Here” by Juan Felipe Herrera
posted by youarenothere at 8:57 AM on February 14, 2022 [10 favorites]
"If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert" is a banger too.
posted by Jeanne at 8:59 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by Jeanne at 8:59 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Ewa Demarczyk - Deszcze - the poem she sings and the translation is in the link
posted by pyramid termite at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022
posted by pyramid termite at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022
So much depends
upon
a red paper
heart
cut with safety
scissors
glued on white
cardboard
posted by Deathalicious at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022 [18 favorites]
upon
a red paper
heart
cut with safety
scissors
glued on white
cardboard
posted by Deathalicious at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022 [18 favorites]
Cockroach Philosophy
I dwell in the cracks.
I dine on the crumbs.
I scuttle away
When the light comes on.
posted by jim in austin at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I dwell in the cracks.
I dine on the crumbs.
I scuttle away
When the light comes on.
posted by jim in austin at 9:00 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man,
And as for the bucket - Nan tuck it.
posted by Greg_Ace at 9:02 AM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
Who kept all his cash in a bucket
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man,
And as for the bucket - Nan tuck it.
posted by Greg_Ace at 9:02 AM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
In January, during our Omicron peak, my local coffee shop switched to pick-up orders only. I don't actually make it in much, but I made a point of getting an latte and a baked good 2 to 3 times a week while they were doing pick-up only, because I am certain they were bringing in less business that way than the "usual" even in covid-times. (just while waiting 2 minutes in my car for my pick-up to be ready, I'd often see someone look at the signs, decide it wasn't worth their trouble, and walk away)
Today when I went in, the inside seating was open. It was such a joy to briefly chat with my barista about something completely mundane. I almost cried. And I got my preferred, a drip hazelnut.
posted by the antecedent of that pronoun at 9:05 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Today when I went in, the inside seating was open. It was such a joy to briefly chat with my barista about something completely mundane. I almost cried. And I got my preferred, a drip hazelnut.
posted by the antecedent of that pronoun at 9:05 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
The one-L jubilee,
It's a feast
that's been declared
by a priest.
And I will bet,
quite confidently,
there isn't any
two-L jubilee.
* The author's attention has been called to the existance of an offensive slur that might count, and also the fact that he has spelled the word differently every time he's made an attempt here so far and will surely accidentally include one with two Ls at least once before the month is over. Pooh.
(I am now planning to make the spelling weirder every time until it's entirely incomprehensible. This is a month when we're resolved of all metafilter sin, right? Happy Yuvuilli!)
posted by eotvos at 9:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
It's a feast
that's been declared
by a priest.
And I will bet,
quite confidently,
there isn't any
two-L jubilee.
* The author's attention has been called to the existance of an offensive slur that might count, and also the fact that he has spelled the word differently every time he's made an attempt here so far and will surely accidentally include one with two Ls at least once before the month is over. Pooh.
(I am now planning to make the spelling weirder every time until it's entirely incomprehensible. This is a month when we're resolved of all metafilter sin, right? Happy Yuvuilli!)
posted by eotvos at 9:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
My last name is Brown and I live in a town that is primarily an Olde-Towne Tourist Trappe and the other night on our local friends group text somebody asked what the Olde Towne Brownes were doing and in a fit of creativity I wrote this poem in response, which only my wife thought was funny:
Whan children goon to beddrest and al’s quiet
Min mind doth turne to glaedness of the Niht
mayhap this eve the lusty wyfe of Browne
‘Twill dance betweonen the sheets to Towne of Pounde
posted by saladin at 9:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Whan children goon to beddrest and al’s quiet
Min mind doth turne to glaedness of the Niht
mayhap this eve the lusty wyfe of Browne
‘Twill dance betweonen the sheets to Towne of Pounde
posted by saladin at 9:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I could never marry someone who writes in books.
posted by thelonius at 9:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
posted by thelonius at 9:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
I Love You Sweatheart
A man risked his life to write the words.
A man hung upside down (an idiot friend
holding his legs?) with spray paint
to write the words on a girder fifty feet above
a highway. And his beloved,
the next morning driving to work...?
His words are not (meant to be) so unique.
Does she recognize his handwriting?
Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before
of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?
And did he call her at work
expecting her to faint with delight
at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?
She will know I love her now,
the world will know my love for her!
A man risked his life to write the world.
Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love
is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb
and dangerous, ignited, blessed--always,
regardless, no exceptions,
always in blazing matters like these: blessed.
— Thomas Lux
posted by rorgy at 9:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
A man risked his life to write the words.
A man hung upside down (an idiot friend
holding his legs?) with spray paint
to write the words on a girder fifty feet above
a highway. And his beloved,
the next morning driving to work...?
His words are not (meant to be) so unique.
Does she recognize his handwriting?
Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before
of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?
And did he call her at work
expecting her to faint with delight
at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?
She will know I love her now,
the world will know my love for her!
A man risked his life to write the world.
Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love
is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb
and dangerous, ignited, blessed--always,
regardless, no exceptions,
always in blazing matters like these: blessed.
— Thomas Lux
posted by rorgy at 9:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Roses are sometimes red
and sometimes not
Violets are blue I think,
when was the last time I saw one?
I'm still trying to get my ass in gear
and mail out Valentimes* cards
but oh my toes
It's cold today
Here's some love on a page
* I really will get these things mailed I swear
posted by winesong at 9:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
and sometimes not
Violets are blue I think,
when was the last time I saw one?
I'm still trying to get my ass in gear
and mail out Valentimes* cards
but oh my toes
It's cold today
Here's some love on a page
* I really will get these things mailed I swear
posted by winesong at 9:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
ONCE WAS
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who said:
Look, I have a few things to say.
First of all, limericks?
I hate 'em. Fuckin' hate 'em.
Always have, even before I started to, you know...
grow.
And let's talk about that.
Let's talk about the, you know...
thing.
Do you think that that's a good thing?
That it's that long?
Oh, sure, autofellatio.
Moderately entertaining, for a while, when I was a teen.
But now? Not so much.
Bad news: everything gets old, after a while.
Everything.
Not a zoophile. I make that very clear.
But people still make the suggestion.
And "if my ear was a" what?
I kind of want my ears to stay ears.
They work better as a pair.
No, no real silver lining, sorry.
All I can say is:
be careful what you wish for.
Sometimes you get only one.
posted by Halloween Jack at 9:14 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who said:
Look, I have a few things to say.
First of all, limericks?
I hate 'em. Fuckin' hate 'em.
Always have, even before I started to, you know...
grow.
And let's talk about that.
Let's talk about the, you know...
thing.
Do you think that that's a good thing?
That it's that long?
Oh, sure, autofellatio.
Moderately entertaining, for a while, when I was a teen.
But now? Not so much.
Bad news: everything gets old, after a while.
Everything.
Not a zoophile. I make that very clear.
But people still make the suggestion.
And "if my ear was a" what?
I kind of want my ears to stay ears.
They work better as a pair.
No, no real silver lining, sorry.
All I can say is:
be careful what you wish for.
Sometimes you get only one.
posted by Halloween Jack at 9:14 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
This Close
In the room where we lie, light
stains the drawn shades yellow.
We sweat and pull at each other, climb
with our fingers the slippery ladders of rib.
Wherever our bodies touch, the flesh
comes alive. Heat and need, like invisible
animals, gnaw at my breasts, the soft
insides of your thighs. What I want
I simply reach out and take, no delicacy now,
the dark human bread I eat handful
by greedy handful. Eyes, fingers, mouths,
sweet leeches of desire. Crazy woman,
her brain full of bees, see how her palms curl
into fists and beat the pillow senseless.
And when my body finally gives in to it
then pulls itself away, salt-laced
and arched with its final ache, I am
so grateful I would give you anything, anything.
If I loved you, being this close would kill me.
--Dorianne Laux
posted by joannemerriam at 9:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
In the room where we lie, light
stains the drawn shades yellow.
We sweat and pull at each other, climb
with our fingers the slippery ladders of rib.
Wherever our bodies touch, the flesh
comes alive. Heat and need, like invisible
animals, gnaw at my breasts, the soft
insides of your thighs. What I want
I simply reach out and take, no delicacy now,
the dark human bread I eat handful
by greedy handful. Eyes, fingers, mouths,
sweet leeches of desire. Crazy woman,
her brain full of bees, see how her palms curl
into fists and beat the pillow senseless.
And when my body finally gives in to it
then pulls itself away, salt-laced
and arched with its final ache, I am
so grateful I would give you anything, anything.
If I loved you, being this close would kill me.
--Dorianne Laux
posted by joannemerriam at 9:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Hey check out the ass on that guy he’s got a really hot ass
I’d like to see his ass naked with his hot naked ass
Hey check out her hot ass that chick’s got a hot ass
she’s a red hot ass chick I want to touch it
Hey check out the ass on that old man
that’s one hot old man ass
look at his ass his ass his old man ass
Hey check out that dog’s ass
wow that dog’s ass is hot
that dog’s got a hot dog ass
I want to squeeze that dog’s hot dog ass
like a ball but a hot ball a hot ass ball
Hey check out the ass on that bird
how’s a bird get a hot ass like that
that’s one hot ass bird ass
I want to put that bird’s hot ass in my mouth
and swish it around and around and around
Hey check out the ass on that bike
damn that bike’s ass it h-o-t
you ever see a bike with an ass that hot
I want to put my hot ass on that bike’s hot ass and make a double hot ass bike ass
Hey check out that building
it’s got a really really really hot ass
and the doorman and the ladies in the information booth and the guy in the elevator got themselves a butt load of hot ass
I want to wrap my arms around the whole hot ass building and squeeze myself right through its hot ass and out the other side
I want to get me a hot ass piece of all 86 floors of hot hot hot hot ass!
- Jennifer L. Knox, "Hot Ass Poem"
posted by daisystomper at 9:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [13 favorites]
I’d like to see his ass naked with his hot naked ass
Hey check out her hot ass that chick’s got a hot ass
she’s a red hot ass chick I want to touch it
Hey check out the ass on that old man
that’s one hot old man ass
look at his ass his ass his old man ass
Hey check out that dog’s ass
wow that dog’s ass is hot
that dog’s got a hot dog ass
I want to squeeze that dog’s hot dog ass
like a ball but a hot ball a hot ass ball
Hey check out the ass on that bird
how’s a bird get a hot ass like that
that’s one hot ass bird ass
I want to put that bird’s hot ass in my mouth
and swish it around and around and around
Hey check out the ass on that bike
damn that bike’s ass it h-o-t
you ever see a bike with an ass that hot
I want to put my hot ass on that bike’s hot ass and make a double hot ass bike ass
Hey check out that building
it’s got a really really really hot ass
and the doorman and the ladies in the information booth and the guy in the elevator got themselves a butt load of hot ass
I want to wrap my arms around the whole hot ass building and squeeze myself right through its hot ass and out the other side
I want to get me a hot ass piece of all 86 floors of hot hot hot hot ass!
- Jennifer L. Knox, "Hot Ass Poem"
posted by daisystomper at 9:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [13 favorites]
My husband, Mr. Terrier,
Is neither a blacksmith nor a ferrier.
He is, in fact, a pianist;
Quite good but not the very best.
He recently had a tumor
Removed from his tongue; that’s no rumor!
He is learning to speak with a trache
And a valve with which words to make.
His spirits are high, and he’s cancer-free
I couldn’t be gladder! Neither can he.
Still hospitalized for a while…
I’m eager to see his smile
Here at home where he belongs
Where there are no rights or wrongs.
posted by BostonTerrier at 9:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [19 favorites]
Is neither a blacksmith nor a ferrier.
He is, in fact, a pianist;
Quite good but not the very best.
He recently had a tumor
Removed from his tongue; that’s no rumor!
He is learning to speak with a trache
And a valve with which words to make.
His spirits are high, and he’s cancer-free
I couldn’t be gladder! Neither can he.
Still hospitalized for a while…
I’m eager to see his smile
Here at home where he belongs
Where there are no rights or wrongs.
posted by BostonTerrier at 9:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [19 favorites]
Written over the weekend for a friend who posted a pic of their painted Etrigan figurine:
Etrigan, Etrigan,
Doin’ the things an Etri can,
Belches flame, speaks in rhyme,
Trapped as human half the time,
Watch out! Watch out for Etrigan!
posted by notoriety public at 9:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Etrigan, Etrigan,
Doin’ the things an Etri can,
Belches flame, speaks in rhyme,
Trapped as human half the time,
Watch out! Watch out for Etrigan!
posted by notoriety public at 9:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
If castration rewarded greatness
Such an honor to hear:
They're off!
This is a real poem, but I still don't remember who wrote it.
posted by DirtyOldTown at 9:20 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Such an honor to hear:
They're off!
This is a real poem, but I still don't remember who wrote it.
posted by DirtyOldTown at 9:20 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Y'are an idiot
Y'are a bitch
Ya shit me to tears
I'm goin' down the pub
— Mick
posted by flabdablet at 9:24 AM on February 14, 2022
Y'are a bitch
Ya shit me to tears
I'm goin' down the pub
— Mick
posted by flabdablet at 9:24 AM on February 14, 2022
Two Sundays ago I went for a walk.
Then I went to the E.R.
Doc said my BP was high.
I was not having a great day
and I allowed as how that might explain my BP.
He said I should still have it checked.
Then he offered me Ibuprofen.
I declined the offer.
The following Wednesday, I went to the orthopedist.
Orthopedist said my BP was 106/64.
That's legit decent BP for a 52 yr old woman like me...
according to Dr. Google, anyway.
After having me pick a color,
the ortho told me I was fat.
She suggested I take up walking.
posted by which_chick at 9:25 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Then I went to the E.R.
Doc said my BP was high.
I was not having a great day
and I allowed as how that might explain my BP.
He said I should still have it checked.
Then he offered me Ibuprofen.
I declined the offer.
The following Wednesday, I went to the orthopedist.
Orthopedist said my BP was 106/64.
That's legit decent BP for a 52 yr old woman like me...
according to Dr. Google, anyway.
After having me pick a color,
the ortho told me I was fat.
She suggested I take up walking.
posted by which_chick at 9:25 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Pennies? You toss them in an old coffee can an put it into the fire down in the coals and it looks like nothing happens until you poke it with a stick and it turns into a blob of molten metal (zinc) the ones that don't are copper. So you make a design of something in the dirt and make it look pretty and pour out the can to make you're own personal zinc casting of something interesting.
posted by zengargoyle at 9:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
posted by zengargoyle at 9:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
Roses are red
Violets are blue*
I made Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, baked beans,
Spam, Spam, Spam and Spam for you.
*Not really
posted by Tehhund at 9:32 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
Violets are blue*
I made Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, baked beans,
Spam, Spam, Spam and Spam for you.
*Not really
posted by Tehhund at 9:32 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
What's he like?
It's not important.
Particle Man.
posted by whatevernot at 9:33 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
It's not important.
Particle Man.
posted by whatevernot at 9:33 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
You're okay too
posted by allegedly at 9:35 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
You're okay too
posted by allegedly at 9:35 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
BY C. P. CAVAFY
It turns out this was Jackie Kennedy's favorite poem. It makes sense. I learnt of Cavafy from reading The Alexandria Quartet when I was a precocious teenager. I liked the sound of it, though I had no idea what it meant.
