I read the question
hanging in the air
thousands of miles
thousands of years
between us
what answer to give
as if there is only one
to soothe a heart
if a heart can be given rest
in a world in constant motion
there aren’t always answers
that one would like
to hear
or that one
can honestly say
Author: zdunno03
“Art has no purpose, except the transformation of human experience.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“Art has no purpose, except the transformation of human experience.”
Milton Glaser, designer
against the rocks
turned my head
oh so briefly
but long enough
to lose sight
of you staring
at the Pacific
rolling in
against the rocks
more from Yunus Emre
Yunus is my name, I’m out of my mind.
Love serves as my guide to the very end.
All alone, toward the majestic Friend
I walk kissing the ground—and I arrive.
translated by Talat S. Halman
from an untitled poem by Yunus Emre
Yunus, leave such fears behind,
Drive all care out of your mind.
Love is what one must first find:
One’s a mystic from then on.
translated by Talat S. Halman
untitled poem by Nazım Hikmet
All the things I’ve written about us are untrue
they’re not what happened between us but what I wanted to see happen
those were my longings hanging from your unreachable branches
and my thirst pulled out of the well of my dreams
they were pictures I drew on beams of light.
Not all of what I wrote about us is true
Your beauty
that is to say a fruit basket or a picnic in the meadow
my being without you
that is my being the last streetlamp at the last corner of the city
the way I’m jealous of you
which means my running blindfolded among trains at night
my happiness
so to say the sun-drenched river which breaks its banks and overflows.
Whatever I’ve written about us is all lies
whatever I’ve written about us is all true.
translated by Talat S. Halman
new beginnings
hesitant heart
leaving
but
light feet
walking toward
a new day
At A Window by Carl Sandburg
Give me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!
But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day end,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.
In Memory: “I mean to express the quality of a memory, in order to say something about this life we live, so much of which is fugitive, so much of which is lost in the living of it.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“I mean to express the quality of a memory, in order to say something about this life we live, so much of which is fugitive, so much of which is lost in the living of it.”
― Robert Bausch, 1945-2018, writer, from “As Far As The Eye Can See”
this old man
the hour late
the glass half empty
the cat asleep
under covers
on the bed
and this old man
gazes out
to the overgrown garden
in the dark
his mind five thousand miles
away
Leonard Durso 