tortoisegirl: (Shield)
This one's getting posted because I have a paper due on it tomorrow. Behold, Donne's erection jokes. I briefly worked on the theory that this poem was written for a man but it didn't pan out, so alas, no slash in my paper.


A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING
John Donne

AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
tortoisegirl: (Frusciante)
I've been neglecting National Poetry Month. I'm actually pretty lousy with poetry, both reading and writing and understanding it, but poetry and I have our moments. Maybe I like this one because I'm not even sure if it counts as a poem. It's part of a play; Savage/Love by Sam Shepard and Joseph Chaikin, which is made up of a series of poems that are performed by an actor on stage. It surprised me that I liked it, both as a play and as poetry.

So have some love(ish) poetry, complete with stage directions.


Beggar

Could you give me a small part of yourself
I’m only asking for the tiniest part
Just enough to get me from here to there

Could you give me something
Anything at all
I’ll accept whatever it is

Could you just put your hand on my head
Could you brush against my arm
Could you just come near enough
So I could feel though you might be able to hold me

Could you touch me with your voice
Blow your breath in my direction

Is it all right if I look straight into your face

Could I just walk behind you for a little while
Would you let me follow you at a distance

If I had anything of value I’d gladly give it to you
If there’s anything of me you want just take it

But don’t think I’m this way with everybody
I almost never come to this
In fact it’s usually the other way around

There’s lots of people
Who would love to even have a conversation with me
Who even ask me if they can walk behind me

So don’t get any ideas that I’m completely alone
Because I’m not

In fact you’re the one who looks like you could use a little company

Where do you get off thinking you have anything to give me anyway

I have everything I need
And what I don’t have I know where to get it
Any time I want

In the middle of the night
In the middle of the afternoon
Five o’clock in the morning

In fact I’m just wasting my time right now
Just talking to you

Hums
A capella, melody line only
no words


“I’m in the mood for love”

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tortoisegirl

April 2011

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