you shall above all things be glad and young

ee cummings

you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you're young,whatever life you wear

it will become you; and if you are glad
whatever's living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love


whose any mystery makes every man's
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time


that you should ever think,may god forbid
and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies, the foetal grave
called progress, and negation's dead undoom.


I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

the gradual fading

my feelings for you is like the withering petals of a flower.
the gradual fading of its beauty as it dries,
falling one by one... loosing its familiar scent .

josephine

The ONE Person

by JOSEPHiNE

what if you meet the one person you couldn't live without?
the one person you'll offer your life and sacrifice everything...
the one person reason enough to make you smile.
the one person that gives you enough courage to face the world no matter how difficult life may seems.
the one person who will love you just for being what you are.
the one person that wouldn't hurt you because the mere thought of hurting you is enough to break his own heart...
the one person that when you look into his eyes and see all the wishes in your heart and all the dreams you've ever had comes true.

somewhere i have never travelled

ee cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what is is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

untitled

some random words that happened to pass thru my mind. i can't say that they are poems... it's just that sometimes when words suddenly filled up my brain, i write it down. so i don't have any titles for them. these three i wrote way back in my high-school and college days.

♥♥♥

loving you is knowing you.
everytime i saw you, i want to hold you...
but yet i can't.
you seems not to notice...
walked pass through me.
you didn't even care to look...
to see what's inside me.
but i'm not losing hope
that someday you'll be mine...
holding you, saying I LOVE YOU !
♥♥♥being with you makes me feel i'm in a safe place...
a place that you create only for me.
everything is perfect... no hurt, no pain, no sorrow.
T.Ttell me a way on how can i forget you...
i am asking because maybe you know.
if i rely on myself it will take me forever to find one...

Sonnet XVII

Pablo Neruda

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.



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