We shall not cease from exploration // And the end of all our exploring // Will be to arrive where we started // And know the place for the first time.
– T. S. Eliot
Tag: poem
I keep trying to feel who I was,
and cannot.
Jack Gilbert, from “Summer at Blue Creek, North Carolina,” Collected Poems (Knopf, 2012)
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot
e.e.cummings
*
you are tired,
(i think)
of the always puzzle of living and doing;
and so am i.
come with me, then,
and we’ll leave it far and far away–
(only you and i, understand)
you have played,
(i think)
and broke the toys you were fondest of,
and are a little tired now;
tired of things that break, and–
just tired.
so am i.
but i come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
and knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart–
open to me!
for i will show you the places nobody knows,
and, if you like,
the perfect places of sleep.
ah, come with me!
i’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
that floats forever and a day;
i’ll sing you the jacinth song
of the probable stars;
i will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
until i find the only flower,
which shall keep (i think) your little heart
while the moon comes out of the sea.
(via loverofbeauty)
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.
Rumi, The book of love: poems of ecstasy and longing
You have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land.
Warsan Shire, Home (via dark-splendor)
Come with all your shame, come with your swollen heart, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.
Warsan Shire (via exoticwild)
secretive dreams 