Yahweh my Shepherd : March 2014

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

A poem to Remedy the illness.

Cynthia Cruz

Just a breath, the white palace of your death
In the smallest of beds in Cairo.

I ate a single boiled egg
In seven days 

To mourn
The memory of you. 

Of soldiers,
There are always too many. 

In olive costume, their pretty
Black boots

Click inside the locked white dream
Of my sleep.


 - This poem is tender and sweet, yet passive and grey. It plays on short phrase and words to describe bigger events. Poems like these are very interesting if you are trying to hide a bigger picture or description. Cynthia Cruz is one of my Favorite Poets. 

Saturday, March 1, 2014

A Poem by Frost

A Dream Pang

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song 
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway; 
And to the forest edge you came one day 
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long, 
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say, 
‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray— 
He must seek me would he undo the wrong. 

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all 
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call 
And tell you that I saw does still abide. 
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, 
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.