There is a recording of Sean Connery reading Ithaka, but unfortunately, I can only find it with Vangelis background music.
posted by mumimor at 9:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
BY C. P. CAVAFY
It turns out this was Jackie Kennedy's favorite poem. It makes sense. I learnt of Cavafy from reading The Alexandria Quartet when I was a precocious teenager. I liked the sound of it, though I had no idea what it meant.
There is a recording of Sean Connery reading Ithaka, but unfortunately, I can only find it with Vangelis background music.
posted by mumimor at 9:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
so when I moved to Minneapolis last summer, it turns out that by accident I moved into a place about half a mile from the Nordicware factory. (I say by accident because I certainly had no idea.) They have a factory seconds store, which is terribly dangerous because my spouse is a long-time devotee of their cookware and collects interesting cooking and baking equipment as a hobby. Friday was my spouse's birthday, so I swung by as part of other errands to pick up maybe a nice loaf pan or something.
the clerk let me know that on Monday [today], they go half off on all the factory seconds, and was I sure I wouldn't like to come back then?
anyway I showed up this morning and was very polite with a wish list from my spouse (sleeping, working tonight) and several friends (not local to here) and purchased everything on the list. I was easily the youngest person in the room by about twenty years, everyone was extremely nice to one another (and to me) and I made off like a bandit with a lot of bee-themed bakeware and also a whole pan designed to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull.
also two pans that do cakelets like little brains: one for me to keep and one for me to win the next lab white elephant with.
I got PLANS.
posted by sciatrix at 9:37 AM on February 14, 2022 [35 favorites]
the clerk let me know that on Monday [today], they go half off on all the factory seconds, and was I sure I wouldn't like to come back then?
anyway I showed up this morning and was very polite with a wish list from my spouse (sleeping, working tonight) and several friends (not local to here) and purchased everything on the list. I was easily the youngest person in the room by about twenty years, everyone was extremely nice to one another (and to me) and I made off like a bandit with a lot of bee-themed bakeware and also a whole pan designed to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull.
also two pans that do cakelets like little brains: one for me to keep and one for me to win the next lab white elephant with.
I got PLANS.
posted by sciatrix at 9:37 AM on February 14, 2022 [35 favorites]
Or, the copper ones... Kids don't try at home.... you put them on the railroad track and let the train run over them and then go look for it to find a nice flat penny. Strangely(not) enough it ends up flatter that putting it under the strongest metal bending press east of the Mississippi River because it's a squish while rolling and not just squash. Damn now I wonder what a penny would look like after The Hydraulic Press YouTuber's.
posted by zengargoyle at 9:38 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by zengargoyle at 9:38 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Get in the van
I’ve got a gun
(Those cake pans sound amazing.)
posted by HotToddy at 9:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are blue
Get in the van
I’ve got a gun
(Those cake pans sound amazing.)
posted by HotToddy at 9:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Telephone Booth (number 905 1/2)
by Pedro Pietri
woke up this morning
feeling excellent,
picked up the telephone
dialed the number of
my equal opportunity employer
to inform him I will not
be into work today
Are you feeling sick?
the boss asked me
No Sir I replied:
I am feeling too good
to report to work today,
if I feel sick tomorrow
I will come in early
posted by chavenet at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [16 favorites]
by Pedro Pietri
woke up this morning
feeling excellent,
picked up the telephone
dialed the number of
my equal opportunity employer
to inform him I will not
be into work today
Are you feeling sick?
the boss asked me
No Sir I replied:
I am feeling too good
to report to work today,
if I feel sick tomorrow
I will come in early
posted by chavenet at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [16 favorites]
my name is Cow,
and wen its nite,
or wen the moon
is shiyning brite,
and all the men
haf gon to bed -
i stay up late.
i lik the thred.
posted by fedward at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [19 favorites]
and wen its nite,
or wen the moon
is shiyning brite,
and all the men
haf gon to bed -
i stay up late.
i lik the thred.
posted by fedward at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [19 favorites]
Do yourself a favor and check out this webcomic's Harry Potter-themed Valentine's Day comics. Then check out the rest of their comics, they're great.
posted by Tehhund at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by Tehhund at 9:42 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
In the plaza
we walk
under the Mexican moon
full of tangerine smells
a cart pulls over
full of the fruit
full of the moon
and the lonely star
so we buy two
but he says
three for a peso
but we buy two
tangerines peeled
we walk
hand in hand
spitting the seeds
for future tangerines
and more lovers to be
in the plaza
we walk
under the Mexican moon
- Nepthali de Leon
I read this years ago in the neighbor kids' school compilation book and it always stuck with me visually. I'm stuck recovering from surgery so nibbles like this are where my attention span is. Thank you sharers of art!
posted by cobaltnine at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
we walk
under the Mexican moon
full of tangerine smells
a cart pulls over
full of the fruit
full of the moon
and the lonely star
so we buy two
but he says
three for a peso
but we buy two
tangerines peeled
we walk
hand in hand
spitting the seeds
for future tangerines
and more lovers to be
in the plaza
we walk
under the Mexican moon
- Nepthali de Leon
I read this years ago in the neighbor kids' school compilation book and it always stuck with me visually. I'm stuck recovering from surgery so nibbles like this are where my attention span is. Thank you sharers of art!
posted by cobaltnine at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Roses are red
except when they're not.
Poems can rhyme
but I prefer free verse.
It's actually really fun to write to form sometimes, and I haven't done it in ages. Maybe I'll try to write a terrible villanelle before this thread closes and foist it upon y'all.
posted by the primroses were over at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
except when they're not.
Poems can rhyme
but I prefer free verse.
It's actually really fun to write to form sometimes, and I haven't done it in ages. Maybe I'll try to write a terrible villanelle before this thread closes and foist it upon y'all.
posted by the primroses were over at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
I sing this to my cat every day, but swap out verses:
Little kitty
Lives in the city
Looking so cute
In his little fur suit
Petting his belly
Feels like jelly
If you get too grabby
He gets stabby
posted by emjaybee at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [11 favorites]
Little kitty
Lives in the city
Looking so cute
In his little fur suit
Petting his belly
Feels like jelly
If you get too grabby
He gets stabby
posted by emjaybee at 9:46 AM on February 14, 2022 [11 favorites]
Rage, rage against the closing of the thread.
posted by box at 9:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
posted by box at 9:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
also two pans that do cakelets like little brains: one for me to keep and one for me to win the next lab
Ok I think I've got these cakelet pans. The trick to getting the sulcal definition is to let the batter sit for a bit before pouring. Overspraying and fresh batter = too many bubbles and poor definition. Madelines seemed like a good idea but I was disappointed. They do rise like madelines so my next trial will be filling them.
posted by cobaltnine at 9:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Ok I think I've got these cakelet pans. The trick to getting the sulcal definition is to let the batter sit for a bit before pouring. Overspraying and fresh batter = too many bubbles and poor definition. Madelines seemed like a good idea but I was disappointed. They do rise like madelines so my next trial will be filling them.
posted by cobaltnine at 9:50 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me.
Ogden Nash
To My Valentine
posted by nickmark at 9:52 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me.
Ogden Nash
To My Valentine
posted by nickmark at 9:52 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Roses are red
Blood is much redder
Shakespeare's young lovers
Could not get much deader
posted by cortex at 9:52 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Blood is much redder
Shakespeare's young lovers
Could not get much deader
posted by cortex at 9:52 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
sciatrix, I have one glorious Minneapolis story that starts in Topeka Kansas and a gutter punk knocking on my door and ends up with me several days later crashing in a girl's floor dorm at the University of Kansas in Lawrence hanging out for a few days. It involves the Minneapolis College of Art and Design - Wikipedia, it involves at least bi SHARPs and three-way invitations. That was one wild long weekend that was glorious fun. I got my nose pierced.
posted by zengargoyle at 9:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by zengargoyle at 9:55 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Roses are thorny
Alders and junipers are horny
So the air is pure polleny
And I can neither breathe nor swalleny
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:59 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Alders and junipers are horny
So the air is pure polleny
And I can neither breathe nor swalleny
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:59 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Two love poems: one cynical, one not.
COMMENT
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea,
And love is a thing that can never go wrong -
And I am Marie of Romania.
-- Dorothy Parker
---
HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with gold and with silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light -
I would spread the cloths under your feet.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams.
I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Tread soft, because you tread on my dreams.
-- W.B. Yeats
---
I've been single more often than not on Valentine's days, and today is no different. But I've gone from bemoaning that fate, to playing up the single status for giggles, to....just plain not really caring. In fact: here's a final poem, or rather song lyrics which pretty much sum up where I am - this is a song from the film GIGI, a song which I completely and totally fell in love with when I heard it because I get it profoundly.
--
How lovely to sit here in the shade
With none of the woes of man and maid -
I'm glad I'm not young anymore!
The rivals that don't exist at all,
The feeling you're only two feet tall -
I'm glad that I'm not young anymore!
No more confusion, no morning-after surprise
No self-delusion
That when you're telling those lies, she isn't wise
And even if love comes through the door
The kind that goes on forevermore -
Forevermore is shorter than before!
Oh, I'm so glad that I'm not young anymore!
The tiny remark that tortures you,
The fear that your friends won't like her too -
I'm glad I'm not young anymore!
The longing to end the stale affair
Until you find out she doesn't care!
I'm glad that I'm not young anymore!
No more frustration, no star-crossed lover am I
No aggravation
Just one reluctant reply: "Lady, goodbye!"
The Fountain of Youth is dull as paint
Methuselah is my patron saint -
I've never been so comfortable before!
Oh, I'm so glad that I'm not young anymore!
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:01 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
COMMENT
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea,
And love is a thing that can never go wrong -
And I am Marie of Romania.
-- Dorothy Parker
---
HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with gold and with silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light -
I would spread the cloths under your feet.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams.
I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Tread soft, because you tread on my dreams.
-- W.B. Yeats
---
I've been single more often than not on Valentine's days, and today is no different. But I've gone from bemoaning that fate, to playing up the single status for giggles, to....just plain not really caring. In fact: here's a final poem, or rather song lyrics which pretty much sum up where I am - this is a song from the film GIGI, a song which I completely and totally fell in love with when I heard it because I get it profoundly.
--
How lovely to sit here in the shade
With none of the woes of man and maid -
I'm glad I'm not young anymore!
The rivals that don't exist at all,
The feeling you're only two feet tall -
I'm glad that I'm not young anymore!
No more confusion, no morning-after surprise
No self-delusion
That when you're telling those lies, she isn't wise
And even if love comes through the door
The kind that goes on forevermore -
Forevermore is shorter than before!
Oh, I'm so glad that I'm not young anymore!
The tiny remark that tortures you,
The fear that your friends won't like her too -
I'm glad I'm not young anymore!
The longing to end the stale affair
Until you find out she doesn't care!
I'm glad that I'm not young anymore!
No more frustration, no star-crossed lover am I
No aggravation
Just one reluctant reply: "Lady, goodbye!"
The Fountain of Youth is dull as paint
Methuselah is my patron saint -
I've never been so comfortable before!
Oh, I'm so glad that I'm not young anymore!
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:01 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Gonna set something up, wanna see if we can knock it out of the park.
My words rained over you, stroking you
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of you body
Until I even believe that you own the universe
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains,
bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
posted by Going To Maine at 10:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
My words rained over you, stroking you
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of you body
Until I even believe that you own the universe
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains,
bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
posted by Going To Maine at 10:06 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I have a draft Ask MeFi asking for folks' favorite takes on "Roses are red, violets are blue" poems. What perfect timing!
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
TL; DR,
They differ in hue.
posted by kinsey at 10:12 AM on February 14, 2022 [26 favorites]
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
TL; DR,
They differ in hue.
posted by kinsey at 10:12 AM on February 14, 2022 [26 favorites]
I remember when it first circumstanced,
this problem that routines with my words:
I was in the kitchen, plating my food,
when my nouns conversioned to verbs.
I friended others with similar troubles
and we workshopped together for days.
Dialoguing in search of solutions,
as the long hours flipcharted away.
I now diarise each time they event.
Are they nerbs or vouns? I'm not sure.
The doctors cannot medication me.
Even to poem provisions no cure.
At a World Cup for languaging weirdly
or a verbing-renowned Olypmics,
I'd have podiumed - I'm in no doubt -
if it weren't for those medalling kids.
Brian Bilston
posted by Wrinkled Stumpskin at 10:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [13 favorites]
this problem that routines with my words:
I was in the kitchen, plating my food,
when my nouns conversioned to verbs.
I friended others with similar troubles
and we workshopped together for days.
Dialoguing in search of solutions,
as the long hours flipcharted away.
I now diarise each time they event.
Are they nerbs or vouns? I'm not sure.
The doctors cannot medication me.
Even to poem provisions no cure.
At a World Cup for languaging weirdly
or a verbing-renowned Olypmics,
I'd have podiumed - I'm in no doubt -
if it weren't for those medalling kids.
Brian Bilston
posted by Wrinkled Stumpskin at 10:16 AM on February 14, 2022 [13 favorites]
a whole pan designed to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull.
Uff da!
posted by Halloween Jack at 10:17 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Uff da!
posted by Halloween Jack at 10:17 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Unironic pick: It's hard to choose a favoritest or favouritest, but I love this love poem by Pablo Neruda so much. If you don't want to eat your lover's skin like a whole almond, you need to keep looking.
posted by taz at 10:18 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I Crave Your MouthEvery single line, every image just kills me. So perfect. So beautiful. So burning. And I know this feeling ... when all the usual metaphors for passion seem so weak and inadequate, and only an insatiable stalking puma will do. :D (laughing, but also not)
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
posted by taz at 10:18 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Roses are red
Violets are purple
Sugar is sweet
And so's maple surple
posted by Greg_Ace at 10:24 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
Violets are purple
Sugar is sweet
And so's maple surple
posted by Greg_Ace at 10:24 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
As a person who has been unpartnered for decades, I was toying this year with the idea of coming up with an alternative celebratory something, possibly based on reading up on the life of St. Valentine, maybe even making a donation to a charity that seemed appropriate to what he was about. I'm also Catholic, and I really love all the lore about saints. I thought about creating an Ask for ideas. But then I forgot about it, and here I am.
I don't begrudge the romantically involved their day, and this is not coming from a place of bitterness at all, but since it's based on a religious holiday, it seems like there could be something for people who want to observe it in some way but who don't have partners (not excluding nonreligious people - it could be sort of like Christmas where people who aren't religious take what they want from it). One year I had a party for all of my single female friends, which was a blast (we made dinner and watched How to Marry a Millionaire). I'm immunocompromised and there's still a pandemic, so that was a no go this year.
I feel like there should be some kind of cool possibility and would love to hear ideas.
posted by FencingGal at 10:24 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
I don't begrudge the romantically involved their day, and this is not coming from a place of bitterness at all, but since it's based on a religious holiday, it seems like there could be something for people who want to observe it in some way but who don't have partners (not excluding nonreligious people - it could be sort of like Christmas where people who aren't religious take what they want from it). One year I had a party for all of my single female friends, which was a blast (we made dinner and watched How to Marry a Millionaire). I'm immunocompromised and there's still a pandemic, so that was a no go this year.
I feel like there should be some kind of cool possibility and would love to hear ideas.
posted by FencingGal at 10:24 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
I won't paste the whole thing here, but at our wedding we had a reading from Sandol Stoddard Warburg's I Like You and this bit from the end just got me all over again:
posted by fedward at 10:25 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I can’t remember when I didn’t like youYeah, that's still true.
