Artistic Poetry -Mizdi

From: Mizdi

Silence breaks the heart

She said, I love you.

He said, Nothing.


(As if there were just one
of each word and the one

who used it, used it up).


In the history of language
the first obscenity was silence.

The Primer
by Christina Davis

Pablo Neruda poema de amor

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,
risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

E.E. Cummings But... I Carry Your Heart

From Mizdi

Variations on the Word Love by Margaret Atwood

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.

Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.

By: Margaret Atwood

Cityscape by Brandt Campbell

By Brandt Campbell



Via 500 Pix

Love by Gwylyn Cane

love

by Gwylyn Cane

there should be one hundred words for love

just as the peoples who have lived in snow so long

have so many words for snow. love

can be cold. difficult to walk on. slushy. mushy.

it will trick you. betray.

it can fall so silently on you that it mystifies ---

soon everything is quiet

a blanket under which even the cold streets of your city

are warmed. clean. it can also sting.

invariably, it melts. often, then, it smells.

and each particle is different and you know no two

are the same, so never fear, lovely people, love comes

again.