6/30/2020

If You Should Go


If You Should Go

by Countee Cullen


Love, leave me like the light,
The gently passing day;
We would not know, but for the night,
When it has slipped away.

Slipping away in late nig... | Quotes & Writings by Aakash Singh ...

So many hopes have fled,
Have left me but the name
Of what they were. When love is dead,
Go thou, beloved, the same.

Perfume Project NW: SUMMER IS SLIPPING AWAY

Go quietly; a dream
When done, should leave no trace
That it has lived, except a gleam
Across the dreamer’s face.

Last night my past died, silently slipping away / This morning, I ...


[This poem is in the public domain ]



“If You Should Go” originally appeared in the June 1922 issue of The Crisis.




Countee Cullen was born Countee LeRoy Porter on May 30, 1903, likely in Louisville, Kentucky. He is the author of On These I Stand: An Anthology of the Best Poems of Countee Cullen (Harper & Bros., 1947), The Black Christ and Other Poems (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1929), and Copper Sun (Harper & Bros., 1927). A teacher in New York City for twelve years, he died on January 9, 1946.


6/19/2020

Evening


Evening

by Ranier Maria Rilke


A fiery sunset among trees that are... - NewsCenter1 Media Group ...

The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;

and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion of what becomes
a star each night, and rises;

and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternately stone in you and star.


Translated by Stephen Mitchell

5/03/2020

When My Soul Findeth Wings


Let me introduce another lovely poem, written a century ago by Libbie C Baer, which again moves me very much. I read it in poems.org (a website run by the Academy of American poets)

Libbie C. Baer was born in Ohio on 18 November 1849. She was the author of In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). She passed away on 27 February 1929.

When My Soul Findeth Wings



Like roses the bright dream did pass, 
On swift, noiseless footsteps away;
Like glistening dew on the grass,
Dissolving beneath the sun’s ray.

Like voice of the lark that doth soar,
Through the golden haze of the dawn;
You hear it and bend to adore,
Just hear it and then it is gone. 


The lark on his swift, flashing wings,
Keeps pace with the flowers in their flight;
And that’s why when soaring he sings,
And passes so swiftly from sight.

I slept, and a vision did see,
Of eyes that were tender and blue;
I awoke to know that for me
The vision may never come true.


The lark soars no more in the skies,
He’s gone with the roses and dew;
The face with the soft tender eyes,
Comes never to gladden my view.

My memory holds images fair,
Of all these beautiful things;
Which I will be seeking somewhere,
When my soul, as lark, findeth wings.



This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on May 3, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets

4/06/2020

In April


Let me introduce a lovely poem, written some 95 years ago by Ranier Maria Rilke, which moves me very much. I read it in poems.org (a website run by the Academy of American poets)



Rainer Maria Rilke was born in Prague on December 4, 1875. The author of several collections of poetry and prose, Rilke is recognized by many as a master of verse. He died on December 29, 1926.


In April 



Again the woods are odorous, the lark
Lifts on upsoaring wings the heaven gray
That hung above the tree-tops, veiled and dark,
Where branches bare disclosed the empty day.


After long rainy afternoons an hour
Comes with its shafts of golden light and flings
Them at the windows in a radiant shower,
And rain drops beat the panes like timorous wings.


Then all is still. The stones are crooned to sleep
By the soft sound of rain that slowly dies;
And cradled in the branches, hidden deep
In each bright bud, a slumbering silence lies.



I just love the beauty of 'In April'.




'In April' appeared in 'Poems' (T.A. Wright, 1918), translated by Jessie Lemont

3/31/2020

Tolong berdiam-diam


Abang sayangku, abang sayangku
Look at that woman dress in PPE
With 'Menteri' label on dress too
Diam lah, manja voice-kau 2 geli



tiru nada Doraemon & dikuti dengan gelak manja?
πŸ˜²πŸ˜’πŸ˜‚

Oi, one and all, look I am spraying
4 your safety, I am dressed in PPE
To disinfect virus, monstrous being
Podah menteri, itu my mango tree


😠😠😠

Bersandiwara, kerbau, tua chong
'Ni menteri2 hanya mau publicity
Sampai memanggil Si Doraemon
Langsung ta' ikhlas, no sincerity


dei tangachi podah

πŸ‘ŽπŸ‘ŽπŸ‘Ž

Minum air suam bagus sgt sekali
Lagi menteri kerbau cakap ayam
Ini bolih buat Covid bunuh sendiri
Tapi yang best, tolong berdiamx2


πŸ˜›πŸ˜œπŸ˜


3/23/2020

Blessed Rain


We've been told the rain in Spain
In that tragic Covid ridden Iberia
Usually'd fall mainly on the plain
But what of our tropical Malaysia?



The rain goes dom dam dom dam
Beating rat-tat-tat on my zinc roof
Nature's musical singing telegram
Our friendly hujan, not at all aloof


Saying to me As-salāmu ʿalaykum
As I smell it sweet moist freshness

Sitting on the veranda of my home
Magically feeling tranquil calmness


Soon the rain will leave me alone
In idyllic and stoic contemplation
Meditating on my Nirvanic throne
& cherishing 
Nature's benediction



3/03/2020

The Frogs of Malaysia




The eternal bane of our country are frogs
'Tis the season for them, hopping all over
Stinking like malodorous dirty worn socks
Yes, they're very much attracted to power


Frogs I refer to aren't nature's amphibians
Just offspring of scums in grotty cesspool
They love nefarious acts pre-post elections
Yes, drawn to filthy lucre & loot they drool


Some are amazingly agile in their hopping
They lompat kiri kanan, whoa, back to kiri
Their inner GPS' directing them to offering
Lucrative, in a game of 'Gimme', 'Gimme'


Their hides are thick as African rhinoceros
And faces masked with hypocrisy and lies
Preaching righteousness in voices sonorous
While converging on pungli like eager flies



Note: 'pungli' is Indonesian abbreviation for 'pungutan liar' or 'illegal levies' (bribes)


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