It must have been lonesome then
Even if it was the 999th of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again
And that’s how it would happen every time
posted by fedward at 10:25 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I don't begrudge the romantically involved their day, and this is not coming from a place of bitterness at all, but since it's based on a religious holiday, it seems like there could be something for people who want to observe it in some way but who don't have partners (not excluding nonreligious people - it could be sort of like Christmas where people who aren't religious take what they want from it).
You've heard of "Galentine's Day", yes?
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:29 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
You've heard of "Galentine's Day", yes?
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:29 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
For those who are not christian, are unpartnered, who don't send cards: instead of Valentine's Day, consider celebrating the killing of Captain James Cook by the indigenous inhabitants of Hawai'i!
posted by Lawn Beaver at 10:30 AM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
posted by Lawn Beaver at 10:30 AM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
Well, they have created "Galentine's Day" or "Palentine's Day," if you're into that, Fencing Girl. In prepandemic times I would buy a pack of grade school valentines and leave them out at my volunteer job or a con I would go to or things like this. This year my friends and I were supposedly going to do a thing on Saturday and then one of them bailed so it got canceled, so I have these stupid valentines and no one to hand them out to since today is a work from home day and I don't know about bringing them to rehearsal. Maybe I'll just save 'em for next year.
Am I just weird for...not loving or being into most poetry? I like Dorothy Parker and some Edna St. Vincent Millay and the occasional other thing, but otherwise, I just don't get it or feel strongly about it or get why people are writing the poems in the way they are writing them. (And yes, I was an English major.)
I don't know. I just plain feel left out as a permanently single and sick of that person and I can't get into "the spirit" very much. Mostly I just try to ignore the day. I'm not quite at the "wear black and Bite Me earrings" phase I used to be, but it's like one of those other holidays that aren't meant for me, so I might as well ignore it.
posted by jenfullmoon at 10:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Am I just weird for...not loving or being into most poetry? I like Dorothy Parker and some Edna St. Vincent Millay and the occasional other thing, but otherwise, I just don't get it or feel strongly about it or get why people are writing the poems in the way they are writing them. (And yes, I was an English major.)
I don't know. I just plain feel left out as a permanently single and sick of that person and I can't get into "the spirit" very much. Mostly I just try to ignore the day. I'm not quite at the "wear black and Bite Me earrings" phase I used to be, but it's like one of those other holidays that aren't meant for me, so I might as well ignore it.
posted by jenfullmoon at 10:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
also a whole pan designed to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull.
also two pans that do cakelets like little brains
Please tell me you're going to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull with a cakelet like a little brain inside it?
posted by Lyn Never at 10:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
also two pans that do cakelets like little brains
Please tell me you're going to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull with a cakelet like a little brain inside it?
posted by Lyn Never at 10:31 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
DAMMIT, sciatrix, I was in St. Paul two weeks ago to see family, and almost went to the store with my mom. My wife would have purely killed me for coming home with pans (we're in the middle of a big purge of Stuff) but....definitely next time. :7)
posted by wenestvedt at 10:33 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by wenestvedt at 10:33 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
taz: "like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."
The original, which is similarly incandescent.
Soneto XI (Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo )
Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día.
Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la pálida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.
Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas
y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsculo
buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe.
posted by chavenet at 10:34 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
The original, which is similarly incandescent.
Soneto XI (Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo )
Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día.
Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la pálida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.
Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas
y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsculo
buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe.
posted by chavenet at 10:34 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
I found a pocket, a basket, and five shades of green
As I drifted through closets, boxes, and dreams
There were cookbooks and novels, hoping for more
Enough clothing to fill half a dumpster, now shorn
But the best of the day
Was the sofa gone ‘way
That damn sofa gone ‘way
It may not be spring yet, but I at last see the floor
posted by Callisto Prime at 10:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
As I drifted through closets, boxes, and dreams
There were cookbooks and novels, hoping for more
Enough clothing to fill half a dumpster, now shorn
But the best of the day
Was the sofa gone ‘way
That damn sofa gone ‘way
It may not be spring yet, but I at last see the floor
posted by Callisto Prime at 10:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Not seeing my beloved today (we spent most of the weekend together and he's not much for Valentine's) but holy heck is he a treasure. Yesterday he played me this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZudHYTya-dQ
posted by wellred at 10:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by wellred at 10:36 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
My cousin got us a heart-shaped pizza from Papa Murphy's last night.
Then I saw an ad this morning for Little Caesar's that had a pizza shaped like the Batman logo.
I feel a little cheated.
posted by The Ardship of Cambry at 10:38 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
Then I saw an ad this morning for Little Caesar's that had a pizza shaped like the Batman logo.
I feel a little cheated.
posted by The Ardship of Cambry at 10:38 AM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
The Ardship of Cambry: "Little Caesar's that had a pizza shaped like the Batman logo."
That's for Batmantine's Day, I mean it's two months early!
posted by chavenet at 10:44 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
That's for Batmantine's Day, I mean it's two months early!
posted by chavenet at 10:44 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I have the incredible privilege of being on a call right now with Justice Alan Page through my job and I’m feeling the need to plug Page-ed.org for BHM. I’m also reminded today of their sweet little love story behind the foundation.
“ Diane and Alan married in 1973. Their marriage reflected not only their deep and enduring love for each other, but also a shared commitment to social justice. Together, during Alan’s 1988 induction into the NFL Hall of Fame, Diane and Alan created the Page Education Foundation.”
Cheers.
posted by Bacon Bit at 10:57 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
“ Diane and Alan married in 1973. Their marriage reflected not only their deep and enduring love for each other, but also a shared commitment to social justice. Together, during Alan’s 1988 induction into the NFL Hall of Fame, Diane and Alan created the Page Education Foundation.”
Cheers.
posted by Bacon Bit at 10:57 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Roses are yellow,
violets are also yellow,
Therefore we conclude all flowers are yellow.
I love you.
posted by Spathe Cadet at 10:58 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
violets are also yellow,
Therefore we conclude all flowers are yellow.
I love you.
posted by Spathe Cadet at 10:58 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Roses are red
Violets are red
You're red
My eyes are on fire
posted by Greg_Ace at 11:04 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Violets are red
You're red
My eyes are on fire
posted by Greg_Ace at 11:04 AM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
--- Quoted for my 67th birthday, not a fortnight past.
posted by SPrintF at 11:08 AM on February 14, 2022 [10 favorites]
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
--- Quoted for my 67th birthday, not a fortnight past.
posted by SPrintF at 11:08 AM on February 14, 2022 [10 favorites]
Roses are red
Violets are purple
My nipples are both
From your purple nurples
posted by Kabanos at 11:09 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are purple
My nipples are both
From your purple nurples
posted by Kabanos at 11:09 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I love you like no-one other
I'd never quit you for another
But if your hygiene's not neat
And you pee on the seat
I'm going back home to my mother
posted by Greg_Ace at 11:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
I'd never quit you for another
But if your hygiene's not neat
And you pee on the seat
I'm going back home to my mother
posted by Greg_Ace at 11:10 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Cabernet's red
Rosé is pink
I just scrolled through Facebook
Now I need a drink
posted by pernoctalian at 11:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Rosé is pink
I just scrolled through Facebook
Now I need a drink
posted by pernoctalian at 11:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
BEING TOGETHER IN THE COLD
The tips of my fingers are so cold,
That next state of cold that really
Doesn’t feel like cold, it feels
Like something else, but you know it’s cold.
It’s hard to be whimsical on a cold
Clear morning, with the sun shining,
There’s a sky that isn’t gray,
And my breath coming out in clouds,
But it isn’t. You’re on the phone
With Diane, and phones didn’t used
To tell you everything, and before that
One, apparently, had to talk to the operator
To make a connection, but the part
About what it’s like to talk to a friend
On the phone is pretty much the same.
I suppose this is a poem about how the world changes,
But you knew that, and the choice,
When faced with so many strange changes,
To embrace them, the way one embraces
A friend on the phone, but here’s the thing,
We talked about it yesterday evening,
Or was it afternoon, when you said
It feels like we have been together forever,
Which it does for me too, something different
From how recognition changes the world,
The transformation of love, say:
It’s a certainty, more solid, to me, to us,
Than anything, even all those years we were separate,
We have been together forever.
Feb. 13, 2022 Eugene.
posted by emmet at 11:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
The tips of my fingers are so cold,
That next state of cold that really
Doesn’t feel like cold, it feels
Like something else, but you know it’s cold.
It’s hard to be whimsical on a cold
Clear morning, with the sun shining,
There’s a sky that isn’t gray,
And my breath coming out in clouds,
But it isn’t. You’re on the phone
With Diane, and phones didn’t used
To tell you everything, and before that
One, apparently, had to talk to the operator
To make a connection, but the part
About what it’s like to talk to a friend
On the phone is pretty much the same.
I suppose this is a poem about how the world changes,
But you knew that, and the choice,
When faced with so many strange changes,
To embrace them, the way one embraces
A friend on the phone, but here’s the thing,
We talked about it yesterday evening,
Or was it afternoon, when you said
It feels like we have been together forever,
Which it does for me too, something different
From how recognition changes the world,
The transformation of love, say:
It’s a certainty, more solid, to me, to us,
Than anything, even all those years we were separate,
We have been together forever.
Feb. 13, 2022 Eugene.
posted by emmet at 11:13 AM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
I have to share with you this actual text I just received:
“Happy Valentine’s Day! I wanted to let you know that you coffee this morning was 25% caffeinated.”
posted by HotToddy at 11:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
“Happy Valentine’s Day! I wanted to let you know that you coffee this morning was 25% caffeinated.”
posted by HotToddy at 11:15 AM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
My dearest cat Meru needs
costly surgery
for a rotten tooth she has
-
OT says I’ve DCD
but my insurance
says they can’t diagnose me
-
Someone keeps putting garbage
in the recycling
but only I seem to care
-
My poor brain thought these should be
seven-five-seven
but I’m going to leave them
posted by bixfrankonis at 11:28 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
costly surgery
for a rotten tooth she has
-
OT says I’ve DCD
but my insurance
says they can’t diagnose me
-
Someone keeps putting garbage
in the recycling
but only I seem to care
-
My poor brain thought these should be
seven-five-seven
but I’m going to leave them
posted by bixfrankonis at 11:28 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
This is just to say
I have moved
the trash
that was in
recycling
and which
you were probably
too busy
to understand
I forgive you.
They were bulky
so filled with glued-together multiple materials and batteries and polypropylene
get a clue
posted by eotvos at 11:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
I have moved
the trash
that was in
recycling
and which
you were probably
too busy
to understand
I forgive you.
They were bulky
so filled with glued-together multiple materials and batteries and polypropylene
get a clue
posted by eotvos at 11:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
you may forget but
let me tell you
this: someone in
some future time
will think of us
posted by pjenks at 11:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
let me tell you
this: someone in
some future time
will think of us
posted by pjenks at 11:39 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
I don't have any love poetry in me at the moment. I just spent lunch gelling a translation of Wang Wei getting his Zen Master on:
There's no question word in line 7, so the question might be "Is success or failure managed?"
posted by Quasirandom at 11:41 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Replying to Vice-Minister ZhangIt's a rather different headspace, yah.
In later years, we wish for pleasing quiet
So all the myriad things won’t worry the heart.
As for myself, I have no long-term plans:
I know that I’ll return to the ancient forest—
The wind in the pine trees will untie my sash,
The mountain moon will shine as I play my qin.
My prince asks, “How’s success or failure managed?”
The fisherman’s song is heard from far inshore.
There's no question word in line 7, so the question might be "Is success or failure managed?"
posted by Quasirandom at 11:41 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
And because now it's running through my head: I'm Glad I'm Not Young Anymore.
It comes right after Maurice Chevalier's nephew (in the script), one of the main romantic leads, has been pouring out this sob story of "I thought Gigi was just a kid but now I think I'm in love with her but I am already seeing Mademoiselle Poofabum what the hell do I do now," and Chevalier has sent him off with some advice - and then starts singing this.
My current roommate, and the last one, are/were a good deal younger than I, and embroiled in their own romantic dramas - and so for the past few years I've been nervously taken aside in the kitchen a few times and asked if I can give them "a female perspective" on how they could make sure some romantic overture might be best received, or asked what I thought of a text or something like that. I take them seriously and give an honest opinion, of course - I was there too and I would have wanted that - but then when they walk away, I just sigh and think "thank God I don't give a shit about that kind of drama any more because what a pain in the ass."
I also have a recurring in-joke with the current roommate: he's been trying to figure out how to hang blackout curtains around his bed to help with cutting down on sound, and whenever he mentions that I tease him that "you know, curtains around the bed would probably also be incredibly sexy to any girl you bring over, just sayin'."
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 11:47 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
It comes right after Maurice Chevalier's nephew (in the script), one of the main romantic leads, has been pouring out this sob story of "I thought Gigi was just a kid but now I think I'm in love with her but I am already seeing Mademoiselle Poofabum what the hell do I do now," and Chevalier has sent him off with some advice - and then starts singing this.
My current roommate, and the last one, are/were a good deal younger than I, and embroiled in their own romantic dramas - and so for the past few years I've been nervously taken aside in the kitchen a few times and asked if I can give them "a female perspective" on how they could make sure some romantic overture might be best received, or asked what I thought of a text or something like that. I take them seriously and give an honest opinion, of course - I was there too and I would have wanted that - but then when they walk away, I just sigh and think "thank God I don't give a shit about that kind of drama any more because what a pain in the ass."
I also have a recurring in-joke with the current roommate: he's been trying to figure out how to hang blackout curtains around his bed to help with cutting down on sound, and whenever he mentions that I tease him that "you know, curtains around the bed would probably also be incredibly sexy to any girl you bring over, just sayin'."
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 11:47 AM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
We don't do Valentine's day here. As left-wing anti-consumerist atheist slum dwellers, we see it as a symbol of American Imperialism. I'm joking, but only half.
Anyway, earlier today I come out into the kitchen to see what my daughter is up to. It's perhaps 2PM, but she just got out of bed. I ask her what's up, and she replies, "I'm making fried rice with a couple of roasted teal ducks".
She deboned the little birds and then cooked a stock from the carcasses and all the scraps of vegetables she meticulously keeps in the freezer.
Yes, I am proud of her <3
posted by mumimor at 11:57 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Anyway, earlier today I come out into the kitchen to see what my daughter is up to. It's perhaps 2PM, but she just got out of bed. I ask her what's up, and she replies, "I'm making fried rice with a couple of roasted teal ducks".
She deboned the little birds and then cooked a stock from the carcasses and all the scraps of vegetables she meticulously keeps in the freezer.
Yes, I am proud of her <3
posted by mumimor at 11:57 AM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
Sent my daughter off to kindergarten with valentines. A Hello Kitty set I got at a thrift store 6 years ago. The set came with 20 pencils, so she's giving those out too. I hope she's has a good day, I'll know when I pick her up from the bus.
posted by Catblack at 12:18 PM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
posted by Catblack at 12:18 PM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace by Richard Brautigan
I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.
posted by chavenet at 12:19 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.
posted by chavenet at 12:19 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Come here my love, you cruel sad soul
Adored tiger, beast untamed
I’ll plunge my trembling fingers deep
Into your dark and heavy mane
And in your tight and perfumed dress
I’ll hide my ragged, pain-filled head
And smell, as though a wilted flower,
The rotting scent of love quite dead
I want to sleep and dream—not live.
