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“I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask,
Mother, what was war?”
―
Mother, what was war?”
―
“The touch of
your fingers
grazing mine
delicate as
a single drop of wine
in a crystal goblet.
Rolling it round,
I savor it on my tongue,
try to
make it last
forever.
The words
I
love
you
form
in the air
and melt.
Your palm
against
my cheek,
light as
a snowflake.”
―
your fingers
grazing mine
delicate as
a single drop of wine
in a crystal goblet.
Rolling it round,
I savor it on my tongue,
try to
make it last
forever.
The words
I
love
you
form
in the air
and melt.
Your palm
against
my cheek,
light as
a snowflake.”
―
“Two People
She reads the paper,
while he turns on TV;
she likes the mountains,
he craves the sea.
He'd rather drive,
she'll take the plane;
he waits for sunshine;
she walks in the rain.
He gulps down cold drinks,
she sips at hot;
he asks, "Why go?"
She asks, "Why not?"
In just about everything
they disagree,
but they love on another
and they both love me.”
―
She reads the paper,
while he turns on TV;
she likes the mountains,
he craves the sea.
He'd rather drive,
she'll take the plane;
he waits for sunshine;
she walks in the rain.
He gulps down cold drinks,
she sips at hot;
he asks, "Why go?"
She asks, "Why not?"
In just about everything
they disagree,
but they love on another
and they both love me.”
―
“Don't be polite.
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.
You do not need a knife or fork or spoon.
For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.”
― How to Eat a Poem
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.
You do not need a knife or fork or spoon.
For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.”
― How to Eat a Poem
