"‘Do you know what a poem is Esther?’
‘No what?’ I would say.
‘A piece of dust.’
Then just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, ‘So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you’re curing. They’re dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.
And of course Buddy wouldn’t have an answer to that, because what I said was true. People were made of nothing so much of dust, and I couldn’t see doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick and couldn’t sleep.
"
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19 Dec 12 at 12 am
This is one of my favourite poems by William Blake. If you just take the time and let the words linger, for a second or two and really understand what he’s trying to express behind all the beautiful metaphores, you will love it. I promise.
If you have a hard time with it, use this link. It will explain every word.
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
"
"Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it."
"I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time."
"All the voices have hushed to a whisper now.
The sounds have slept.
I rest here in the cocoon of my heart,
Waiting for its’ deliverance.
They made you think your pain was small.
Small to Him…
Because it was small to them.
Your pain is not small to Him.
Your insignificance is in front of Him—but not to Him.
You are insignificant before Him.
But you are not insignificant to Him.
My deliverance will come.
He never left any of them in this state.
Not Musa, Muhammad, umm Musa, Maryam,
Ayoub, Yunus, Yusuf, Yaqoob, Ibrahim,
Ismael, Hajar, Aasiya, Nuh.
All were delivered.
My deliverance will come.
This pain is not small to Him.
The pain of one woman was not small to Him.
The emptiness of one woman who had put her child in the river,
was not small to Him.
The pleads of one woman who was being tortured,
was not small to Him.
The complaint of one woman to the Prophet (pbuh),
was not small to Him.
The broken heart of one woman who had lost her son,
was not small to Him.
The desperation of one woman, who bore the pain alone under a tree,
was not small to Him.
His deliverance always came.
He never left any of them in this state."
"She wrote
A hunger that was beating inside her chest
A voice that demanded to be still
So she wrote about a journey or a quest
About a passion lingering and beautifying
As that of nightingales song
Remarkable and profound words
Spilling on the empty paper sheets
All these words came together as a work of art
A master piece she would call it
From a far of course
For if you decided to analyze the ink that was spilled out
Make no mistake your heart would come to tremble
Behind each sentences lied agonies and anxieties
Behind the written symbols were messages of a lonely heart, a torn soul
But now look a far and try not to question the beauty of it
It’s more pleasant from afar. Keep it always on distance."
"Study me as much as you like, you will never know me, for I differ a hundred ways from what you see me to be. Put yourself behind my eyes, and see me as I see myself, for I have chosen to dwell in a place you cannot see."
It’s pleasant
and satifying
knowing
all these people are just a temporarily blessing
they’ll never stay
You will be left where you started
alone.
(Source: poeticallibra)
"Play on words, so I play:
I am not what I want you to think I am
And all those people are not what they claim to be
We’re all illusions of wishful thinking
Only I know me
And only you know you
Alone we think we’re different
Because I see what you want me to see
And I let you see what I want you to see
But deep inside I know who I am
I know my dreams, my thoughts, my desires
So they all do
And they all keep it to them selves
Once together they show the smiles that hold together their cracked insides
The laughters and the beauty that conceals all their ugliness
But I know
And so do you now."