I’d kiss again without remorse
In slumber deep and close to death
Your gorgeous body, sleek and bronze
To bury tears and strangled sobs
There’s nothing like your bed’s abyss
Forgetting-power is on your lips
And Lethe’s flow is in your kiss
I obey my fate—my sole delight
As one predestined, a docile martyr
Condemned to die yet innocent
For whom the fire stirs the fervor
To drown my bitter pain I’ll suck
This poison and forgetting-drug
Again from these enchanting breasts
Behind which there was never love
Le Léthé
Charles Baudelaire
posted by jabah at 12:31 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Adored tiger, beast untamed
I’ll plunge my trembling fingers deep
Into your dark and heavy mane
And in your tight and perfumed dress
I’ll hide my ragged, pain-filled head
And smell, as though a wilted flower,
The rotting scent of love quite dead
I want to sleep and dream—not live.
I’d kiss again without remorse
In slumber deep and close to death
Your gorgeous body, sleek and bronze
To bury tears and strangled sobs
There’s nothing like your bed’s abyss
Forgetting-power is on your lips
And Lethe’s flow is in your kiss
I obey my fate—my sole delight
As one predestined, a docile martyr
Condemned to die yet innocent
For whom the fire stirs the fervor
To drown my bitter pain I’ll suck
This poison and forgetting-drug
Again from these enchanting breasts
Behind which there was never love
Le Léthé
Charles Baudelaire
posted by jabah at 12:31 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
recommended soundtrack for daisystomper's poem
posted by DirtyOldTown at 12:34 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by DirtyOldTown at 12:34 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
roses are blue
violets are red
since i met you
i'm mixed up in my head
posted by pyramid termite at 12:45 PM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
violets are red
since i met you
i'm mixed up in my head
posted by pyramid termite at 12:45 PM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
roses are dead
violets are dead
I'm really bad at gardening
and also poetry
posted by fedward at 12:52 PM on February 14, 2022 [14 favorites]
violets are dead
I'm really bad at gardening
and also poetry
posted by fedward at 12:52 PM on February 14, 2022 [14 favorites]
Am I just weird for...not loving or being into most poetry?I'm not big on poetry either, and I feel like we are not allowed to say that or we will be judged. But you are not alone.
The clearest sign that I'm not big on poetry is: my favorite poems are limericks. Here's one I shamelessly stole about a different kind of love:
There was a young man who loved Pabst
He drank it until he collapsed
He gave up beer
For Lent every year
And on Easter morning, relapsed.
posted by Tehhund at 1:01 PM on February 14, 2022 [6 favorites]
Roses are green,
Violets are black,
My webpage was struck
By a CSS hack
posted by Foosnark at 1:02 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Violets are black,
My webpage was struck
By a CSS hack
posted by Foosnark at 1:02 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
It is an ancyent Marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three,
"By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye,
I kinda wanna give you the D!"
Happy Valentines Day everyone!
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 1:05 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
And he stoppeth one of three,
"By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye,
I kinda wanna give you the D!"
Happy Valentines Day everyone!
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 1:05 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Your Catfish Friend
Richard Brautigan
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 1:15 PM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
Richard Brautigan
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 1:15 PM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
some say the world will end in roses
some say in violets.
from what i know of human poses
i hold with those who favor roses
but if i could lay down two bets
i think i know enough of clay to
say that for groundcover violets
are okay & likely
require less maintenance.
posted by 20 year lurk at 1:22 PM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
some say in violets.
from what i know of human poses
i hold with those who favor roses
but if i could lay down two bets
i think i know enough of clay to
say that for groundcover violets
are okay & likely
require less maintenance.
posted by 20 year lurk at 1:22 PM on February 14, 2022 [15 favorites]
operatic rendition of daisystomper's poem
posted by pmdboi at 1:27 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by pmdboi at 1:27 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Written over the weekend for a friend who posted a pic of their painted Etrigan figurine
I had no idea that Etrigan was anything other than a MeFi username. I was very confused.
posted by nickmark at 1:29 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I had no idea that Etrigan was anything other than a MeFi username. I was very confused.
posted by nickmark at 1:29 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye;
If now I be disdainèd I wish my heart had never known ye.
What, I that loved, and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle?
No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle.
If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;
Or if my hands had stray'd but a touch, then justly might you leave me.
I ask'd you leave, you bade me love; is't now a time to chide me?
No, no, no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me.
The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,
And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:
Where beauty moves, and wit delights, and signs of kindness bind me,
There, O there, where'er I go I'll leave my heart behind me.
--Anon, published 1607
in Thomas Ford's Music of Sundry Kinds
posted by Pallas Athena at 1:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
If now I be disdainèd I wish my heart had never known ye.
What, I that loved, and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle?
No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle.
If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;
Or if my hands had stray'd but a touch, then justly might you leave me.
I ask'd you leave, you bade me love; is't now a time to chide me?
No, no, no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me.
The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,
And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:
Where beauty moves, and wit delights, and signs of kindness bind me,
There, O there, where'er I go I'll leave my heart behind me.
--Anon, published 1607
in Thomas Ford's Music of Sundry Kinds
posted by Pallas Athena at 1:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
To Earthward
Robert Frost
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of—was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Downhill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt,
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,
The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.
posted by drlith at 1:41 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Robert Frost
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of—was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Downhill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt,
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,
The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.
posted by drlith at 1:41 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
"it sang without a sound: music that
The naive elm trees loved. They were alive.
Oh silky music no elm tree could survive.
The head low slither of a stalking cat,
Black panther darkness pouring to the kill,
Entered every elm—they drank it in.
Drank silence. Then the silence drank. Wet chin,
Hot, whiskered darkness. Every elm was ill.
What else is there to give but joy? Disease.
And trauma. Lightning, or as slow as lava.
Darkness drinking from a pool in Java,
Black panther drinking from a dream. The trees
Around the edge are elms. Below, above.
Man-eater drinking its reflection: love."
-Frederick Seidel, Elms.
posted by clavdivs at 1:42 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
The naive elm trees loved. They were alive.
Oh silky music no elm tree could survive.
The head low slither of a stalking cat,
Black panther darkness pouring to the kill,
Entered every elm—they drank it in.
Drank silence. Then the silence drank. Wet chin,
Hot, whiskered darkness. Every elm was ill.
What else is there to give but joy? Disease.
And trauma. Lightning, or as slow as lava.
Darkness drinking from a pool in Java,
Black panther drinking from a dream. The trees
Around the edge are elms. Below, above.
Man-eater drinking its reflection: love."
-Frederick Seidel, Elms.
posted by clavdivs at 1:42 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Rose is arthritic,
Dorothy conspicuous
Sophia is old, and
Blanche is promiscuous
posted by box at 1:43 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Dorothy conspicuous
Sophia is old, and
Blanche is promiscuous
posted by box at 1:43 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
1
apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
2
bracken exists; and blackberries, blackberries;
bromine exists; and hydrogen, hydrogen
3
cicadas exist; chicory, chromium,
citrus trees; cicadas exist;
cicadas, cedars, cypresses, the cerebellum
4
doves exist, dreamers, and dolls;
killers exist, and doves, and doves;
haze, dioxin, and days; days
exist, days and death; and poems
exist; poems, days, death
(Excerpt from Alphabet by Inger Christensen)
posted by mumimor at 1:56 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
2
bracken exists; and blackberries, blackberries;
bromine exists; and hydrogen, hydrogen
3
cicadas exist; chicory, chromium,
citrus trees; cicadas exist;
cicadas, cedars, cypresses, the cerebellum
4
doves exist, dreamers, and dolls;
killers exist, and doves, and doves;
haze, dioxin, and days; days
exist, days and death; and poems
exist; poems, days, death
(Excerpt from Alphabet by Inger Christensen)
posted by mumimor at 1:56 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Roses are red,
Murlocs are green.
WURGIGURLURRBLURGRWRWRUGGLRUBLLRURGLRRUR
(If you know what I mean.)
posted by xedrik at 1:56 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Murlocs are green.
WURGIGURLURRBLURGRWRWRUGGLRUBLLRURGLRRUR
(If you know what I mean.)
posted by xedrik at 1:56 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Roses are red,
Scary monsters are green,
Waiting at the lights,
(If you know what I mean)
Apologies to xedrik and Bowie both
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 2:03 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Scary monsters are green,
Waiting at the lights,
(If you know what I mean)
Apologies to xedrik and Bowie both
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 2:03 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
We don't get a ton of deliveries outside of the occasional UPS package, but DID YOU KNOW that other, larger deliveries will get dumped in the most convenient spot a pallet jack can reach because the driver is not allowed to move material beyond that point and then you get stuck hauling 350 kilos of tile into your home because that "convenient spot" was right in the middle of the sidewalk?
Because my back and shoulders know now.
posted by backseatpilot at 2:03 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Because my back and shoulders know now.
posted by backseatpilot at 2:03 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I don't know if any of the people who are not poetry readers are even still here, but when I was looking for a translation of Inger Christensen's poem, I was reminded that even the most technical poetry is always about the spoken word.
Christensen was very much a formalist, her poetry is all about metrics and math. But it is also very musical (well, to be formal and technical about it, music is all about metrics and math). Musical in the sense that her poetry is accessible, easy to learn and "sing" along with. Actually some of her poems were set to music and became popular anti-war and anti-pollution anthems.
So if you meet a poem, try to read it out aloud to yourself. Look for the rhythm and beat. Sing it.
After all, the Iliad opens with Sing, goddess
posted by mumimor at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Christensen was very much a formalist, her poetry is all about metrics and math. But it is also very musical (well, to be formal and technical about it, music is all about metrics and math). Musical in the sense that her poetry is accessible, easy to learn and "sing" along with. Actually some of her poems were set to music and became popular anti-war and anti-pollution anthems.
So if you meet a poem, try to read it out aloud to yourself. Look for the rhythm and beat. Sing it.
After all, the Iliad opens with Sing, goddess
posted by mumimor at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Hahahahahahah, that reminds me of the time we ordered a bunch of mailer boxes and the guy just dumped the pallet at the back of the building and refused to do anything more about it. So I had to haul all these DIRTY mailer boxes (in a nice work dress) into storage one by one by myself and then explain to someone that yes, they just dumped this here and I can't pick it up and I don't know how to get rid of it. My coworker and I had a lot of commentary on this dude after that.
In other news, I finished my Ravellenic Games sweater this morning, thought of a gift idea for a friend's birthday, and feel like I have done the most important bits of my job for the day and am ready to move on now. Sadly there's three more hours of nothing but emails to go.
posted by jenfullmoon at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022
In other news, I finished my Ravellenic Games sweater this morning, thought of a gift idea for a friend's birthday, and feel like I have done the most important bits of my job for the day and am ready to move on now. Sadly there's three more hours of nothing but emails to go.
posted by jenfullmoon at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022
Democracy by Arthur Rimbaud (original in French):
“The flag goes with the foul landscape, and our jargon muffles the drum.
“In the great centers we’ll nurture the most cynical prostitution. We’ll massacre logical revolts.
“In spicy and drenched lands! — at the service of the most monstrous exploitations, industrial or military.
“Farewell here, no matter where. Conscripts of good will, ours will be a ferocious philosophy; ignorant as to science, rabid for comfort; and let the rest of the world croak. This is the real advance. Forward, march!”
posted by mubba at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
“The flag goes with the foul landscape, and our jargon muffles the drum.
“In the great centers we’ll nurture the most cynical prostitution. We’ll massacre logical revolts.
“In spicy and drenched lands! — at the service of the most monstrous exploitations, industrial or military.
“Farewell here, no matter where. Conscripts of good will, ours will be a ferocious philosophy; ignorant as to science, rabid for comfort; and let the rest of the world croak. This is the real advance. Forward, march!”
posted by mubba at 2:09 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
autotomy :: wislawa szymborska
In danger, the holothurian cuts itself in two.
It abandons one self to a hungry world
and with the other self it flees.
It violently divides into doom and salvation,
retribution and reward, what has been and what will be.
An abyss appears in the middle of its body
between what instantly become two foreign shores.
Life on one shore, death on the other.
Here hope and there despair.
If there are scales, the pans don’t move.
If there is justice, this is it.
To die just as required, without excess.
To grow back just what’s needed from what’s left.
We, too, can divide ourselves, it’s true.
But only into flesh and a broken whisper.
Into flesh and poetry.
The throat on one side, laughter on the other,
quiet, quickly dying out.
Here the heavy heart, there non omnis moriar—
just three little words, like a flight’s three feathers.
The abyss doesn’t divide us.
The abyss surrounds us.
In memoriam Halina Poświatowska
posted by elkevelvet at 2:12 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
In danger, the holothurian cuts itself in two.
It abandons one self to a hungry world
and with the other self it flees.
It violently divides into doom and salvation,
retribution and reward, what has been and what will be.
An abyss appears in the middle of its body
between what instantly become two foreign shores.
Life on one shore, death on the other.
Here hope and there despair.
If there are scales, the pans don’t move.
If there is justice, this is it.
To die just as required, without excess.
To grow back just what’s needed from what’s left.
We, too, can divide ourselves, it’s true.
But only into flesh and a broken whisper.
Into flesh and poetry.
The throat on one side, laughter on the other,
quiet, quickly dying out.
Here the heavy heart, there non omnis moriar—
just three little words, like a flight’s three feathers.
The abyss doesn’t divide us.
The abyss surrounds us.
In memoriam Halina Poświatowska
posted by elkevelvet at 2:12 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
roe, caesar, read
the valentine's lunch special
valdeón blue
cheese toast points
honey wheat
bread
and sour ewe's
buttermilk biscuits
with orange marmalade
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 2:20 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
the valentine's lunch special
valdeón blue
cheese toast points
honey wheat
bread
and sour ewe's
buttermilk biscuits
with orange marmalade
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 2:20 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Hey all! Tor has a free e-book bundle through the 18th. One of the three books is the first Murderbot book, for those (like me) who have been wondering about starting the series.
posted by a non mouse, a cow herd at 2:22 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by a non mouse, a cow herd at 2:22 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
roe, caesar, read
the valentine's lunch special
valdeón blue
cheese toast points
honey wheat
bread
and sour ewe's
buttermilk biscuits
with orange marmalade
They have a weird brunch menu here, let's go somewhere else.
posted by Greg_Ace at 2:41 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
the valentine's lunch special
valdeón blue
cheese toast points
honey wheat
bread
and sour ewe's
buttermilk biscuits
with orange marmalade
They have a weird brunch menu here, let's go somewhere else.
posted by Greg_Ace at 2:41 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
By James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
posted by chavenet at 2:52 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
By James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
posted by chavenet at 2:52 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
(sigh) I am familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda
posted by Going To Maine at 2:54 PM on February 14, 2022
posted by Going To Maine at 2:54 PM on February 14, 2022
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Mine are pink,
What colour are yours?
posted by 43rdAnd9th at 3:04 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are blue,
Mine are pink,
What colour are yours?
posted by 43rdAnd9th at 3:04 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I've been thinking a lot about Jack Gilbert's A Brief for the Defense lately. It helps remind me in all this [waves arm] that it can be okay to just be okay, sometimes.
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.
posted by heyitsgogi at 3:04 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.
posted by heyitsgogi at 3:04 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Happy Valentine’s Day from the USCPSC
posted by Going To Maine at 3:15 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
posted by Going To Maine at 3:15 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
♡ ♡
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
♡ ♡ ♡
♡ ♡
♡ ♡
♡ ♡
♡
This is hearter than it looks. It starts like a heart and the metaverse squishes it.
posted by Oyéah at 3:16 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
I know one thing about poetry: anyone from Nantucket who ends up in a limerick is in for a lewd awakening
posted by elkevelvet at 3:19 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
posted by elkevelvet at 3:19 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Happy Valentine’s Day from the USCPSC
WHUT.
posted by jenfullmoon at 3:23 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
WHUT.
posted by jenfullmoon at 3:23 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Happy Valentine’s Day from the USCPSC
roses are red
chickens lay eggs
if you don't cook them well
you'll lose both your legs ... and set fire to your xmas tree and give people weird scary cards for valentine's day because this is your tax dollars at work so COOK YOUR DAMN EGGS ALREADY
posted by pyramid termite at 3:32 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
roses are red
chickens lay eggs
if you don't cook them well
you'll lose both your legs ... and set fire to your xmas tree and give people weird scary cards for valentine's day because this is your tax dollars at work so COOK YOUR DAMN EGGS ALREADY
posted by pyramid termite at 3:32 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Mine are pink,
What colour are yours?
That's a rather personal question.
posted by Greg_Ace at 3:40 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
What colour are yours?
That's a rather personal question.
posted by Greg_Ace at 3:40 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
A Consumer’s Report
The name of the product I tested is Life,
I have completed the form you sent me
and understand that my answers are confidential.
I had it as a gift,
I didn’t feel much while using it,
in fact I think I’d have liked to be more excited.
It seemed gentle on the hands
but left an embarrassing deposit behind.
It was not economical
and I have used much more than I thought
(I suppose I have about half left
but it’s difficult to tell)—
although the instructions are fairly large
there are so many of them
I don’t know which to follow, especially
as they seem to contradict each other.
I’m not sure such a thing
should be put in the way of children
It’s difficult to think of a purpose
for it...
-Peter Porter
posted by clavdivs at 3:43 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
The name of the product I tested is Life,
I have completed the form you sent me
and understand that my answers are confidential.
I had it as a gift,
I didn’t feel much while using it,
in fact I think I’d have liked to be more excited.
It seemed gentle on the hands
but left an embarrassing deposit behind.
It was not economical
and I have used much more than I thought
(I suppose I have about half left
but it’s difficult to tell)—
although the instructions are fairly large
there are so many of them
I don’t know which to follow, especially
as they seem to contradict each other.
I’m not sure such a thing
should be put in the way of children
It’s difficult to think of a purpose
for it...
-Peter Porter
posted by clavdivs at 3:43 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
recommended soundtrack for daisystomper's poem
operatic rendition of daisystomper's poem
(the second one...it me)
posted by daisystomper at 4:18 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
operatic rendition of daisystomper's poem
(the second one...it me)
posted by daisystomper at 4:18 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Roses are red
My name is Dave*
This poem makes no sense
Microwave
* my name is not quite Dave and, if you shorten my name this way, I will not respond
posted by dg at 4:29 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
My name is Dave*
This poem makes no sense
Microwave
* my name is not quite Dave and, if you shorten my name this way, I will not respond
posted by dg at 4:29 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
I Have Had to Learn to Live With My Face
by Diane Wakowski
You see me alone tonight.
My face has betrayed me again,
the garage mechanic who promises to fix my car
and never does.
My face
that my friends tell me is so full of character;
my face
I have hated for so many years;
my face
I have made an angry contract to live with
though no one could love it;
my face that I wish you would bruise and batter
and destroy, napalm it, throw acid on it,
so that I might have another
or be rid of it at last.
I drag peacock feather behind me
to erase the trail of the moon. Those tears
I shed for myself,
sometimes in anger.
There is no pretense in my life. The man who lives with me
must see something beautiful,
like a dark snake coming out of my mouth,
or love the tapestry of my actions, my life/this body, this
face, they have nothing to offer
but angry insistence, their presence.
I hate them,
want my life to be more.
Hate their shadow on even my words.
I sell my soul for good plumbing
and hot water,
I tell everyone;
and my face is soft,
opal,
a feathering of snow
against the
cold black leather coat
which is night.
You,
night,
my face against the chilly
expanse
of your back.
Learning to live with what you’re born with
is the process,
the involvement,
the making of a life.
And I have not learned happily
to live with my face,
that Diane which always looks better on film
than in life.
I sternly accept this plain face,
and hate every moment of that sternness.
posted by SystematicAbuse at 4:33 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
by Diane Wakowski
You see me alone tonight.
My face has betrayed me again,
the garage mechanic who promises to fix my car
and never does.
My face
that my friends tell me is so full of character;
my face
I have hated for so many years;
my face
I have made an angry contract to live with
though no one could love it;
my face that I wish you would bruise and batter
and destroy, napalm it, throw acid on it,
so that I might have another
or be rid of it at last.
I drag peacock feather behind me
to erase the trail of the moon. Those tears
I shed for myself,
sometimes in anger.
There is no pretense in my life. The man who lives with me
must see something beautiful,
like a dark snake coming out of my mouth,
or love the tapestry of my actions, my life/this body, this
face, they have nothing to offer
but angry insistence, their presence.
I hate them,
want my life to be more.
Hate their shadow on even my words.
I sell my soul for good plumbing
and hot water,
I tell everyone;
and my face is soft,
opal,
a feathering of snow
against the
cold black leather coat
which is night.
You,
night,
my face against the chilly
expanse
of your back.
Learning to live with what you’re born with
is the process,
the involvement,
the making of a life.
And I have not learned happily
to live with my face,
that Diane which always looks better on film
than in life.
I sternly accept this plain face,
and hate every moment of that sternness.
posted by SystematicAbuse at 4:33 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Laughing Song
By William Blake
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!'
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!'
posted by lock robster at 4:34 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
By William Blake
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!'
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!'
posted by lock robster at 4:34 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Fun comments in this post.
Recall this meta most.
I still think of it.
'cause I'm a nitwit.
To poetry, let us all toast.
posted by eotvos at 4:45 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Recall this meta most.
I still think of it.
'cause I'm a nitwit.
To poetry, let us all toast.
posted by eotvos at 4:45 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Betwixt the panes facing the orange tree,
linteled in wood, the mullion has them
biforate. Each window now moving free
still needs division to sustain the weight.
What if there was a crack that gave the view?
What if some termite ate along the flaw?
Two choices for the carpenter to do.
To reconstruct and reinforce the law;
To let them meet, live as a single sheet
if then the transoms lining them may give?
Now would it be a very foolish thing?
Don't rush your answer.
Here, I have a ring.
posted by solarion at 4:51 PM on February 14, 2022
linteled in wood, the mullion has them
biforate. Each window now moving free
still needs division to sustain the weight.
What if there was a crack that gave the view?
What if some termite ate along the flaw?
Two choices for the carpenter to do.
To reconstruct and reinforce the law;
To let them meet, live as a single sheet
if then the transoms lining them may give?
Now would it be a very foolish thing?
Don't rush your answer.
Here, I have a ring.
posted by solarion at 4:51 PM on February 14, 2022
I can see you clearly now,
in the morning light...
After the spent warmth
of the velvet night.
And now that I can see you,
in the morning sun,
I find you're more beautiful
than I thought when we were one.
posted by annieb at 4:56 PM on February 14, 2022
in the morning light...
After the spent warmth
of the velvet night.
And now that I can see you,
in the morning sun,
I find you're more beautiful
than I thought when we were one.
posted by annieb at 4:56 PM on February 14, 2022
Roses are red
Violets are red
The gardens on fire
And so is my shed.
posted by Gray Duck at 5:11 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Violets are red
The gardens on fire
And so is my shed.
posted by Gray Duck at 5:11 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
I am having an Unprecedented Monday Night Sniff of Laphroaig for medicinal/mental health purposes.
It sure was a Monday.
posted by Lawn Beaver at 5:20 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
It sure was a Monday.
posted by Lawn Beaver at 5:20 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
So if you meet a poem, try to read it out aloud to yourself. Look for the rhythm and beat. Sing it.Here goes. Key of D minor, with apologies to ee cummings
🎵r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r
who
a)s w(e loo)k
upnowgath
PPEGORHRASS
eringint(o-
aThe):l
eA
!p:
S a
(r
rIvInG .gRrEaPsPhOs)
to
rea(be)rran(com)gi(e)ngly
,grasshopper;🎶
I think I pulled something.posted by Tehhund at 5:46 PM on February 14, 2022 [9 favorites]
A tongue muscle, if I was to hazard a guess.
posted by Greg_Ace at 5:49 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Greg_Ace at 5:49 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
"hyperdithyrambic meters, pseudo-poetic inversions, gangling asymmetrical lines, extremely pat or elaborately inexact rimes, parenthetical dissertations, and unexpected puns."
Ogden Nash on Julia A. Moore.
"Literary is a work very difficult to do"
-Julia A. Moore
posted by clavdivs at 5:55 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
Ogden Nash on Julia A. Moore.
"Literary is a work very difficult to do"
-Julia A. Moore
posted by clavdivs at 5:55 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
When my library started getting renovated, I knew we were going to lose shelf space, and I was fine with that, and I weeded a lot of books, but at some point I started to get concerned that we were going to lose SO much shelf space that the books wouldn't be able to fit on the shelves. The architect and the library shelving people kept reassuring me, but I was dubious.
So today, they finally delivered the shelving, and after the construction team went home I went in to make measurements and compare them to my careful calculations of how many feet of linear shelving were in each section, and I did the math, and -
They were SO off.
We needed 770 feet of linear shelving just to squeeze the books on the shelves, but we only had 530 feet. I was in a panic. I was in a tizzy. My boss had gone home, which is the only reason I didn't run to him in a panic. So I went home. I took a nap.
And when I woke up I realized that the bookshelves ARE OPEN ON BOTH SIDES, so we don't have 530 feet, we have 1060 feet. (You want your shelves to be 2/3 to 3/4 full, so this is an extremely reasonable number.) And now, at last, I can permit myself to be excited about the library being renovated, and being able to move back from our temporary location beside the basketball court, which gets a maddening amount of basketball court noise.
posted by Jeanne at 7:06 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
So today, they finally delivered the shelving, and after the construction team went home I went in to make measurements and compare them to my careful calculations of how many feet of linear shelving were in each section, and I did the math, and -
They were SO off.
We needed 770 feet of linear shelving just to squeeze the books on the shelves, but we only had 530 feet. I was in a panic. I was in a tizzy. My boss had gone home, which is the only reason I didn't run to him in a panic. So I went home. I took a nap.
And when I woke up I realized that the bookshelves ARE OPEN ON BOTH SIDES, so we don't have 530 feet, we have 1060 feet. (You want your shelves to be 2/3 to 3/4 full, so this is an extremely reasonable number.) And now, at last, I can permit myself to be excited about the library being renovated, and being able to move back from our temporary location beside the basketball court, which gets a maddening amount of basketball court noise.
posted by Jeanne at 7:06 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
oh, god, this is one weird flyer
posted by pyramid termite at 7:14 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by pyramid termite at 7:14 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Going way, way back to the idea of pennies being thrown away or melted down at the beginning of the thread, I was honestly a touch unsettled.
Unused/unneeded pennies get thrown in the wishing well. They are wishes. You don't just throw wishes in the garbage or burn them to see if they're copper.
Madness, I say. If you end up having a sock full of pennies (because that's the best storage receptacle), just take them out in the dead of the night to your local wishing well and go to town. That many wishes, some of them are bound to come true.
posted by Ghidorah at 7:55 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
Unused/unneeded pennies get thrown in the wishing well. They are wishes. You don't just throw wishes in the garbage or burn them to see if they're copper.
Madness, I say. If you end up having a sock full of pennies (because that's the best storage receptacle), just take them out in the dead of the night to your local wishing well and go to town. That many wishes, some of them are bound to come true.
posted by Ghidorah at 7:55 PM on February 14, 2022 [8 favorites]
I made off like a bandit with a lot of bee-themed bakeware and also a whole pan designed to make a cake in the shape of a life size human skull.
This I want to see!
This weekend I went snorkeling at Water's Edge beach, which is a secret beach that most people don't know about. It's a tiny cove with a kelp forest, very close to where the film My Octopus Teacher was filmed and just as magical as the scenes in the film (although I haven't met an octopus yet)
I used to be a bit nervous of swimming close to the kelp as it has a habit of swirling abruptly into your peripheral vision which is startling in quite a primal way.
But now I have discovered the pleasure of crawling into the mass of underwater kelp. The light is amazing. Dappled and golden as it's filtered through both the water and the translucent kelp.
There are sounds as well, these clicking and high pitched crunching noises, I have no idea what creates the sounds.
To round off a perfect day, 2 incredibly charming young teenage boys borrowed our snorkels and masks (first time experience for them) and had a blast exploring the shallows.
One of them gave me a high five as he gave me my mask back which made me feel so *cool*.
Excellent day.
posted by Zumbador at 8:26 PM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
This I want to see!
This weekend I went snorkeling at Water's Edge beach, which is a secret beach that most people don't know about. It's a tiny cove with a kelp forest, very close to where the film My Octopus Teacher was filmed and just as magical as the scenes in the film (although I haven't met an octopus yet)
I used to be a bit nervous of swimming close to the kelp as it has a habit of swirling abruptly into your peripheral vision which is startling in quite a primal way.
But now I have discovered the pleasure of crawling into the mass of underwater kelp. The light is amazing. Dappled and golden as it's filtered through both the water and the translucent kelp.
There are sounds as well, these clicking and high pitched crunching noises, I have no idea what creates the sounds.
To round off a perfect day, 2 incredibly charming young teenage boys borrowed our snorkels and masks (first time experience for them) and had a blast exploring the shallows.
One of them gave me a high five as he gave me my mask back which made me feel so *cool*.
Excellent day.
posted by Zumbador at 8:26 PM on February 14, 2022 [7 favorites]
1. Empty your pockets each day and put spare change in a jar (preferably a huge bottle with a slit cut in the screw-top lid).
2. After a few years, empty out the bottle and count the change. Bonus points if you find a bunch of wheat pennies.
3. Spend the proceeds on African violets, which can be blue and keep well indoors. Roses are outdoor plants for the most part, but miniatures are lovely.
posted by TrishaU at 8:28 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
2. After a few years, empty out the bottle and count the change. Bonus points if you find a bunch of wheat pennies.
3. Spend the proceeds on African violets, which can be blue and keep well indoors. Roses are outdoor plants for the most part, but miniatures are lovely.
posted by TrishaU at 8:28 PM on February 14, 2022 [5 favorites]
Roses are Fred
Violets are Hugh
My sugar is Pete,
So, who are you?
I subjected myself to reading my own poetry this evening, no need to do the same to you.
posted by Oyéah at 8:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Violets are Hugh
My sugar is Pete,
So, who are you?
I subjected myself to reading my own poetry this evening, no need to do the same to you.
posted by Oyéah at 8:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [4 favorites]
Wan-Chu’s Wife in Bed
Wan Chu, my adoring husband,
has returned from another trip
selling trinkets in the provinces.
He pulls off his lavender shirt
as I lay naked in our bed,
waiting for him. He tells me
I am the only woman he’ll ever love.
He may wander from one side of China
to the other, but his heart
will always stay with me.
His face glows in the lamplight
with the sincerity of a boy
when I lower the satin sheet
to let him see my breasts.
Outside, it begins to rain
on the cherry trees
he planted with our son,
and when he enters me with a sigh,
the storm begins in earnest,
shaking our little house.
Afterward, I stroke his back
until he falls asleep.
I’d love to stay awake all night
listening to the rain,
but I should sleep, too.
Tomorrow Wan Chu will be
a hundred miles away
and I will be awake all night
in the arms of Wang Chen,
the tailor from Ming Pao,
the tiny village downriver.
—Richard Jones
posted by ActionPopulated at 9:11 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
Wan Chu, my adoring husband,
has returned from another trip
selling trinkets in the provinces.
He pulls off his lavender shirt
as I lay naked in our bed,
waiting for him. He tells me
I am the only woman he’ll ever love.
He may wander from one side of China
to the other, but his heart
will always stay with me.
His face glows in the lamplight
with the sincerity of a boy
when I lower the satin sheet
to let him see my breasts.
Outside, it begins to rain
on the cherry trees
he planted with our son,
and when he enters me with a sigh,
the storm begins in earnest,
shaking our little house.
Afterward, I stroke his back
until he falls asleep.
I’d love to stay awake all night
listening to the rain,
but I should sleep, too.
Tomorrow Wan Chu will be
a hundred miles away
and I will be awake all night
in the arms of Wang Chen,
the tailor from Ming Pao,
the tiny village downriver.
—Richard Jones
posted by ActionPopulated at 9:11 PM on February 14, 2022 [2 favorites]
my name iz cow
and in this thred
you all know how
i lik the bred
yor roses red
yor violets blue
yor sugar sweet
i lik them too
posted by wanderingmind at 9:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [10 favorites]
and in this thred
you all know how
i lik the bred
yor roses red
yor violets blue
yor sugar sweet
i lik them too
posted by wanderingmind at 9:36 PM on February 14, 2022 [10 favorites]
I subjected myself to reading my own poetry this evening, no need to do the same to you.
My first reaction to this thread was to re-read the one-third full exercise book of my late Mum's late poetry to find something to post, in full or in fragment. Decided against it for various reasons. She wasn't a capital-P poet but writing poetry was one of the things she loved and did all her life (so I guess really she was). That initial impulse made me forget all my bad teenage/twenties haiku and worse which I still have kicking around somewhere on narrow-lined A4 paper. I'm definitely not re-reading those!
Not fishing for your writing, nor setting up a Mum-excerpt, but I bet you've written some good stuff that others would appreciate though, even if it never reads to you how you want it to
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 9:42 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
My first reaction to this thread was to re-read the one-third full exercise book of my late Mum's late poetry to find something to post, in full or in fragment. Decided against it for various reasons. She wasn't a capital-P poet but writing poetry was one of the things she loved and did all her life (so I guess really she was). That initial impulse made me forget all my bad teenage/twenties haiku and worse which I still have kicking around somewhere on narrow-lined A4 paper. I'm definitely not re-reading those!
Not fishing for your writing, nor setting up a Mum-excerpt, but I bet you've written some good stuff that others would appreciate though, even if it never reads to you how you want it to
posted by I'm always feeling, Blue at 9:42 PM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]
My favorite:
Patagonia
Kate Clanchy
I said perhaps Patagonia, and pictured
a peninsula, wide enough
for a couple of ladderback chairs
to wobble on at high tide. I thought
of us in breathless cold, facing
a horizon round as a coin, looped
in a cat’s cradle strung by gulls
from sea to sun. I planned to wait
till the waves had bored themselves
to sleep, till the last clinging barnacles,
growing worried in the hush, had
paddled off in tiny coracles, till
those restless birds, your actor’s hands,
had dropped slack into your lap,
until you’d turned, at last, to me.
When I spoke of Patagonia, I meant
skies all empty aching blue. I meant
years. I meant all of them with you.
I love (love love love) A Brief for the Defense posted above, another one that has been rattling around inside my brain forever.
posted by charmedimsure at 9:59 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
Patagonia
Kate Clanchy
I said perhaps Patagonia, and pictured
a peninsula, wide enough
for a couple of ladderback chairs
to wobble on at high tide. I thought
of us in breathless cold, facing
a horizon round as a coin, looped
in a cat’s cradle strung by gulls
from sea to sun. I planned to wait
till the waves had bored themselves
to sleep, till the last clinging barnacles,
growing worried in the hush, had
paddled off in tiny coracles, till
those restless birds, your actor’s hands,
had dropped slack into your lap,
until you’d turned, at last, to me.
When I spoke of Patagonia, I meant
skies all empty aching blue. I meant
years. I meant all of them with you.
I love (love love love) A Brief for the Defense posted above, another one that has been rattling around inside my brain forever.
posted by charmedimsure at 9:59 PM on February 14, 2022 [3 favorites]
LOL, here’s some true poetry for you.
Trying to get to sleep now that I’ve realized the GoFundMe for necessary surgery for one of my cats will almost certainly get me kicked off my own health coverage due to income and asset caps, which means in a matter of weeks I likely will be losing my sinus, reflux, and anxiety meds; all of my doctors; and my therapist. All because we can’t be bothered to create a society that actually and sufficiently provides for and takes care of people. If I play by the rules by not committing fraud either against the state or my donors, I get punished anyway, all for not choosing to let my emotional support animal suffer. This entire system is a moral crime.
posted by bixfrankonis at 12:56 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
Trying to get to sleep now that I’ve realized the GoFundMe for necessary surgery for one of my cats will almost certainly get me kicked off my own health coverage due to income and asset caps, which means in a matter of weeks I likely will be losing my sinus, reflux, and anxiety meds; all of my doctors; and my therapist. All because we can’t be bothered to create a society that actually and sufficiently provides for and takes care of people. If I play by the rules by not committing fraud either against the state or my donors, I get punished anyway, all for not choosing to let my emotional support animal suffer. This entire system is a moral crime.
posted by bixfrankonis at 12:56 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
There are so many hues
In roses' colorful range
I'm as free as a bird
And this bird you cannot change
posted by Tehhund at 4:42 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
In roses' colorful range
I'm as free as a bird
And this bird you cannot change
posted by Tehhund at 4:42 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
Courtesy of a friend:
Roses are red
They grow in the muck
Would you like some making fuck
Berzerker
posted by Tehhund at 5:04 AM on February 15, 2022 [3 favorites]
Roses are red
They grow in the muck
Would you like some making fuck
Berzerker
posted by Tehhund at 5:04 AM on February 15, 2022 [3 favorites]
The other day, I opened my laptop and there was a little blob of red paper, about the size of a fingerprint, stuck on the screen. I peeled it off easily and it’s an old laptop with a smudged-up screen anyway, so that was fine, but odd — what was it doing there?
I’d been using the laptop to watch old episodes of the Great British Baking Show on Hoopla, and in the opening credits, there’s a cake with the top all covered with raspberries. Except, on one edge, there’s a gap where there should be one more raspberry! Does that bug anyone but me?
Turns out, my husband had put the red blob exactly where that missing raspberry should go, filling in the offending gap for me.
That’s my kind of Valentine :)
posted by daisyace at 7:17 AM on February 15, 2022 [7 favorites]
I’d been using the laptop to watch old episodes of the Great British Baking Show on Hoopla, and in the opening credits, there’s a cake with the top all covered with raspberries. Except, on one edge, there’s a gap where there should be one more raspberry! Does that bug anyone but me?
Turns out, my husband had put the red blob exactly where that missing raspberry should go, filling in the offending gap for me.
That’s my kind of Valentine :)
posted by daisyace at 7:17 AM on February 15, 2022 [7 favorites]
Am I just weird for...not loving or being into most poetry?
friends, I'm not fluent in jenfullmoonese but loosely translated I believe this is an invitation to submit original works of poetry inspired by, and/or about, jenfullmoon
though the roses were reddest
they did not make me swoon
twas the flash of nude buttocks
of jenfullmoon's moon
for what it's worth, I also majored in English Lit a lifetime ago and most poetry confounds me but I'll say this: I am taken by poetry about as often as I look up and really notice the sky, and judging by what I observe in the world that is not often and not never, but enough to get by
posted by elkevelvet at 7:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
friends, I'm not fluent in jenfullmoonese but loosely translated I believe this is an invitation to submit original works of poetry inspired by, and/or about, jenfullmoon
though the roses were reddest
they did not make me swoon
twas the flash of nude buttocks
of jenfullmoon's moon
for what it's worth, I also majored in English Lit a lifetime ago and most poetry confounds me but I'll say this: I am taken by poetry about as often as I look up and really notice the sky, and judging by what I observe in the world that is not often and not never, but enough to get by
posted by elkevelvet at 7:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
Oh gosh, bixfrankonis, that’s awful. If you haven’t withdrawn the funds yet GoFundMe says you can refund them... but I don’t know whether that keeps it from having been income. Or maybe if there’s some way to make the vet the recipient, not you??
posted by daisyace at 7:27 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by daisyace at 7:27 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
I just got today's wordle on the second row, a first for me! (Does happy dance)
Before going to work, I was looking on the webs for an English translation of Le parti pris des choses. I didn't find one, and the I really had to go. Instead, I found a single poem from the collection (sorry, it's a bit long, I would have chosen a shorter one if I could):
Snails
BY FRANCIS PONGE
TRANSLATED BY JOSHUA COREY AND JEAN-LUC GARNEAU
Unlike the ashes that make their home with hot coals, snails prefer moist earth. Go on: they advance while gluing themselves to it with their entire bodies. They carry it, they eat it, they shit it. They go through it, it goes through them. It’s the best kind of interpenetration, as between tones, one passive and one active. The passive bathes and nourishes the active, which overturns the other while it eats.
(There is more to be said about snails. First of all their immaculate clamminess. Their sangfroid. Their stretchiness.)
One can scarcely conceive of a snail outside its shell and unmoving. The moment it rests it sinks down deep into itself. In fact, its modesty obliges it to move as soon as it has shown its nakedness and revealed its vulnerable shape. The moment it’s exposed, it moves on.
During periods of dryness they withdraw into ditches where it seems their bodies are enough to maintain their dampness. No doubt their neighbors there are toads and frogs and other ectothermic animals. But when they come out again they don’t move as quickly. You have to admire their willingness to go into the ditch, given how hard it is for them to come out again.
Note also that though snails like moist soil, they have no affection for places that are too wet such as marshes or ponds. Most assuredly they prefer firm earth, as long as it’s fertile and damp.
They are fond as well of moisture-rich vegetables and green leafy plants. They know how to feed on them leaving only the veins, cutting free the most tender leaves. They are hell on salads.
What are these beings from the depths of the ditches? Though snails love many of their trenches’ qualities they have every intention of leaving. They are in their element but they are also wanderers. And when they emerge into the daylight onto firm ground their shells will preserve their vagabond’s hauteur.
It must be a pain to have to haul that trailer around with them everywhere, but they never complain and in the end they are happy about it. How valuable, after all, to be able to go home any time, no matter where you may find yourself, eluding all intruders. It must be worth it.
They are a little vain about this convenient ability: “Look at me, a vulnerable and sensitive being, who is nevertheless protected from unwanted guests, and so always in possession of happiness and peace of mind!” It’s not surprising the snail holds his head so high.
“At the same time I am glued to the earth, always touching it, always progressing, though slowly, and always capable of pulling loose from the soil into myself. Après moi le déluge, I don’t care, the slightest kick may roll me anywhere. I can always get up again onto my single foot and reglue myself to the dirt where fate has planted me, and that’s my pantry: the earth, the most common of foods.”
Joy to the snail! But they leave their proud slime on everything they touch. A silvery trail follows them. And maybe this points the way for the beaks of birds that love to eat them. Ay, there’s the rub: “To be or not to be, that is the question!” Such vanity! But that’s the danger they face.
Alone? Yes, the snail is quite alone. He has few friends. But he needs no friends to be happy. He sticks to Nature, he enjoys his perfect nearness, he is the friend of the soil which he kisses with his whole body. And he befriends the leaves, and the heavens toward which he proudly stretches his head, with eyes sensitive enough to signify nobility, slowness, wisdom, pride, vanity, fire.
No, he is nothing like the pig. He lacks those pitiful little scurrying anxious feet. That needful flight from shame. The stoic snail is tougher than that. He is more methodical, more proud, and without a doubt less gluttonous than any pig — pigs after all are capricious, leaving behind one bit of food to chase after something else. That panicky, hurried gluttony, that fear of missing out on something — that’s not for the snail.
Nothing could be more beautiful than that deliberate and discreet advance. What it must cost them to glide so perfectly along the earth they honor with their presence! Each is like a ship trailing its silver wake. They proceed with a majesty that is all the more complete when you consider again the vulnerability of those highly sensitive eyeballs.
Is the anger of snails perceptible? What examples can be found? As it makes no other gestures, the snail’s passion can probably only be discovered by a more profuse and rapid effusion of slime. The slime of pride. So one can see the expression of their rage is identical with that of their egotism. So they rule the world in their rich and silvery fashion.
The expression of their anger, like that of their pride, shines as it dries. But it also makes the trail that reveals them to predators. What’s more, this trail is ephemeral and lasts only until the next rain.
That’s how it is with everyone who speaks in an entirely subjective way, in verses and lines only, without taking care to build their phrases into a solid dwelling with more than two dimensions. Something more durable than themselves.
But undoubtedly they don’t feel this need. They are heroes, that is to say beings whose existence alone is a work of art — not artists who merely make masterpieces.
Here I touch on one of the main points of their lesson, something they have in common with all shelled beings: that shell, part of their essence, is at the same time a work of art, a monument. It lasts longer than they do.
That is the example that snails offer us: saints who make masterpieces of their lives, works of art of their own perfection. They secrete form. Nothing outside themselves, their necessity, or their needs is their work. Nothing is out of proportion with their physical being. Nothing that is unnecessary or obligatory.
And so they delineate the duties of humanity: great thoughts come from the heart. Live a better life and make better verses. Morality and rhetoric combine in the ambition and desire of the wise.
How are they saints? Precisely by obedience to their nature. So: know yourself. And accept yourself for what you are. In agreement with your vices. In proportion with your measure.
What is most appropriate to the human being? Words. Decency. Our humanism.
posted by mumimor at 7:31 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
Before going to work, I was looking on the webs for an English translation of Le parti pris des choses. I didn't find one, and the I really had to go. Instead, I found a single poem from the collection (sorry, it's a bit long, I would have chosen a shorter one if I could):
Snails
BY FRANCIS PONGE
TRANSLATED BY JOSHUA COREY AND JEAN-LUC GARNEAU
Unlike the ashes that make their home with hot coals, snails prefer moist earth. Go on: they advance while gluing themselves to it with their entire bodies. They carry it, they eat it, they shit it. They go through it, it goes through them. It’s the best kind of interpenetration, as between tones, one passive and one active. The passive bathes and nourishes the active, which overturns the other while it eats.
(There is more to be said about snails. First of all their immaculate clamminess. Their sangfroid. Their stretchiness.)
One can scarcely conceive of a snail outside its shell and unmoving. The moment it rests it sinks down deep into itself. In fact, its modesty obliges it to move as soon as it has shown its nakedness and revealed its vulnerable shape. The moment it’s exposed, it moves on.
During periods of dryness they withdraw into ditches where it seems their bodies are enough to maintain their dampness. No doubt their neighbors there are toads and frogs and other ectothermic animals. But when they come out again they don’t move as quickly. You have to admire their willingness to go into the ditch, given how hard it is for them to come out again.
Note also that though snails like moist soil, they have no affection for places that are too wet such as marshes or ponds. Most assuredly they prefer firm earth, as long as it’s fertile and damp.
They are fond as well of moisture-rich vegetables and green leafy plants. They know how to feed on them leaving only the veins, cutting free the most tender leaves. They are hell on salads.
What are these beings from the depths of the ditches? Though snails love many of their trenches’ qualities they have every intention of leaving. They are in their element but they are also wanderers. And when they emerge into the daylight onto firm ground their shells will preserve their vagabond’s hauteur.
It must be a pain to have to haul that trailer around with them everywhere, but they never complain and in the end they are happy about it. How valuable, after all, to be able to go home any time, no matter where you may find yourself, eluding all intruders. It must be worth it.
They are a little vain about this convenient ability: “Look at me, a vulnerable and sensitive being, who is nevertheless protected from unwanted guests, and so always in possession of happiness and peace of mind!” It’s not surprising the snail holds his head so high.
“At the same time I am glued to the earth, always touching it, always progressing, though slowly, and always capable of pulling loose from the soil into myself. Après moi le déluge, I don’t care, the slightest kick may roll me anywhere. I can always get up again onto my single foot and reglue myself to the dirt where fate has planted me, and that’s my pantry: the earth, the most common of foods.”
Joy to the snail! But they leave their proud slime on everything they touch. A silvery trail follows them. And maybe this points the way for the beaks of birds that love to eat them. Ay, there’s the rub: “To be or not to be, that is the question!” Such vanity! But that’s the danger they face.
Alone? Yes, the snail is quite alone. He has few friends. But he needs no friends to be happy. He sticks to Nature, he enjoys his perfect nearness, he is the friend of the soil which he kisses with his whole body. And he befriends the leaves, and the heavens toward which he proudly stretches his head, with eyes sensitive enough to signify nobility, slowness, wisdom, pride, vanity, fire.
No, he is nothing like the pig. He lacks those pitiful little scurrying anxious feet. That needful flight from shame. The stoic snail is tougher than that. He is more methodical, more proud, and without a doubt less gluttonous than any pig — pigs after all are capricious, leaving behind one bit of food to chase after something else. That panicky, hurried gluttony, that fear of missing out on something — that’s not for the snail.
Nothing could be more beautiful than that deliberate and discreet advance. What it must cost them to glide so perfectly along the earth they honor with their presence! Each is like a ship trailing its silver wake. They proceed with a majesty that is all the more complete when you consider again the vulnerability of those highly sensitive eyeballs.
Is the anger of snails perceptible? What examples can be found? As it makes no other gestures, the snail’s passion can probably only be discovered by a more profuse and rapid effusion of slime. The slime of pride. So one can see the expression of their rage is identical with that of their egotism. So they rule the world in their rich and silvery fashion.
The expression of their anger, like that of their pride, shines as it dries. But it also makes the trail that reveals them to predators. What’s more, this trail is ephemeral and lasts only until the next rain.
That’s how it is with everyone who speaks in an entirely subjective way, in verses and lines only, without taking care to build their phrases into a solid dwelling with more than two dimensions. Something more durable than themselves.
But undoubtedly they don’t feel this need. They are heroes, that is to say beings whose existence alone is a work of art — not artists who merely make masterpieces.
Here I touch on one of the main points of their lesson, something they have in common with all shelled beings: that shell, part of their essence, is at the same time a work of art, a monument. It lasts longer than they do.
That is the example that snails offer us: saints who make masterpieces of their lives, works of art of their own perfection. They secrete form. Nothing outside themselves, their necessity, or their needs is their work. Nothing is out of proportion with their physical being. Nothing that is unnecessary or obligatory.
And so they delineate the duties of humanity: great thoughts come from the heart. Live a better life and make better verses. Morality and rhetoric combine in the ambition and desire of the wise.
How are they saints? Precisely by obedience to their nature. So: know yourself. And accept yourself for what you are. In agreement with your vices. In proportion with your measure.
What is most appropriate to the human being? Words. Decency. Our humanism.
posted by mumimor at 7:31 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
A tongue muscle, if I was to hazard a guess.This has got to be the most boring "I pulled a tongue muscle on Valentine's Day" story ever.
posted by Tehhund at 7:35 AM on February 15, 2022 [3 favorites]
Am I just weird for...not loving or being into most poetry?
I, too, dislike it
posted by thelonius at 7:35 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
I, too, dislike it
posted by thelonius at 7:35 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
So even though my county is giving up on the mask mandate, they are "strongly recommending" that masks stay on until cases are "< 7 per 100,000." I looked at what we have to day and it's 97.5 per 100,000. THE FUCK.
posted by jenfullmoon at 8:10 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by jenfullmoon at 8:10 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
this is an invitation to submit original works of poetry inspired by, and/or about, jenfullmoon
jenfullmoon
jenfull
moonjen
fullmoon
fulljen
jenmoon
moonfull moon full moon full
posted by mumimor at 8:22 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
jenfullmoon
jenfull
moonjen
fullmoon
fulljen
jenmoon
moonfull moon full moon full
posted by mumimor at 8:22 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
I recently went to dinner with a bunch of people including my mom's ex-partner. When my spouse mentioned that her mother has just got a publishing contract for a book of poetry, they went on a 10 minute long, angry diatribe about why all poetry is stupid and useless. I've never been so tempted to punch someone. (I don't know why my mom continues to give a shit about them. They're awful.)
As a poetry reader, I think it's fine to hate poetry. But, there are also different kinds of poetry. I'm always tempted by the very silly ones, 'cause I don't actually take anything seriously. But, we all hate things. To be fair, I struggle to avoid rolling my eyes at every poetry-jam style event. I don't think it's because I'm racist in that particular dimension; just bored by all non-ironic, sincere expressions of emotion except in Broadway shows.
posted by eotvos at 8:24 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
As a poetry reader, I think it's fine to hate poetry. But, there are also different kinds of poetry. I'm always tempted by the very silly ones, 'cause I don't actually take anything seriously. But, we all hate things. To be fair, I struggle to avoid rolling my eyes at every poetry-jam style event. I don't think it's because I'm racist in that particular dimension; just bored by all non-ironic, sincere expressions of emotion except in Broadway shows.
posted by eotvos at 8:24 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
for someone who goes long spells without a thought for poetry, when I think about it I do so with intensity
eotvos, I'm in the same boat you describe.. or I think so anyway.. but I'd wade--nay, swim--through 25 metres of pure shitty poetry if there was a good one waiting for me. I really don't know what it means to hate poetry.
edit to add: if this was monthly, or somewhat regular, I would love that.. I've been enjoying folks' contributions and the sharing of works we all like/love, it's like a very special anthology curated by people I don't know at all but trust in some way
posted by elkevelvet at 8:29 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
eotvos, I'm in the same boat you describe.. or I think so anyway.. but I'd wade--nay, swim--through 25 metres of pure shitty poetry if there was a good one waiting for me. I really don't know what it means to hate poetry.
edit to add: if this was monthly, or somewhat regular, I would love that.. I've been enjoying folks' contributions and the sharing of works we all like/love, it's like a very special anthology curated by people I don't know at all but trust in some way
posted by elkevelvet at 8:29 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
LOLOLOLOLOL, love this and I'm very flattered.
I'm reminded of the time I used to be in a writer's group and I wrote a poem. The group declared that it wasn't poetry. I tried writing it out as prose and they said it wasn't prose either. It was dubbed "proetry." I pretty much gave up :P
posted by jenfullmoon at 8:39 AM on February 15, 2022 [6 favorites]
I'm reminded of the time I used to be in a writer's group and I wrote a poem. The group declared that it wasn't poetry. I tried writing it out as prose and they said it wasn't prose either. It was dubbed "proetry." I pretty much gave up :P
posted by jenfullmoon at 8:39 AM on February 15, 2022 [6 favorites]
so there is a hell for people as described by eotvos.. imagine, responding to a friend's announcement about getting one's poetry published, with a denunciation of poetry? yet in that hell the slimy excrement of all its denizens surely falls upon the upraised faces of people who tell you your poetry does not qualify as poetry
posted by elkevelvet at 8:44 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by elkevelvet at 8:44 AM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
moonfull moon full moon full
Negative Ghost Rider, the moon is full.
posted by Greg_Ace at 9:05 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
Negative Ghost Rider, the moon is full.
posted by Greg_Ace at 9:05 AM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
so much depends
upon
jen full
moon
sharing pro
etry
beside the full
moon
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
upon
jen full
moon
sharing pro
etry
beside the full
moon
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
Hahahaha, I have no idea where that proetry ended up by now.
posted by jenfullmoon at 9:29 AM on February 15, 2022
posted by jenfullmoon at 9:29 AM on February 15, 2022
The poetry exchange reminds me that back in 2013ish, when I hadn't yet gotten a MeFi account but was spending a lot of time lurking, I "wrote" a series of poems that I called "acktos," partly based on MeFi comments.
"Ackto" came from "Ack!" (the first one started with something from this comment, in a post about the comic strip Cathy) + cento (a type of poetry created by combining bits from other existing works of poetry).
The standard for what counted was always kind of loose, since I didn't know what I wanted to do with them or why I was spending so much time on them, and most were pretty stupid, but the concept that evolved was eventually:
1) Acktos are four lines long. Each line is a fragment or sentence taken out of its original online context.
2) Each line may be any length you want,
3) though ideally, all four lines are about the same length.
4) Lines need not be exact quotes,
5) but any alterations should be minor (to fix subject-verb disagreements or verb tenses, add conjunctions, or things like that; punctuation can be modified freely, even when it changes the meaning).
6) Ideally, lines should be taken from MeFi comments (though I didn't restrict myself to only MeFi).
7) The first three lines set up a punchline or reversal in the final line.
I wrote something like 160, then changed computers and didn't bring the relevant documents over to the new computer, so the only acktos I have as examples are the ones that I liked well enough to copy somewhere else. When I could locate the original source, I've linked it at the beginning of the line.
#101
• I identify all too well with the longing
• to be housed in a modified humanoid containment cell equipped with ventilation
• and a small group of similarly talented friends.
• A lot of my issues in life would be more cleanly resolved had I just asked for what I wanted directly.
#102
• She was brought up in a Christian household, with a family who loved her;
• her attitude was that of a person who is surrounded by like-minded individuals.
• She’s kind and loyal and emotionally vulnerable and unfailingly well-intentioned.
• The last few times I've called her all she's wanted to talk about is her high score on Angry Birds. This is vastly preferable to our usual conversations.
#105
• There are fairly well-understood rules to how people perceive one another;
• looking like yourself is an integral part of being yourself.
• What really terrifies me is discovering that what other people find ridiculous about me is different than what I think is ridiculous about me.
• How long before they weaponize that?
#107
• She asks, in altogether too reasonable a tone of voice,
• whether the world is ending or not.
• I suspect this is a question of degree and not kind.
• She was sitting in her living room with her cat. There was a long pause.
#118
• It's like if your parents had a TV show:
• a strange wish-fulfillment fantasy for the morbidly depressed,
• where we all get offended that someone else is offended
• until the autumn leaves start gathering on the windshield.
#124
• The oceans are turning red, and the zombies are crawling the streets.
• I drive people to doctor appointments and for grocery shopping.
• You give up on dodging them all and keep driving. Crunch. Squish. Try to think about something else.
• And then – you can’t make this stuff up – someone drives past going the other way in a Ferrari Enzo.
138
• These robots could not "think" creatively like human beings, but that did not matter.
• They were raised and indoctrinated to be living weapons and nothing more,
• then adopted by the country music singer who was tasked with their destruction.
• A transcendent humanity of their own comes out of it.
147
• I am a survivor of ritualistic abuse and was forced to marry Satan when I was a child, but
• there are few things that frighten me so much as masses of drunk white bros who feel invincible and have no fear of the law.
• And those young men create problems for everybody.
• The truth about demons is best found elsewhere maybe.
posted by Spathe Cadet at 9:45 AM on February 15, 2022 [14 favorites]
"Ackto" came from "Ack!" (the first one started with something from this comment, in a post about the comic strip Cathy) + cento (a type of poetry created by combining bits from other existing works of poetry).
The standard for what counted was always kind of loose, since I didn't know what I wanted to do with them or why I was spending so much time on them, and most were pretty stupid, but the concept that evolved was eventually:
1) Acktos are four lines long. Each line is a fragment or sentence taken out of its original online context.
2) Each line may be any length you want,
3) though ideally, all four lines are about the same length.
4) Lines need not be exact quotes,
5) but any alterations should be minor (to fix subject-verb disagreements or verb tenses, add conjunctions, or things like that; punctuation can be modified freely, even when it changes the meaning).
6) Ideally, lines should be taken from MeFi comments (though I didn't restrict myself to only MeFi).
7) The first three lines set up a punchline or reversal in the final line.
I wrote something like 160, then changed computers and didn't bring the relevant documents over to the new computer, so the only acktos I have as examples are the ones that I liked well enough to copy somewhere else. When I could locate the original source, I've linked it at the beginning of the line.
#101
• I identify all too well with the longing
• to be housed in a modified humanoid containment cell equipped with ventilation
• and a small group of similarly talented friends.
• A lot of my issues in life would be more cleanly resolved had I just asked for what I wanted directly.
#102
• She was brought up in a Christian household, with a family who loved her;
• her attitude was that of a person who is surrounded by like-minded individuals.
• She’s kind and loyal and emotionally vulnerable and unfailingly well-intentioned.
• The last few times I've called her all she's wanted to talk about is her high score on Angry Birds. This is vastly preferable to our usual conversations.
#105
• There are fairly well-understood rules to how people perceive one another;
• looking like yourself is an integral part of being yourself.
• What really terrifies me is discovering that what other people find ridiculous about me is different than what I think is ridiculous about me.
• How long before they weaponize that?
#107
• She asks, in altogether too reasonable a tone of voice,
• whether the world is ending or not.
• I suspect this is a question of degree and not kind.
• She was sitting in her living room with her cat. There was a long pause.
#118
• It's like if your parents had a TV show:
• a strange wish-fulfillment fantasy for the morbidly depressed,
• where we all get offended that someone else is offended
• until the autumn leaves start gathering on the windshield.
#124
• The oceans are turning red, and the zombies are crawling the streets.
• I drive people to doctor appointments and for grocery shopping.
• You give up on dodging them all and keep driving. Crunch. Squish. Try to think about something else.
• And then – you can’t make this stuff up – someone drives past going the other way in a Ferrari Enzo.
138
• These robots could not "think" creatively like human beings, but that did not matter.
• They were raised and indoctrinated to be living weapons and nothing more,
• then adopted by the country music singer who was tasked with their destruction.
• A transcendent humanity of their own comes out of it.
147
• I am a survivor of ritualistic abuse and was forced to marry Satan when I was a child, but
• there are few things that frighten me so much as masses of drunk white bros who feel invincible and have no fear of the law.
• And those young men create problems for everybody.
• The truth about demons is best found elsewhere maybe.
posted by Spathe Cadet at 9:45 AM on February 15, 2022 [14 favorites]
Well, this isn't about Jenfullmoon as such - but I dedicate it to her anyway, since it is about theater and I suspect she will get it on a molecular level. This is by Yeats, and I cracked up when I first read it; Yeats founded the Abbey Theater and wrote a few experimental plays for them, and I have a feeling I know exactly what kind of rehearsal one of those plays had been having when he wrote this.
I kept a copy of this poem in my stage manager's notebook, and if it looked like any actor was having an especially rough day, I'd wait until we were on a break, wave them over, and show it to them; invariably when they got to a certain point, they'd laugh too, then finish, sigh, nod their thanks, and walk away feeling a little better.
--
THE FASCINATION OF WHAT'S DIFFICULT
The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
I kept a copy of this poem in my stage manager's notebook, and if it looked like any actor was having an especially rough day, I'd wait until we were on a break, wave them over, and show it to them; invariably when they got to a certain point, they'd laugh too, then finish, sigh, nod their thanks, and walk away feeling a little better.
--
THE FASCINATION OF WHAT'S DIFFICULT
The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 10:21 AM on February 15, 2022 [4 favorites]
I don't do poetry, it's just another thing that would drive me crazy once I got started. Like I don't 80x24 write posts in justified square texts, or I don't follow the "about regrets" with "about regrets I've had a few but then again too few to mention" and continue. It just sneaks trough sometimes.
posted by zengargoyle at 11:35 AM on February 15, 2022
posted by zengargoyle at 11:35 AM on February 15, 2022
Fascinating! Thank you :) I cracked up at the first few lines of that.
posted by jenfullmoon at 11:35 AM on February 15, 2022
posted by jenfullmoon at 11:35 AM on February 15, 2022
A friend saw the rooms
Of Keats and Shelley
At the lake, and saw ‘they were just
Boys’ rooms’ and was moved
By that. And indeed a poet’s room
Is a boy’s room
And I suppose that women know it.
Perhaps the unbeautiful banker
Is exciting to a woman, a man
Not a boy gasping
For breath over a girl’s body.
--George Oppen
posted by thivaia at 12:10 PM on February 15, 2022
Of Keats and Shelley
At the lake, and saw ‘they were just
Boys’ rooms’ and was moved
By that. And indeed a poet’s room
Is a boy’s room
And I suppose that women know it.
Perhaps the unbeautiful banker
Is exciting to a woman, a man
Not a boy gasping
For breath over a girl’s body.
--George Oppen
posted by thivaia at 12:10 PM on February 15, 2022
Casabianca
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound–
The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.
--Felicia Hemans
Casabianca
Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite "The boy stood on
the burning deck." Love's the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love's the burning boy.
--Elizabeth Bishop
posted by Halloween Jack at 2:10 PM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound–
The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.
--Felicia Hemans
Casabianca
Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite "The boy stood on
the burning deck." Love's the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love's the burning boy.
--Elizabeth Bishop
posted by Halloween Jack at 2:10 PM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
The boy stood on the burning deck
His pockets full of crackers
One slipped down his trouser-leg
And blew off both his knackers.
posted by dg at 2:56 PM on February 15, 2022 [3 favorites]
His pockets full of crackers
One slipped down his trouser-leg
And blew off both his knackers.
posted by dg at 2:56 PM on February 15, 2022 [3 favorites]
Someone on Metafilter
said we need a variant
that kills 33 percent of us
so they'll take it seriously
posted by mecran01 at 3:28 PM on February 15, 2022
said we need a variant
that kills 33 percent of us
so they'll take it seriously
posted by mecran01 at 3:28 PM on February 15, 2022
New Year
When the last fork clinks,
And the Christmas Tree warms us
From the fireplace, when the stars burn
In the piteously bitter night,
When the stream presses blackly
Under the ice, and the wind insinuates
That the sun is the weaker one,
And the silence whispers, skitters
Over the frozen meadow, then it is January.
Long blue shadows reach helter skelter
Over sparkle snow, and I go out into
The new year walking, to take stock
Of the old year layered in my memory,
Evoked by the stillness of January.
I look for evidence of me.
I was here and the ice was like this.
We were here and we saw an ermine.
I was here and the feathers were of a
Pheasant, taken by a bobcat.
We were here and you were grieving.
I was here and I was grieving.
I was here and I was joyous at the
Blue that aches in January,
When the tree shadows run out long,
And rush to meet the sky,
Where the little chicadees decorate
The empty trees, and I am grateful
For the rising light, my quiet steps which
Barely punctuate the silence.
posted by Oyéah at 4:14 PM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
When the last fork clinks,
And the Christmas Tree warms us
From the fireplace, when the stars burn
In the piteously bitter night,
When the stream presses blackly
Under the ice, and the wind insinuates
That the sun is the weaker one,
And the silence whispers, skitters
Over the frozen meadow, then it is January.
Long blue shadows reach helter skelter
Over sparkle snow, and I go out into
The new year walking, to take stock
Of the old year layered in my memory,
Evoked by the stillness of January.
I look for evidence of me.
I was here and the ice was like this.
We were here and we saw an ermine.
I was here and the feathers were of a
Pheasant, taken by a bobcat.
We were here and you were grieving.
I was here and I was grieving.
I was here and I was joyous at the
Blue that aches in January,
When the tree shadows run out long,
And rush to meet the sky,
Where the little chicadees decorate
The empty trees, and I am grateful
For the rising light, my quiet steps which
Barely punctuate the silence.
posted by Oyéah at 4:14 PM on February 15, 2022 [1 favorite]
And hey, I got the wordle in the second line, too.
posted by Oyéah at 4:24 PM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
posted by Oyéah at 4:24 PM on February 15, 2022 [2 favorites]
Yesterday, there was bit of spring in the air. You know, that smell that comes as the earth thaws and things begin to grow out of it and the sun warms the whole thing.
Now, huge sheets of sleet are moving almost horizontally past my window. I feel cold just looking at it.
The dog is fine with staying indoors. It's only February, there is no reason to hope for more right now.
posted by mumimor at 4:55 AM on February 16, 2022 [3 favorites]
Now, huge sheets of sleet are moving almost horizontally past my window. I feel cold just looking at it.
The dog is fine with staying indoors. It's only February, there is no reason to hope for more right now.
posted by mumimor at 4:55 AM on February 16, 2022 [3 favorites]
Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree,
Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes –
Some have got broken – and carrying them up to the attic.
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,
And the children got ready for school. There are enough
Left-overs to do, warmed-up, for the rest of the week –
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot,
Stayed up so late, attempted – quite unsuccessfully –
To love all of our relatives, and in general
Grossly overestimated our powers. Once again
As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away,
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant,
The promising child who cannot keep His word for long.
The Christmas Feast is already a fading memory,
And already the mind begins to be vaguely aware
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now
Be very far off. But, for the time being, here we all are,
Back in the moderate Aristotelian city
Of darning and the Eight-Fifteen, where Euclid's geometry
And Newton's mechanics would account for our experience,
And the kitchen table exists because I scrub it.
It seems to have shrunk during the holidays. The streets
Are much narrower than we remembered; we had forgotten
The office was as depressing as this. To those who have seen
The Child, however dimly, however incredulously,
The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all.
For the innocent children who whispered so excitedly
Outside the locked door where they knew the presents to be
Grew up when it opened. Now, recollecting that moment
We can repress the joy, but the guilt remains conscious;
Remembering the stable where for once in our lives
Everything became a You and nothing was an It.
-- W.H. Auden, from For the Time Being
posted by Quasirandom at 7:48 AM on February 16, 2022 [4 favorites]
Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes –
Some have got broken – and carrying them up to the attic.
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,
And the children got ready for school. There are enough
Left-overs to do, warmed-up, for the rest of the week –
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot,
Stayed up so late, attempted – quite unsuccessfully –
To love all of our relatives, and in general
Grossly overestimated our powers. Once again
As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away,
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant,
The promising child who cannot keep His word for long.
The Christmas Feast is already a fading memory,
And already the mind begins to be vaguely aware
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now
Be very far off. But, for the time being, here we all are,
Back in the moderate Aristotelian city
Of darning and the Eight-Fifteen, where Euclid's geometry
And Newton's mechanics would account for our experience,
And the kitchen table exists because I scrub it.
It seems to have shrunk during the holidays. The streets
Are much narrower than we remembered; we had forgotten
The office was as depressing as this. To those who have seen
The Child, however dimly, however incredulously,
The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all.
For the innocent children who whispered so excitedly
Outside the locked door where they knew the presents to be
Grew up when it opened. Now, recollecting that moment
We can repress the joy, but the guilt remains conscious;
Remembering the stable where for once in our lives
Everything became a You and nothing was an It.
-- W.H. Auden, from For the Time Being
posted by Quasirandom at 7:48 AM on February 16, 2022 [4 favorites]
jenfullmoon
jenfull
moonjen
fullmoon
fulljen
jenmoon
moonfull moon full moon full
posted by mumimor at 11:22 AM on February 15 [4 favorites +] [!]
Now I want someone to sing this like Jingle Rock Bell. Please?
posted by vers at 8:30 AM on February 16, 2022 [4 favorites]
jenfull
moonjen
fullmoon
fulljen
jenmoon
moonfull moon full moon full
posted by mumimor at 11:22 AM on February 15 [4 favorites +] [!]
Now I want someone to sing this like Jingle Rock Bell. Please?
posted by vers at 8:30 AM on February 16, 2022 [4 favorites]
The boy stood on the burning Earth
pretending that he handn't seen.
The pending doom glowed like a hearth
eager to destroy all that'd been.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
as born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic bood,
stupid as the day he was born.
The flames rolled on - he would not quit
burning ancient oil.
From common sense, or basic science
He would of course recoil.
He called aloud - 'say, invisible hand
have my stocks yet vested?''
He knew not that modernity
would not outlive this son.
'Speak, economy' he cried
'should I change my ways?'
And but the endless droughts replied,
and the fast flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt regret
and in his waving hair.
The world was heading fast towards death
and all should feel despair.
He shouted once more on twitter,
'my planet, must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through air and clouds,
the wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the planet in splended heat
They caught civilization on high,
And didn't care about the child,
Whose resources had run dry.
There came the burst of thunder sound-
an unlikely hurricane.
Blame the winds and storms and ground
It's not your fault, your blame.
With confidence and friends who're fair
"Who on Earth could see?"
Ask the Earth, "who could have known?"
As islands were covered by sea.
. . . damnit, I didn't realize this poem was so damned long. I give up.
And I may have broken the no-politics rule, which may or may not apply to free threads.
posted by eotvos at 11:08 AM on February 16, 2022 [1 favorite]
pretending that he handn't seen.
The pending doom glowed like a hearth
eager to destroy all that'd been.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
as born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic bood,
stupid as the day he was born.
The flames rolled on - he would not quit
burning ancient oil.
From common sense, or basic science
He would of course recoil.
He called aloud - 'say, invisible hand
have my stocks yet vested?''
He knew not that modernity
would not outlive this son.
'Speak, economy' he cried
'should I change my ways?'
And but the endless droughts replied,
and the fast flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt regret
and in his waving hair.
The world was heading fast towards death
and all should feel despair.
He shouted once more on twitter,
'my planet, must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through air and clouds,
the wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the planet in splended heat
They caught civilization on high,
And didn't care about the child,
Whose resources had run dry.
There came the burst of thunder sound-
an unlikely hurricane.
Blame the winds and storms and ground
It's not your fault, your blame.
With confidence and friends who're fair
"Who on Earth could see?"
Ask the Earth, "who could have known?"
As islands were covered by sea.
. . . damnit, I didn't realize this poem was so damned long. I give up.
And I may have broken the no-politics rule, which may or may not apply to free threads.
posted by eotvos at 11:08 AM on February 16, 2022 [1 favorite]
Roses are red
Violets are blue
But I don't care
Do you?
posted by Pouteria at 5:32 AM on February 17, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are blue
But I don't care
Do you?
posted by Pouteria at 5:32 AM on February 17, 2022 [3 favorites]
I tasted a Bud Light Next 0 carb beer today. I would describe its taste as a beer flavored seltzer. Inoffensive but uninteresting. It costs as much as proper beers like Sierra Nevada, so I was not tempted (not my style anyway.) Still, beer with no carbs is an impressive bit of food engineering.
posted by Bee'sWing at 2:10 PM on February 17, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Bee'sWing at 2:10 PM on February 17, 2022 [1 favorite]
Roses are red
Candles are lit
Do no harm
But take no shit
posted by vers at 3:05 PM on February 17, 2022 [7 favorites]
Candles are lit
Do no harm
But take no shit
posted by vers at 3:05 PM on February 17, 2022 [7 favorites]
I had a work class today, which was refreshing since I didn't actually have to do much work today except before and after. I also finished a crochet project during the class, started another one, and later updated all my craft pics. Huzzah!
posted by jenfullmoon at 6:14 PM on February 17, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by jenfullmoon at 6:14 PM on February 17, 2022 [1 favorite]
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
Twit!
- Spike Milligan.
[Milligan saw active service in WW2 and emerged from the war with shellshock that haunted him all his life. He had good reason to be sceptical about poetic notions of heroism.]
posted by Paul Slade at 5:59 AM on February 20, 2022 [4 favorites]
Whence all but he had fled;
Twit!
- Spike Milligan.
[Milligan saw active service in WW2 and emerged from the war with shellshock that haunted him all his life. He had good reason to be sceptical about poetic notions of heroism.]
posted by Paul Slade at 5:59 AM on February 20, 2022 [4 favorites]
That roses are red poem, but updated for Covid
Roses are red
violets are blue-ish
I can't taste the sugar
and I'm feeling flu-ish
*sorry*
Also, here is a real actual weather report headline I just read: Millions of Americans will be forced into an involuntary polar plunge this week .
Involuntary. Polar. Plunge.
posted by taz at 6:47 AM on February 20, 2022 [4 favorites]
Roses are red
violets are blue-ish
I can't taste the sugar
and I'm feeling flu-ish
*sorry*
Also, here is a real actual weather report headline I just read: Millions of Americans will be forced into an involuntary polar plunge this week .
Involuntary. Polar. Plunge.
posted by taz at 6:47 AM on February 20, 2022 [4 favorites]
Aww, it's supposed to be 60° today and tomorrow and the kids are finally playing outside... and then it's going to be below freezing again.
posted by Tehhund at 7:08 AM on February 20, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Tehhund at 7:08 AM on February 20, 2022 [1 favorite]
I am staying with my brother-in-law for a few days as his wife is out of town and there’s lots of snow going on in this part of Sweden and lots of traffic chaos which makes me happy I am inside and warm. I did go home earlier today to spend a couple of hours with my granddaughter, lots of snow and then hot chocolate afterward. It was fun.
posted by Bella Donna at 7:19 AM on February 21, 2022 [3 favorites]
posted by Bella Donna at 7:19 AM on February 21, 2022 [3 favorites]
Violets are blue
Roses are red
I have now posted
Another Free Thread
posted by cortex at 9:36 AM on February 21, 2022 [2 favorites]
Roses are red
I have now posted
Another Free Thread
posted by cortex at 9:36 AM on February 21, 2022 [2 favorites]
« Older Unhinged Victorian Greeting Cards: Valentine's Day... | Setting a good example for the plebes, I see Newer »
This thread has been archived and is closed to new comments
posted by cortex at 8:37 AM on February 14, 2022 [1 favorite]